Dispatch 004: UP FROM THE ASH

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I sat along the shore of a small lake nestled within the mountains of an arid desert, hours, if not days from the nearest dirt road. The stars above, seen as they were meant to be, before they were drowned out by our own light. The wind howled. Echoes from the peaks that sent an invisible force felt from all directions. Though within I expected nor wanted for anything.<br>The leaves whispered. Not from movement of the air but from the presence of another. A narrow sound. An essence, pure, that sought no harm, but gazed, to understand. She remained opaque, hidden in the darkness of the night. She stepped closer. Her breath graced me. A moment in an eternity.<br>The desire to see broke the dark. The headlamp went on. But a doe. I looked into her eyes, and she simply nodded, then walked past where I sat. She was not in a hurry, nor frightened. Where she was to lie that evening was elsewhere.<br>I awoke to the light cresting over the eastern mountains. I boiled water for coffee to sit with the life around. The notes from the beans brought forth from the slow fire. Simple yet steeped in complexity. I packed my bag, made my way to the trail, and headed further into the unknown.<br>I walked amongst the tall dust colored grass, as the land had not seen rain over many sunrises. Pines were sparse, never thick enough to provide shade from the sun overhead. The heat emanated from an open blue sky. Endless and untamed.<br>Around the curve of the mountainside smoke billowed. A mass in which only the sky above was visible. Thick, dense, the color of a sunset with an aroma that chokes the breath of life. Iron forged from within the wildfire.<br>I could do nothing but watch a life form move, destroying everything in its wake. But does the fallen ash not enrich the soil underneath, which brings forth richer life? Of course. Today the path is blocked. I turn around to retrace my steps down to the river below.<br>Nothing unknown as the path was already taken. Though I walk from the reflection, to which all that was in view was now behind me, and all that was behind me was now in view. The curve of the ridge that ascended to the north now descends to the south. The perception of life changed when what was unseen could now be seen. I continued down the trail, down the path to the water, to the river that carved the canyon, to the truth.<br>At the bottom, a lone building sat amongst the trees, peaks, and sky. A building made from the wood around blending into the environment as if it was part of creation. I entered, sat at the bar, and ordered a beer. A few men were around. Their hands rough. Their eyes longed. Their voices never heard.<br>The door opened. An older gentleman with a frame not built to work the forest, though he commanded the attention of all. He ordered a beer, and I caught a glimpse of his waist. A six-shooter sat on it. His belt was lined with bullets all around. He pulled out a paper and a pouch. Rolled his own cigarette, then took a step back outside to smoke while the foam from his beer settled.<br>The barkeep told me he lived up in the mountains. Took at least an hour for him to get down from camp. He comes to pick up his mail, to hear the latest, and to pick up supplies. He came back in, sat down with his beer in silence as the presence of those around healed his soul. The same could be said for all the men there.<br>I sat with them and looked at the fields from the window, finishing my beer. I asked the barkeep how the winters were and if he lived here year-round. He said he did, though the last winter he was unable to leave. Had to eat elk every day. Not a single root vegetable lasted the long cold. He yearned for anything but the iron-rich meat. He was a Marine, a convict, a man. The peace of the remote mountains was weighed down by the barren landscape.<br>With my glass empty I paid the tab, and made my way to a hot spring a couple of miles up the way. A small wooden structure, with smaller cabins that held a bed and a wooden stove. A remnant of the old west.<br>I stripped the clothes from my body and entered the hot, mineral-rich waters. Earth entered my pores, seeped into my tired frame, and I drifted off into the warmth. The gentleness of life surrounded by the brutality of the world as steam softens my beard that was hardened by the smoke.<br>I opened my eyes to view the peak in front of me with a meadow below as a herd of elk exited the forest. A few bulls amongst the numerous cows grazed the grass. Then the majestic lead bull at the end, behind his herd. A rack as impressive as the family he oversees. The years on display. Imperfections seen in the perfection. Tales of battles fought. Scars of protection. Together they remain. He moves them across my view as the sun sets again on the day.<br>A moonless night overhead as the Milky Way displays shades of purple, whites of illuminations, and the shape of the cosmos. Down here on a single rock, circling a single star, I look up to wonder what...