“A civilization which destroys what little remains of the wild, the spare, the original, is cutting itself off from its origins and betraying the principle of civilization itself. If industrial man continues to multiply its numbers and expand his operation he will succeed in his apparent intention, to seal himself off from the natural and isolate himself within a synthetic prison of his own making.” - Edward Abbey

When I was younger I spent hours reading Edward Abbey and of his days spent in a little cabin, watching over Arches National Monument. It was in these hours that I began my own acknowledgment of the fight for Public Lands, a love of the desert, and a general disdain for the “industrial man.” I fear that I have only gotten more stoic in my old age.

Synthetic prison. Let that really sink in. A world filled with modern (in)conveniences; the latest phone, newest car, the most modern appliances, internet shopping, same-day shipping, heat, and air all at the touch of a button, strawberries in February, social media gratification, ego-driven platforms… I really could go on and on, and don’t think the irony of this, being a blog post, is lost on me.

There’s a little trail not far from the house. It’s not well known and I’d like to keep it that way. Many of my neighbors would also appreciate me keeping my mouth shut. It’s on what I would consider the very soul of public lands, BLM land; the most underdeveloped, least traversed land, as close to pure as you can get. This is a quiet place, and mornings are the best. There’s still a bit of wild in the air as the sun makes its way over the mountains and across the mesa. A small pack of coyotes made their way across the path, still active from the night, but barely giving me the time. I suppose I’m no threat. Fall has made its way to the high desert. It’s a bit different here, there are no majestic aspens that light up the sky. There’s only ground covering in different shades of orange, red, and purple. If you don’t pay attention to the world around you it’s easy to miss, but most things are. I can see a group of turkey off in the distance, one tom to seven females. I think animals may have it figured out. The trail gets a little tricky here if you can call it a trail at all. I think at one time a human took the time to build this into the sand, but now I think it’s only alive thanks to the deer. The mornings are cool and I can smell a neighboring wood stove. Magpies call out in the distance, their “mag, mag, mag” ringing through the junipers. I’ve found a skeleton on this trail before, a rock here and there that I couldn’t live without. I’ve left an arrowhead or two, they’re not mine to take. There are times that I feel more at home on this trail than in my own home and suppose that’s the way it ought to be. This small space is just as much yours as it is mine, even if you’ve never been here.

On this public lands day, think back to your space. Maybe it’s somewhere you visit regularly or maybe you’ve only been the one time, but dream of it often. Don’t worry, it’s yours.

Let us not be a civilization that destroys the wild and embraces the synthetic. Let us all remember these sacred places, not just today, not just in the voting booth, but every day.