the Salt Flats

After almost a month outside my country, the return has been a difficult adjustment. I need time to re-evaluate priorities, with no distractions. The Salt seemed the ideal place for some perspective.

The Bonneville Salt Flats are so flat you seem to see the curvature of the planet, so barren not even the simplest of life forms survive. A place for isolation where one faces demons and personal truths head on.

I find an area to set up camp, and set forth upon the salt and rock, clearing my head with each step. I have no visitors ‘cept for the lonely crow, cawing his welcome to the unforgiving landscape. The wind blows the cobwebs from my mind.

I began cloudbursting with renewed imagination. Disconnected from the outside world.
Just me.

As the sun begins it’s inevitable descent, I build a fire and chant in sun kissed skin. Laying naked under the stars, my walkabout is revealed in the nothingness.
Surviving the night through sweat and realization. New insight.

Sleeping in the howling wind, I rise to the early orange glow of the returning sun along the horizon. Walking out of the Salt with purpose….

going forward.

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Wench, bring my ale, what say you?