I touched dirt today.
In the desert the rain evaporates quickly because of the low humidity. Water doesn’t stay in the arid sand.
As I hiked down a wash-bed I saw the swirls of different colored sands. Attracted to the swirls, I bent over and touched the wet sand. My fingers felt attracted to the sand, as if I couldn’t stop myself from touching it. I mushed it and molded it and the only shape I could make was a pyramid. I squatted there in the wash, avoiding others on the overhead trails, I found a doorway to another world. A world of natural possibilities; a world of art that nature created. I could interact with it, but did nothing to create it. This all happened on its own, has been for thousands, millions of years, all without my intervention. This day, I touched it, the reflection of the forces that happen, without my vote, without my input and without my knowledge.
I left a grouping of many little pyramids on the wash-bed. They will be there until the next rain; until an animal walks on them; until the sands dry out and blow away. They are not permanent, these little creations won’t stand he test of time, and definitely aren’t “too pretty”.
I imagine walking down this wash, not being the person who made the sand pyramids, to see the small little creations. Like a tiny Egypt for ants. This idea made me smile.