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I recently took a trip with girlfriends to the desert of Arizona. I have always been enthralled by the desert- the vast expanse of the painted blue sky and long fingers of the wise Saguaros stretching toward the hot sun. There is an ancient energy there- a primordial peace that surpasses our modern conceptions of time. I feel simultaneously dwarfed and held by the landscape. Mother nature is particularly brusque in the desert- cruel and beautifully indifferent to the daily trifles of people as we scurry around below. She will kill you from dehydration just as quickly as she will bless you with a gorgeous sunrise. This was my mission as I set out at 4:30 am (the sunrise part, not the dying of dehydration).

I embarked on a solo hike of Camelback Mountain outside of Scottsdale. The terrain was harsh, surprisingly so for the self-proclaimed avid hiker and outdoorswoman I think myself to be. I stumbled up the path, weary from the heat and clumsy on the unfamiliar ground beneath my boots. It was dusty and rugged. The temperature reached 105 by 5 am. I grew impatient and sweaty. The “trail” was less of a designated path and more an endless scramble up boulder after boulder. I felt like Sisyphus, the fabled man condemned by Zeus to push a boulder up a hill for all eternity. If you have done this hike, you know I am being only slightly dramatic with that comparison. As the sun rose to greet my sweat-covered forehead, I eagerly pushed to the summit. A familiar calm began to settle in me- one that tends to present itself when I am doing difficult physical activity. I welcomed it. I felt myself move into a place of quiet monotony as I trudged upward. I homed in on the sound of my breath, forcing my exhales slowly instead of the greedy shallow air I had been grasping. My legs felt strong, and I propelled myself forward up the ridgeline.

When I summited around 6 am, I was greeted with panoramic views of surrounding rock and a dull orange haze as I was met with a strong, stable breeze. It cooled the internal fire in my chest, and I savored this- my favorite part, this moment of pure presence at the finish of a strenuous task. A job well done. I had been humbled and unprepared for Camelback, and I laughed at myself for attempting to carry an open cup of coffee on the hike with me (I had ditched it safely at a sign about 10 minutes in). Engaging with nature is the quickest way to check one’s ego. I was glad for the reminder. I sat peacefully at the summit and drew in my sketchbook as I chatted with fellow hikers- the friendly camaraderie of a group who has also willingly engaged in such suffering. I drafted this poem from the comfort of my Colorado home, reflecting on my time touching the deep-rooted energy of this magical place. There is a notion that just maybe, there is something bigger than us and our egos out there. This unidentifiable something to help us forge along, when we feel we can no longer do it alone.

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Ozymandias

By Lauren Aldridge

Rest here, o traveler

let these open arms

embrace your weary soul.

The night has been long

and dark indeed.

One who has lost their way

looking for the sun.

Let me wake up your spirit

and quench the dried-up parch.

Allow me to pour in

as the night pours into the stars.

To call forth a memory of light

when all others seem dark.

I am the thunder, deep in the ground.

I am the lightning in the sky.

I am the frothing white of the riverbed.

I am the source.

And I will carry you

when you cannot carry yourself.