After the last post someone asked “Why are you retracing your last drives?” This is why.
On my first trip into the Utah desert, I took off my shoes and walked several miles down an unnamed wash to this spot. I sat on the ground in the shade of that tree all that day, very far away from all human sounds or smells. There were lizards scurrying around, rabbits slowly hopping, small birds searching, prong horned antelopes mating. The hot, still air smelled of juniper and sand and rock dust. With a big rock balanced above all of our heads.
Then I woke up the next morning and watched the sun paint the landscape.
The second time I went to the desert I stopped at these same two places before driving on. The extreme vistas with so many tiny details gave me a deep breath of expansiveness.
The third time I went to the desert I stopped at these same two places to re-assemble the ‘traveling me’ in a place of comfort. And breathe in the desert.
So I retrace the beginnings of the original route. It is a matter of habit. Or of superstition. Or of desire.