骆驼没有名字

On the first part of the journey I was looking at all the life.  There were plants and birds and rocks and things.  There was sand and hills and rings.  The first thing I met was a fly with a buzz and the sky with no clouds.  The heat was hot and the ground was dry but the air was full of sound.

We sat high above the sand and plodded our way into the Thar Desert atop Chewbacca and a camel with no name.  Each step jolted me into a new appreciation for walking.  I resolved never again to consider walking a less-than desirable method of transportation.  Our camels ruled the desert, they were in their element.  The only thing that seemed out of place was us.

We were in Jaisalmer.  Rather, we were outside Jaisalmer; it was our first great adventure in India.  We met it at full speed with arms thrown open in expectation.  Jessica, I, and our two desert guides found ourselves at the mercy of the earth.  Or what I once thought was the earth, but felt as though I had been transported unknowingly to Tatooine.  Chewy belonged there, the sand people belonged there, but we did not.

Our guides were exceptional.  The men and plants seemed to spring from the same seed, spawned by the desert.  Both were marked by their ability to subsist on only the barest of sustenance.  I was in awe of their thrift.

After a few hours of rocking through the sand high above the ground I forgot where we came from or where we were going; I was aware only of the incredible loneliness of the land.  We met no other travelers, only a herd of sheep.  Even the sheep seemed like they were looking for companions in their aimless wandering.  They stared at us expectantly, knowing that the sight of another living creature was special.

My mind began to drift and I found myself writing the story of our journey using only song lyrics.  I surprised myself with how many songs I found that fit perfectly into the story like they were written for that purpose.

When we reached the sand dunes we stopped for the night.  The sudden stillness was unsettling, as though the world was supposed to sway rhythmically underneath us and the constant motion was our tie to reality.  I had a hard time walking but the dunes were calling to me as clearly as if they'd spoken aloud.  I had to summit the sand ridge even if I couldn't walk the next day.

That night we slept under the stars.  The temperature was as bitterly cold as it had been ferociously hot during the day, changing only its direction and not its intensity.  I've never seen the contrast between the blackness of the sky and the brightness of the stars in quite such an extreme display.  I lay awake as long as I could and tried to etch them into my mind to recall whenever I want.  Because every once in a while you have to lie under stars and lose yourself in their charm, and forget that life on earth isn't always beautiful.

"All we are is dust in the wind"