There is a romance and intrigue in the high desert of Arizona. I remember watching westerns as a child and thinking there would be something so exhilarating about being on horseback, riding through the canyons and foothills. After owning a horse and actually doing some of that, I’m back to just watching it and admiring it from a distance. It still does, however, have an allure that is a little difficult to define.
Today I’m sitting in a little cabin with a nice porch from which to view these vistas. The vastness of everything is nearly overwhelming, along with the knowledge that these ancient mountains that lead to the nearly mystical red mountains of Sedona hold history in their layers of minerals and earth.
What is it that creates this sense of timelessness here? I don’t use crystals or paraphenalia for the purpose of meditating the course of my life, or human history. It’s not my particular method, although there is a predomination of that type of activity here. People are seekers by nature, and we take different paths to the answers we hope to ascertain.
My path parallels the voice of Jesus of Nazareth, but it doesn’t exclude what other people have travelled and learned. What I see here is eons of journeying and asking questions. The hills are alive, indeed. The psalmist wrote of the hills around Jerusalem:
I look to the hills; from whence does my help come? My help comes from the LORD who made heaven and earth.
That’s the sentiment of the seeker, knowing that God has made all things and that the mystery of it is evident in the creation itself.
So, I’ll paint by inspiration here, hopefully. I have books for enlightenment and entertainment and movies to lift my spirit into fantasy, because that’s good too. Mostly, I am content in the environment that has inspired so many, and reflects ultimately the creation that we call home.