Stepping deeper up into the canyon under cloudless blue skies, the gravelly path led past curiously shaped green succulents as tall as a man, placed at irregular intervals. The dull dazzle of cactus spines pointed in all directions. A sudden flash of light across the dark back of a skink clearing the path disappeared almost as quickly as it was detected. A mysterious and pervasive sense of something that was hard to identify breached my awareness of the austere terrain until I was stopped mid-step, taken aback by the most profuse quiet I’d ever encountered. The fact that it was out of doors made it seem all the more profound. It was if invisible soundproofing buffered the air, translating the complete soundlessness to my ears, leaving them straining for more; an insatiable hunger for silence.
My hiking companion suddenly made a cheerful comment about the uniqueness of the terrain. While using an ordinary level of sound, it filtered to my awareness as jarring and out of place. I found myself putting my index finger to my mouth and emitting what probably sounded like a hiss. I felt like the grade school librarian, but the sense of quiet was so palpable, there seemed no other reasonable response but to protect it. I do not recall any moment before or since where I craved anything more than to simply bask in the replete silence until some inner knowing was satisfied that the saturation was complete.
We typically think of desert times as difficult times; but perhaps there is more to it than merely a season to endure. Here are a few things I’ve experienced in several spiritual treks through desert places.
Desert times are times of cultivation. One of the first things associated with the desert is lack of water. We come face to face with our need for the most fundamental nutrient of all: water. The thirst experienced when there is not a ready supply leaves us unable to think of little else than how to satisfy the need. Thirst is a form of desire, and it is best cultivated when we learn what we most need.
Desert times are times of focus. When all is stripped away from what we most need, we become intimately in touch with what is essential, and what is not necessary for survival. This comes into sharp awareness against the backdrop of lesser distractions.
Desert times are times of recalibration. The newly gained focus of the desert shows us not only what we need to consider, but also what we need to let go of to be free to act. We learn what modes did not serve in the past, and look to new strategies and considerations to arrive at our goals.
Desert times are temporary. Like arriving at a crossroads, we linger only long enough to head towards our intended path, and then move in freedom towards the life we are intended to lead. We are led by our thirst to the place where we will drink and be satisfied as we take steps ever closer to the fullness of who we are.