I am writing this from the desert. Bear is cuddled up next to me and it is much colder than when I booked us this safari tent in Far West Texas. This is the first time he and I are on a overnight trip together and it is the best/worst thing. We make an “misery loves company” pair right now and I can see the comedy in it.
A is with his dad on a ski trip, a flight without his brother. After years of flying to CA together solo and with Bear, this flight without me feels weird. This is at the core of why we find ourselves out here: we needed something to take our mind off the missing.
Being in the desert that is full of nothingness and life, it is a reminder of the life/death cycle and jaw dropping beauty at every turn. Once we started driving through and the hill country turned to desert scenery, the time was filled with “That’s the most beautiful thing I have ever seen” exclamations from the back seat. “I love the desert mama, don’t you.”
"Yes, baby. I do.”
There is a great balance of simplicity and complexity in the desert; the paradox of needing less and needing the exact right thing. Lots of water, the right shoes and clothes, patience to enjoy what exists around us. This is why I like being out here, this is why he does too: the beauty and simplicity of needing what you need.
I, too, find myself in this simplicity and complexity mix; maybe that’s why the desert feels so good right now. A homecoming of a sort. With writing shifting to the forefront of life (my people and self care always first, writing is slowly becoming part of the fuel that feeds me), it’s hard not to be moved by these teachers I find myself in the company of.
This week, I opened up a “Human is what we are” email and I didn’t even get a full paragraph into reading it when this gem hit:
“Sometime less is more, ya know?”