Joshua Tree

I am not an overly religious man. At least not in the organized sense of things. I am quite spiritual, however, and feel a deep connection to the life around me. I choose to see religion as a man-made construct designed to provide articulation to humanity’s instinctive recognition that there is something bigger than ourselves. At best, organized religion provides a structure for meaningful meditation. At worst, it is dogma. But like most things, in practice it wavers somewhere between the two.

I was raised in the Methodist church, and I know a life built around the structure of Sunday services. I am glad my parents insisted on that structure for my siblings and me, and I am comfortable with my choices of personal meditation now. I see value in both ways of living.

While there are very few things I accept as absolutes - I am quite skeptical of anything that reeks of indoctrination - I do enjoy Biblical narratives constructed to give tangible meaning to universal human needs. I don’t know the Bible well. I’m not a student of religion, but there are a few stories that are favorites.

I am a romantic at heart. My idealism has waned a bit in recent years, but it hasn’t disappeared. Last December I made a winding trek from Mississippi to the Pacific Ocean. The trip lasted two weeks, and my pup Homer and I slept mostly in the back of my truck. I wandered much of the American Southwest, but what sticks with me most are the eighteen hours I spent in Joshua Tree National Park. I felt a surge of energy there, and I felt my romantic and poetic self re-emerge in ways I’d thought were lost.

The landscape is stunning. Miles and miles of stubby trees with outstretched branches dot the horizon. It is said that these trees are named after the Biblical figure Joshua, who led the Israelites after the death of Moses. It was under his leadership that Canaan was conquered and his tribes finally found a space to stop and rest; their wandering finally over. The landscape of the national park is often idealized as a living version of safe passage - the trees named after Joshua as their branches resemble outstretched arms, welcoming weary souls to a safe resting place.

The pessimist in me would counter with debates about the historicity of the Book of Joshua, the imprint of western thought on indigenous land, or the counter argument that the tree leaves are sharp and blade-like, perhaps representing tools of massacre utilized by an army. These are all fair arguments, but meaning and understanding are choices, not inevitabilities.

So I choose to engage with my memory of Joshua Tree as the meditation I most needed at the time I most needed it. The drama of the moment made the recipe one I could not ignore, and it grounded me in a way I hadn’t anticipated. Now, when I feel my rudder is loosening, I revisit images from my respite in the desert. I choose to see those branches as a signal that my wandering could end, and a new home could be established. We all have times in our lives where one direction ends and another must begin. What then, will be our Joshua Trees to guide us through?