Desert Dreams

Yesterday I went to a place from which I may never return.

I am still there. I began reading Desert Solitaire - A Season in the Wilderness, by Edward Abbey.

He writes about his time as a seasonal ranger in 1956 and 1957 for the National Park Service at Archers National Monument near the town of Moab, Utah. In the desert.

He lived alone in a trailer provided by the park service, responsible for a vast area of the desert, and was a caretaker of the park at a time when very few people were visiting national parks, so he was alone a lot. In the desert.

I long to visit the desert. Maybe make a home there. I have made many HUGE mistakes in my life that have directed me towards the miserable, tiny, unfulfilling existence I now endure. One of the biggest was not having the balls to check out the southwestern United States. I know in my heart that had I gone there as a young man I would have stayed there. My heart tells me so, and my heart does not lie to me.

Christ, man - it's fucking May and I'm still sleeping under three fucking blankets in my recliner. Because I am cold. I am always cold. No one understands that. But then no one understands a lot about me, which is why I am alone in my soul.

It's not just that for me, though. The desert landscape connects directly with my essence. When I see pictures or read about it or hear about it or see it in a movie or in the news on TV, my heart aches, as I simultaneously experience a life-saving sense of peace in every cell of my body. I have never felt that living in New England and I never will.

Abbey was an advocate of environmental issues, and a critic of public land policies. He also held anarchist political views. How's that for an interesting mix? It all makes sense to me.

In 1956 and 1957 he lived alone and loved it. Away from people, which is where I want to be. Away from every living soul. And in the desert, which is where I want to be. 

I am only 118 pages into it, but his writing has re-awakened the deep longing and sense of loss that, at my core, leaves me a lost and lonely prisoner of a "lifestyle" I despise.

I am not prepared to offer a full-throated opinion about the book yet. I need to escape to that world a little more.

And my sense about Abbey is that he was a contradictory character - in a good way. He is not the wimpy nature-lover you might imagine as the typical cliche. He had sharp angles about him, and a toughness, cynicism, and anger directed at all the right targets. He also had a deep love of nature, and an innate understanding that whatever mankind is, it is nothing compared to the natural world. I will be taking a deep dive on Edward Abbey.

I mean, when you think about it, you'd have to be a complete idiot to defend the worth of mankind - especially today.

Edward Abbey knew what he was doing.