The redness is what I remember most--the sun overhead floating in a pink hued atmosphere and the blood-red rocks rising out of the earth everywhere. I came into the valley and the way the sunburned cliffs rose into the sky as if the earth had begun to rust. That image of decay was humbling. Monuments such as the cliffs in Utah had stood the test of time, but also were in a constant state of transformation for millions of years. My writing journey, to say the least, was nothing in comparison.

When one is humbled is when we can really begin to write meaningful prose. Most of us have an ego that will fight to be relevant at all costs. When the ego dissolves we can start to connect and get in the flow state, and good writing can manifest. The process becomes effortless and we can hardly believe it came from our own hands.

That’s what nature does to me. It connects me to something bigger than myself and begins to break down my ego, which tells me not to go for it. To play it safe and maintain what we already have. Don’t dare put us in a position where we could be humiliated. The ego fights to survive.

Nature also shows me what transformation is and what can be accomplished by it. Just look at the Grand Canyon if you don’t believe erosion/transformation can be beautiful. Which, to keep the metaphor going, writing is like this. A process in which you start with something, then over time you begin to shape and change it and until it's something to be marveled at (hopefully at least).

There is also the calming effect of nature, which has been shown again and again to reduce stress and anxiety. Taking a breath of fresh air and letting it out will refresh and rejuvenate the mind. Being stress free and calm will allow one to get into the flow state as well. Sometimes stress can be good, like a deadline, but usually it hinders the creative process. Have you ever tried to write when there’s a knot in your stomach or your significant other just broke up with you? It can be done, but at least initially won’t lead to tight interesting prose.

Another benefit of nature is the grandeur of seeing things so stunning that the mind has trouble processing them. On one hand it’s so beautiful it borders on obscene. On the other the mind can’t deal with it within any frame you’re familiar with. This grandeur allows one to dream as well as let one see themselves in a larger context, which helps further dissolve the ego.

All writing is a dream of sorts. Fiction is putting down the sum of one's experiences and imagination on the page in a coherent story. While nonfiction is putting together a story using gathered experiences and evidence. Being out in nature and experiencing our world only adds to this base, which one can draw from. It also sparks the imagination in a way nothing else can.

And ultimately dreaming is the same thing. It’s a conglomeration of feelings and experiences put together in one's mind. Writing is putting these things down on paper and hopefully showing them to the world. So when I write about looking up at a crumbling red sky, you can know I’m dreaming of looking up at a sunset in the desert, with a river beside me, and cliffs towering all around.