By Jack Steward
8/23/2016 - 6:02 PM - Camp, Death Valley National Park
An intriguing thought just entered my mind. Here I am sitting silently, watching the desert floor as the crickets chirp and the wind howls. I've been here before. I've spent time amongst the bushes that live here.
The wind manipulates their branches in a way that makes them appear to be waving, "Hello."
They're pleased to see me again.
I begin to wonder what has transpired in my absence. I reflect on the places I've been, the things I've seen, the feelings I've had - and they have remained here through it all.
I wonder what it would be like to be a bush... I'm sure it wouldn't be the worst existence in the world, however a bush always remain stagnant.
Since we last spent time together, I have felt my spirit take shape - a return to the essence of who I am. My true self.
I'm alive and in constant motion. Sure, the bushes have grown; but only a few centimeters at most.
Would I be content as a bush? I want to say no, and I believe that to be true, yet I think back to past times of complacency. I can't move backwards if I'm standing still.
I'm glad to not be a bush. I can see the goodness of the world - feel the warmth of joy and wonder, and the despair within loneliness and fear.
To feel is to be alive.
As I sit here on the desert floor, I wave to the bushes. I'm glad to see them today, but I'll be gone tomorrow.
I hope to return someday soon and when I do, I'll wave to the bushes once again.