Place changes us. Our surroundings shape us more than we often realize. I remember moving out to this red desert land from a roaring, mega-metropolitan city. I was swollen with haste, impatience constricting me like a five-o’clock traffic jam. I had an edge about me I had not understood while encumbered in city life, an edge that has been slowly eroding away like the sculpted sandstone cliffs this land is made of. I ventured westward in need of healing, a remedy that I now understand can come only from the quiet recesses of open space.  

I knew I belonged out West from an early age. My family had moved to Colorado for a much-needed respite in the Rockies, and it was these brief years that most clearly defined my young childhood. I can still feel the cool, summer night camping on the mountainside, our campsite surrounded by a chorus of howling wolves. Beneath my fear of the wild, I knew these animals meant us no harm. It was more about recognition than threat. This was their home. We were mere guests in their presence. It was moments like this, amidst the mountains, that I first realized the magic and mystery encompassing this life.  

When my mother informed me one day we would be returning east, back to Atlanta, I dug my feet into the snow and begged her not to go. Of course, I had no choice. She had made up her mind; and so had I. I would head westward once again. 

For centuries, the American West has resided in many minds as an icon for adventure, freedom, possibility, danger, even destiny. In my mind, the West represented the possibility for home, a place I had known only for a short time. I ached to leave the cramped confines of concrete and sirens for a purer way of life. I wanted to slow down, to bask in silence for a spell, to carve out a life beyond ready-made cubicle shapes and endless corporate ladders to nowhere. Open space was calling me. I wanted to see the stars at night again, to feel the crispness of mountain air, to wander from the beaten path with no destination in mind.  

In this land of canyons, mesas, seeps and seas of sage, I began to uncover the roots of my true self. In the silence of sunsets, looking out upon the veins of the earth, I started to reawaken to the magic I once experienced as a child, the magic which is slowly zapped amidst the shadows of skyscrapers, strip malls and cinderblock schools. The vistas I was beholding began holding me in a way that every child yearns for. I discovered a peace that only raw, unprocessed nature can provide.  

If it were not for the wildness that composes wilderness, I think many of us would feel lost – even crazy. Please don’t misunderstand me, as I too am a lover of creature comforts. I obsess over cleanliness more than necessary. The material world still holds its allure with the myriad new fads and latest contraptions meant to solve all my problems and provide me more time. Issues of health insurance, job security and retirement resound restlessly in my head. Yet, it is largely due to these concerns that I feel nature is so necessary for us to experience. When I am out in the wild, days from the nearest road, the only traffic up in the sky above, I drift to a new level of appreciation and understanding. The ticks of clocks fade. I find gratitude in the fire that warms me, in the simple morsels of food that nourish my body, in the small seep of water that quenches my thirst, in the soft, sandy earth that forms to my body as I lay down to dream.  

In the embrace of open space I come more alive than any amount of creature comfort can provide. I follow the tracks of coyotes and cougars through the snow, amazed that anything can survive in such extremes of heat and cold, drought and blizzard. I feel the weight of my lifeline on my back and embrace my roots: as wanderer, as nomad, as seeker of truth, as part of this great web of which I am neither higher nor lower, just one strand of many holding together this great gift known as life.  

This column is provided by World Peace Gardens, a nonprofit organization promoting oneness, inner peace and world peace. The World Peace Gatherings take place every Sunday at Green Valley Spa in St. George, Utah. The gatherings begin at 11:00 a.m. and are located at 1871 Canyon View Drive. For more information call: 435-703-0077 or log on at www.WorldPeaceGardens.org.