Living a Mary Oliver sunrise in the desert

“You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves..."

(Six o'clock a.m. on Tuesday morning... walking into the desert in Dayton, Nevada.)

'Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers."

(Even though I was still in the cold morning darkness, the hills to the west were accepting the suns rays.)


"Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again."

( I saw two geese flying across the landscape, heading north and speaking with their beautiful voices. But the mountain caught fire with sunlight and  my attention turned toward the beauty of the hills and away from the flying geese.)

"Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,"

Then the sun rose over the eastern mountains and took my breath away. It was so cold and yet, for a moment, I was overwhelmed by the warmth of the sunrise.)

"...call to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting..."

(The sun lit the landscape with its magical, morning light, as if to say, "I did this especially for you... to let you know that you are part of this world and this is your gift for wanting to see my radiant performance.")

"...over and over..."

( I stood on the cold, desert floor and waiting....listening. I waited for the sounds of birds, then the noise of humanity... the click of my camera.  But mostly, in the early minutes, before anything else... the quiet.)

( No snakes or rabbits yet. Just the beautiful light... and me standing there. )

"...announcing your place
in the family of things.”
~Mary Oliver~

I left the house before anyone was awake. Quietly walking out the back door, through the fence and into the field behind the house. It was quiet and cold. No one was outside. As if, like a movie, where you wake up to find the town's people have all disappeared, I felt alone. For me this was a good feeling.
 Walking onto a land so hostile and dry, I wondered at the ability of this place to survive the onslaught of man. It's probably not surviving very well. But, one on one, man will not win. Man will not outlast this land. The plants that survive the heat and cold of this area. , greasewood, chaparral and sagebrush, are the true survivors in this hostile world.
But on this cold, April morning, with the golden light shinning across the field,

This was were I needed to be and the desert was providing nourishment.
 I was really cold. My fingers could hardly hold the camera and heavy lens. I took one more photo...of the wild horses on the distant hills.

and one more, of my shadow trying to be one with the sagebrush.

If the desert has memories, I hope it remembers that I was there.
I returned to a warm house and friends that were awake... fixing coffee and tea.
The warmth felt good.