Beyond the wall of the unreal city … there is another world waiting for you. It is the old true world of the deserts, the mountains, the forests, the islands, the shores, the open plains. Go there. Be there. Walk gently and quietly deep within it. And then — May your trails be dim, lonesome, stony, narrow, winding and only slightly uphill. May the wind bring rain for the slickrock potholes fourteen miles on the other side of yonder blue ridge. May God's dog serenade your campfire, may the rattlesnake and the screech owl amuse your reverie, may the Great Sun dazzle your eyes by day and the Great Bear watch over you by night.
You can find this passage in Abbey’s great book of lyrical essays — Beyond the Wall: Essays from the Outside
Time for me to venture out from my suburban existence and head for the hills or the coast. The constant grey & rain of the past fortnight have deterred all the birds minus the Ravens from visiting the trees in my rough garden.
A prayer for solitude's gifts, the oneness of existence, the beauty of life. Open eyes will see. The desert calls.