Desolate Beauty

I was in Phoenix last weekend with my cousin, visiting our ailing grandmother. I came in from the east, K came in from the west and we met up for one of the best weekends I have had in years. Between hospitals visits, a full day of rain and a lingering flu-like sickness for K, we managed to laugh and reminisce and come into our grown-up selves. Though gma continued to call us kids and apologize each time, we would simply smile and tell her we are always going to be "kids" in her eyes. K and I tempered gma's needs and ailments with short outings, mostly to the local Starbucks and grocer, but once on a leisurely stroll among the neighborhood. While walking K pointed out that she found the desert landscape to be "desperate", and quite unpleasant to be surrounded by. Though she has found beauty and inspiration in the cactus which thrive, there was something about the desert that seemed to drain the beauty out of everything else within it. K is an artist of the highest caliber, and her work is absolutely stunning. One of my most favorite pieces she created was in fact based on one of these prodigal cactus': a yellow background with retro-esque "bursts" of green. And by the way, this is fabric K is creating. You roll your fingers over her "landscape" and they tumble from cool and smooth to an almost prickly softness within the green. It has been years since I have seen or felt this piece, but this is what I remember. And the beauty of it can never be adequately preserved by words. This revelation that K found her inspiration's surroundings to be desperate was not entirely shocking to me. I completely understand where she is coming from. The conversation continued with me telling her how mystical Santa Fe is, though very different from Phoenix, the beauty and inspiration stems from similar landscapes. Later, she thought she may of offended me with her statements about the desert and I told her absolutely not. In fact, many people feel the same way as K does and it's not offensive at all, though it absolutely made me ponder my love for such an empty space. These are my thoughts upon further consideration, though to be honest, I still wonder WHY I keep such a strong connection to a place I have spent so little time.
The desperation on the outset is in fact an oasis for incredible, mysterious life that would never survive in the abundance of water and temperate climates. The sunsets are magnificent due to the lack of trees marring the skyline and soaking up it's rays. The mountains do not resonate greens and reds and oranges in the fall; instead they act as mirrors, reflecting the purity of the sunrises and sunsets. When it rains the ground does not remain damp. You can almost see the moisture evaporate back into the atmosphere and the cactus drink only what they need. It's a lesson in survival and primitive spirituality. The vast landscapes of our deserts are often peppered with shrubs, giving off an illusion of life that is unlike any other desert in the world. Native Americans have suffered on these lands, yet they anticipate each day by reading the signs of this mysterious landscape. They have forged their way through the unwelcoming temperatures and spines of growth and found the beauty hidden beneath the surface in the shades of turquoise and silver. The inspiration I find there is simply in the pure frankness of what it is. In many ways I find the desert indicative of my own search within me for peace and beauty. It forces me to take nothing for granted in terms of survival, which is why the apricot trees, sage brush and coyotes are completely enticing to me. The inspiration of the cactus will continue to tingle within K, and the rest of you should only hope to find your own desolate beauty that inspires as much talent as K has. Good luck.