Now I must contradict myself; for previously I stated that the desert was barren, desolate and dry. I implied that there was no life in the desert.
I was wrong about this.
Perhaps the desert is the most beautiful place on earth.
Something beautiful does grow in the desert AND yet something also dies in the desert.
We die and we grow; and in this lies the “truth paradox” of the desert experience.
That we must die to grow, that the hard, protected, self-indulgent outer kernel of our dreams must be cracked and parched by the hot sun; before the genesis of who we truly are as artists can really begin to grow.