Thin space.

I used to know someone who would talk a lot about “thin spaces,” physical locations where the separation between the physical and spiritual worlds seems slight. More often than not, I’d give her pronouncements a bit of side-eye, in no small part because she seemed to fancy herself a walking, talking “thin space,” a self-proclaimed conduit to whatever is beyond us.

That said, there’s something undeniably special to me about the desert and, in particular, the little corner of it in North Scottsdale that I found a dozen years ago or so when Chelli and I were visiting during one of our Thanksgiving Getaways. For a number of years, I spent the bulk of Thanksgiving Day walking the hallowed grounds of the McDowell Sonoran Preserve. It’s a place where I feel connected to not just nature, but to life, in a way that belies the stereotypical image of the barren desert landscape. For me, in that way, the desert has much in common with the ocean, both teeming with abundant life just beneath the surface, if only you take the time to look. The desert is a place where I feel connected to what’s deep beneath my surface, as well. My visits here have been moments of reconnection, of acknowledgement, and of — shit storm, be damned — peace. And so, while I’m here in Phoenix, I knew a solo outing to the Preserve would be on my agenda.

I still don’t know how I feel about those “thin space” claims my former friend used to make, so I’m not here to suggest some sort of woo-woo insight into a spiritual world that, at least most of the time, I’m not even entirely sure I buy into. But I’ll tell you this: there’s something about this little corner of the world in North Scottsdale that both feeds & mends my soul in a way I don’t fully understand. And I’m good with that. Really, really good.

Here, some pictures from today’s visit.