Essay - The Desert: Expressions of Openness and Silence

When considering the various ways in which written historical accounts of deserts have continued to influence its modern-day perceptions, it is imperative that one should acknowledge the role of the desert in their own life. In this way, the idea of the desert can present itself to a person as more than a geographical feature defined by an arid climate or sandy landscape. As we approach the end of this course, I have come to the conclusion that in my life, physical and philosophical deserts present themselves to me as places of openness and silence that foster true contemplation. It is only in the desert that I have the ability to gain a truer understanding of self, as I am forced to find comfort in the silence and recognize the areas of my life to which it extends. Written works by authors Alberto Búrquez, Thomas Lowe Fleischner, and Thomas Merton, expertly place in conversation the aforementioned themes of openness and silence in the desert with acts of contemplation. It is also worth noting that, while dissimilar in many ways, all three texts approach these themes using their personal experiences in the desert,

Contemplative acts, in many types of deserts, can be driven by an innate desire to transcend. In the essay Rain and Rhinoceros, Thomas Merton discusses how, to do so, individuals who have found themselves in the desert can completely enter a space of contemplation. This can be done through acts such as prayer, meditation, and confronting powerful emotions. According to Merton, when met with deep feelings of anguish, these individuals must push themselves to embrace peace and understanding. Here, contemplation is described as, “assuming the universal anguish and the inescapable condition of the mortal man,” (Merton 18). This is a daunting task, as it requires one to practice self-reflection to eventually see themselves as worthy of transformation. Merton also describes how a person who has found themselves alone in the desert, can rise to the occasion. He writes, “it is the solitary person (whether in the city or in the desert) who does mankind the inestimable favor of reminding it of its true capacity for maturity, liberty, and peace,” (Merton 22). Whether or not a person is able to do so successfully is based entirely on their ability to give completely give themselves to the openness and silence that deserts possess.

Through contemplative acts, as suggested by Thomas Merton, people are able to determine the ways in which they must alter their understanding of the desert, thus starting a journey of self-acceptance. This idea is largely echoed by Thomas Lowe Fleischner in “Encountering Openness.” To describe his personal experience in the desert. Fleischner refers to the ways in which popular perceptions of it can be altered. He also writes that the desert offers “an opening of light. Expansiveness and possibility. The ability to place one foot in front of the other and move in any direction,” (Fleischner 92). This could be further interpreted as meaning that not viewing the act of acknowledging the expansiveness of the desert can, in itself, be a form of contemplation through self-acceptance. Fleischner also argues that the desert provides us with, “a sense of possibility, of the capacity to wander and wonder in almost any direction, of our enhanced drive to explore this world. We give thanks for this moment, in this precious desert,” (Fleischner 94). Taking both Merton and Fleischner into consideration, it is possible that transcendence can be achieved through acts of contemplation for desert-dwellers. The openness and silence of the desert allow for those who dare to explore it, to also navigate it successfully.

Furthermore, deserts, as places of contemplation, encourage deep self-reflection and awareness of one’s place in the desert. The desert also inspires the ways in which a person is able to interpret their role in the environment. In his essay ”My Childhood Desert,”  Alberto Búrquez describes deserts as often being, “mystical places that transcend their biology and geology, where the doors of perception can seemingly be cleaned by contemplation,” (Búrquez 74). In his text, Burquez also argues against the popular, westernized perception of the desert being barren, and countering it with the idea that not only do deserts offer thousands of flora and fauna variations but that that they also support human spirituality. Búrquez writes, “For the mystics among us, these sanctuaries remain sacred places. For the artist, the desert remains a place of communication with the silence, the crisp transparency of the air, the play of lights, and the rugged backdrop of distant mountains,” (Búrquez 74). Letting go of outdated, limited, and westernized perceptions of physical deserts is an act of contemplation that can give way to introspection in the desert. Not unlike the ideas of “expansiveness and possibility” offered by Fleischner, Búrquez raises physical deserts as spaces for which contemplation can exist.

My understanding of physical deserts, so often defined by their arid nature and remarkable biodiversity, has transformed throughout the semester to include my experience in an emotional desert. I decided to write about this experience for my personal essay, in which I shared my sudden departure from the life I had established in Los Angeles during the pandemic as devastating wildfires raged along the West Coast. While I have yet to find myself in a physical desert, my feelings of isolation in this past year have created a desert of my own in the heart of the Pacific Northwest and inhabited only by me. I have come to accept the desert-ness as the push I need to enter another chapter of my life after graduating from college. Instead of looking at my desert as a place, I could go missing, I now consider it to be a  place where I can practice self-contemplation while the world attempts to rebuild itself during (and hopefully following) the COVID-19 pandemic. I believe that in more ways than one, the pandemic has forced me to alter the way in which I plan for my future so that I can feel grateful for my life as it is now. Because of this, I no longer mourn the life I had before the pandemic and can fully embrace the possibilities that tomorrow will bring.

Despite there being many ancient indigenous populations who call desert landscapes home, deserts are popularly referred to or associated with the word ‘barren.’ I grew up never questioning the validity of this association, even after learning of the Hopi and Zuni people of the west and the Keres Pueblo people of the east after conducting my own research on the desert landscapes featured in the television shows that my grandfather adored watching. From a young age, I developed a fear of the desert because for me, like the depths of the ocean, I categorized it as being unknown and dangerous. Until this course, I did not consider that they could be places of growth or that my personal desert could include a Japanese oak tree, Mount Rainier, and perfectly manicured shrubs. I have since developed a deep understanding of what “desert-ness” can mean in the life of a person who has entered any desert against their will and turned to acts of contemplation for comfort. 

Rather than trapping myself in my emotional desert, I have learned how to harness its powerful presence in my life and perform acts of contemplation that have encouraged much-needed reflection. This has been accomplished through written documentation of how the nature around me has undergone change over four months. Blogging about nature for my desert practicum encouraged an increasing awareness of the world around me and how my physical and emotional self felt in it. Rather than worrying about if my writing would be criticized while being workshopped in the days following its posting online, I took the time to realign my body with the emotions I so frequently dismiss as being unhelpful or incapable of inspiring productivity. Before writing, I would enter a space of contemplation by sitting in the silence with nothing but a pencil and paper in hand as my day began. Sometimes, this would be more of a meditative state: I would allow my eyes to close, my body to relax, and allow myself to breathe deeply and slowly.

Without even meaning to, I have undergone a transformation this school this year from an individual who is fearful of what they are unable to control, to one that makes change happen and finds ways to adjust to changes when it happens to them. After the completion of this course and graduating from college, I hope to continue the incorporation of contemplation into my daily life. Since beginning to write for my blog, I have also grown comfortable in the quiet life I have created for myself since leaving Los Angeles. Because of this, I have emerged from the emotional desert that claimed a year of my life. Now, I am beginning my journey into what seems to be a desert extending far into my future with endless possibilities and opportunities for transformation.

Although it would also be fair to argue that while there is no one right way to practice these acts of contemplation, transcending beyond oneself is imperative to the discovery of potential. Becoming aware of one’s place in the desert and confronting feelings of desert-ness, takes both self-awareness and the ability to grow in situations that may feel discouraging. As expansive and silent as deserts are, they give their inhabitants the unique ability to explore what the world has to offer and to transcend beyond what they entered into the desert with. While deserts may always remain places of mystery and intrigue to those who are not drawn to them or who have yet to feel comfortable in the silence and openness, it will continue to inspire some to emerge from the desert as the best version of themselves.