Sitting behind my laptop listening to the buzz of conversations around me, I stop to take stock for just a second in an otherwise full day of “important” tasks, actions, and interactions which most of us refer to as “work”.  There’s something about being in the desert (though I have seen very little of it having spent most of my time in Arizona inside this rectangular office) that creates a space and a desire in me to think deeply, raise my awareness to a heightened sense of perception, and meld spirit, mind and body in ways that I just don’t do as much when I’m in Atlanta.

I wonder if it is the vast expanses that make me feel so small yet such an essential part of creation that engender these desires to connect to a higher self. Or could it be that we as a species do not engage as we should in more meaningful internal dialogues that bring us closer to becoming our very best selves? It’s these times when I feel like I am yet a hunk of formless clay ready to be molded and shaped into something useful, beautiful, and well-purposed– the form cannot mold itself, but there could be no form without the clay. I place myself in the Hands of one that cannot produce anything but perfection…