Chayacitra

Early Spring Flower Bloom

Now that we’ve turned the corner and put the Winter Solstice behind us, I thought I’d start posting some shots of what we’ve got to look forward to. These flowers bloom every year, right on the side of the road here in Irvine. I would never have noticed them, and in fact, hadn’t noticed them in the 10+ years that I’ve lived here (even though I walk past them daily!), until recently when I started looking for interesting Macro subjects. I find it incredible that so much beauty can be found in such small things, so near one’s house, yet so far from one’s attention. Nature is truly incredible.

When we live in a world of concepts, as we do now (“good” vs. “bad”, “pretty” vs. “ugly”, and all the rest of the didactic pairs), we never meet the world itself, but instead we meet our concept, or description of the world. We meet our images, our ideas, and our beliefs about the world.

This is what the Tibetan Buddhists are attempting to point out with their discussions of “non-conceptual thought” (which I once thought was babble and utter insanity). Similarly, it’s what don Juan refers to with the concept of the “Nagual”. It is also what the Taoists call “That which cannot be named”.

But the title, the name, is not what’s important here. What is of importance, and of supreme importance to us as human beings, is that as long as we remain chained to concepts, to ideas, and to images, we will never meet the world as it actually exists. We cannot understand Reality, Truth, or God, until we are willing to give up our attachment to our “ideas” (including the idea of a separate “self”). As long as we remain chained to such concepts, we see a version of reality, translated through those beliefs and ideas, according to our conditioning and experience.

We meet the world not as the world at large, but as the world according to our ideas, constructed by previous experience. And our world, which exists in a state of perpetual motion, change, and impermanence, can never be fully experienced, or even marginally understood as long as we continue to translate it according to the past.

Thus, we feel conflict, confusion, and suffering.

Santa Anita Canyon, Angeles National Forest

You could say that Mt. Wilson and I share a love, hate relationship, which has nearly turned violent on a couple of past occasions, including my first solo attempt at the peak last January when Mt. Wilson literally tried to kill me. This weekend, however, things worked out quite well, the Gods of Mt. Wilson smiled upon me, and I managed to make my way to the top and back down without any major incidents.

I’d been planning my triumphant return to the top of Mt. Wilson for months, though for one reason or another, things kept cropping up and keeping me from reaching the peak again. It’s not that the hike itself is all that difficult, but that it requires a significant mental commitment to complete. I’ve been back to base camp (Spruce Grove campground) quite a few times since my last ascent, but the relative comfort and tranquility of the area often makes it tough to motivate myself to leave. It may seem like a poor trade-off, abandoning the secluded beauty and peacefulness of Santa Anita Canyon for an arduous 2,500 foot elevation climb up to the top, but the view up there is entirely worth it.

I wanted to get back to the peak to get a look at the devastation wrought by the recent Station Fire so I could document the damage with my camera. I had attempted to do the same thing a couple months back, just after the fire, when I hiked up to Newcomb Pass during an aborted attempt at reaching Devore Campground, but the view was obstructed and the photos turned out like shit, which is why I’ve since updated that post with shots from this weekend’s trip.

Based on Chayacitra’s Google Analytics data, I could tell that I wasn’t the only one interested in seeing the burn zone, so I figured I would take one for the team and drag my tripod along on this outing, which is something I’ve never tried before. It was entirely worth the effort (not for the shots from the top, but for those taken down in the canyon), which has convinced me that, 1. I should always take a tripod along, and 2. I need a lighter tripod.

None of my shots from the top look fantastic, and I was pretty disappointed to find such terrible lighting conditions when I got up there, but the hazy skies and constant cloud cover didn’t stop me from  having a good time anyway. And even if the pictures do suck, as I’ve said before, the Station Fire and it’s aftermath still afford us with a once in a lifetime opportunity to witness impermanence, interconnectedness, and creation/destruction on a simply massive scale. I think there’s a great lesson in this fire for each of us, which is why I’ve been so intent to get these pictures taken and posted. So without further ado, here is their story.

I got up at 6:30 on Saturday morning and cooked up one of my famous omelettes to load up on some protein before finalizing my last second packing, then hopped in the car and sped off. I remembered at the last second that I was missing the most important backpacking food ever- bread, cheese, and grapes- but thankfully my local Ralphs was already open. I don’t know what had possessed me to plan on surviving with just cliff bars and trail mix this time around, but I’m damn glad I figured things out at the last second. There’s simply nothing like a good loaf of bread, some chipotle cheese, and a bag of grapes out on the trail.

I was even fortunate enough to run into some of the best customer service I’ve ever personally experienced, when the Ralph’s deli guy went completely out of his way to stop me from taking one of “yesterday’s” loaves of bread, replacing it with one that was piping-hot and literally fresh-out-of-the-oven. As it turned out, that loaf was so good at retaining heat that even hours later, in 40 degree temperature weather out in the middle of the wilderness, I was treated to a meal of hot bread!

When I arrived at the Chantry Flat parking area, the regular early morning Parking Rodeo was in full effect, with the Ranger playing parking lot attendant. It was a big mess, with a bunch of non-English speakers trying to figure out her instructions, and doing some of the worst parking I’ve ever seen. I was glad that I had packed all my stuff up beforehand so I could get on the trail quickly.

I totally screwed the pooch though and had completely forgotten to renew my Angeles National Forest Adventure Pass, which had apparently expired in November. I thought I had at least another month left on the damn thing, but apparently my timing was way off. I wasn’t about to sit around for an hour waiting for the pack station to open so I could buy a new one though, and since the tickets are immediatley forgiven as soon as one provides proof of their valid pass purchase, I figured it didn’t matter anyway.

Dam Along the San Gabriel River - Angeles National Forest

Though the weather was perfect and I had been expecting to have to wade my way through people, I found the trail itself to be relatively empty. Like usual, I was somewhat disappointed at the lack of spectacular views on the hike out, but I think I’m just spoiled, and that it’s unfair to compare Angeles with the likes of Death Valley, the Grand Canyon, Bryce Canyon, Saguaro, Kings Canyon, and Sequoia National Park, all of which I’ve been to in the past 3 months. While those places are all far more impressive than Angeles, none of them less than an hour outside of a major metropolitan area. And while the Angeles National Forest may not provide the most amazing scenery in the country, it sure is conveniently located for those of us stuck here in Southern CA. And for that, I absolutely adore the place.

My hike seemed a bit tougher than usual, but I think it’s partially because I haven’t done any proper backpacking since I visited Saguaro in October. Or it could have been the added weight of my new, heavier backpack, and the addition of the tripod, which as I stated above, I’d never carried into Angeles before. Either way, the 3.5+ mile trip didn’t take very long at all though, and I didn’t even have to take a single rest break, but I was definitely feeling the load on my back by the time I pulled into Spruce Grove.

Now that I’ve spent so many nights there, it almost feels like coming home when I arrive at the campground, and I was delighted to once again find it completely unoccupied. Apparently I’ve got some kind of amazing luck, because the local Ranger swears that the only time the place is deserted like that is when I’m around. I guess I just know how to pick the right weekends!

After arriving I unpacked enough to get my lunch supplies out and was totally shocked to find my loaf of bread still warm enough to release a stream of steam each time I cracked a new piece off the end. It made for a great meal, and an absolute treat, considering it was already cold enough that I had to put on my thermal pants, beanie, and fleece gloves. And it was still just 10:00 am! (Though I do get cold easily).

Once I managed to get warm I set up the tent and stowed my gear, then snapped a couple pictures of the campground so you could all see just what it looks like, and perhaps get an idea of why I like it so much.

Spruce Grove Campground - Angeles National Forest

Spruce Grove is definitely one of my favorite Southern California campground, mostly because it’s usually empty, right next to the stream (allowing easy access to filtering water), and relatively warmer than the surrounding area due to the thick tree canopy. I think I’ve spent something like 20-30 nights here now and I’ll definitely keep racking them up throughout this year, though with the loss of the Northern Angeles to the Station Fire, and my desire to start taking on longer trips, I may have to start looking elsewhere. Thankfully there are plenty of other trails around, and I think my next foray may be to head out East into the San Bernadino Mountains. Perhaps another shot at San Jacinto is even in order.

For now though, Spruce Grove remains my home base, and as every other time before, it served me quite well on this trip. Someone had been kind enough to do some pretty extensive fire-wood collecting, and little fire-wood burning, so I was even able to scavenge some excellent pieces of wood from the area immediately surrounding the campsite. I then collected up the obligatory load of tree branches, pulled them to pieces, and piled up what I figured would be enough wood to last a few hours.

As always, I enjoyed the process, and for the first time even remembered to use my gloves and rain jacket to keep myself from getting scraped up and filthy. It’s amazing how long it’s taken me to develop the skill, but I’m finally getting better at efficiently breaking down tree limbs and using their stress points and weak spots to break them up. I no longer decide how long I want each piece of wood to be, but instead go with the flow of the branch itself, and allow it to snap at the points of it’s own choosing. While I may not get the “perfect pile” or “perfect length” of wood each time, it sure saves me a lot of energy. And it certainly feels much more “Zen” to do it this way.

Fire Wood - Spruce Grove Campground - Angeles National Forest

After working up a sweat preparing the evening’s fuel I laid down and listened to the sounds of the forest around me, deeply enjoying the gurgling sounds of the local stream. A half hour or later I was ready to get to it again so I collected up my camera and tripod, then headed South along the trail, looking for potential photography subjects. I’ve shot this area probably 10-15 times now, but never with a tripod before, and even with the assistance of my K10D’s “Shake Reduction” technology, I’ve never managed to hold the camera steady enough for properly exposed photos. I’ve always had to trade off between sharpness and depth of field, which isn’t quite the way I like to pursue my art. And even though I’m shooting with a wide angle lens there’s so little available light due to the thick tree cover that my exposures typically require 1/4th a second or even longer- far too long for hand-held shots.

This time around, however, I was able to capture a few images that I really like, thanks to the help of my Amvona AT-L 101T Tripod. In particular, I was quite pleased to finally snag properly exposed and sharp photos of some mossy logs that I’ve been trying to shoot for over a year, but never had any luck with! Here are a few of my favorite shots from the afternoon.

Stream near Spruce Grove - Angeles National Forest

Fallen Leaf - Angeles National Forest

Moss Covered Log - Angeles National Forest

When I got back to camp I was pleased to see the area still unoccupied, but found myself starving, so I chomped down some more bread, cheese, and grapes, then filtered another CamelPak full of water. I’m still flabbergasted at the terrible design flaws in both my Katadyn Hiker Pro Water Filter and Camelbak water bladder though- neither or which have been designed for easy use. There are no convenient hand-holds, handles, or grips of any sort, making solo water pumping far more difficult than it should have to be. It’s never a problem with another person around, but it requires way too much of a juggling act to get it done when I’m alone. Unless each company makes significant strides in their designs, I will not be purchasing anything from them ever again. And if anyone out there knows of easier to use models, please let me know, because I’ve frankly had my fill with each of these (even though they’re both relatively new).

Exacerbating my frustration with operating such poorly-designed gear, one of the denizens of the local cabins (the closest one to Spruce Grove campground) had decided to do some serious construction work at just about the same time that I had fixed on doing some serious relaxation. Unbeknownst to me, though I was later informed by the Ranger, their cabin’s side paneling had not been properly finished and they were quite worried about getting it put fully into place before the first big Winter storm. It sounded to me like they were just pounding hammers to make noise for making noise’s sake, but I guess there was some method to the madness. Either way- it was incredibly obnoxious, keeping me from being able to relax, clear my thoughts, and get any good meditation in. All I could think about was throwing a rock through their cabin’s window (which I’m glad I did not do).

I ended up having to put in my earbuds and take a quick nap- hoping that they’d give up on the hammering after about an hour or so. But of course, they did not. That would have made things too easy for me! My next attempt to escape the annoyance was to head toward a gigantic rock pillar which I’ve planned to climb since I first saw it nearly a year ago, but never actually explored. I slowly made my way to the top, then walked out toward the ledge, sitting about 100 feet up off the canyon floor, meditating for an hour or so, and again enjoying the silence of the forest. I was just far enough away that the incessant hammering sounded more like some kind of distant drum or bass playing, and I was again able to relax and enjoy myself.

As the light began to fade, I hurried back to camp and decided to start up my fire since that’s no easy task even with a headlamp (which I conveniently lost in Death Valley, and had not yet replaced). My first attempt was an abysmal failure, the result of failing to properly prepare my fuel with enough light kindling. I always end up collecting up far too many large and medium sized logs, with way too little of the tiny, easy-to-light stuff, and even after a year of constantly reminding myself to do it right the next time, I still haven’t quite been able to broke myself of the bad habit. Without enough kindling it’s terribly difficult to get a fire to any sort of self-sustainability.

My second fire starting effort turned out to be far more successful,  thanks to a much larger supply of kindling, and the assistance of Coghlan’s Emergency Tinder. That stuff was excellent, incredibly worth it’s price, and far more effective than any of the other similar products that I’ve tried in the past. In fact I’d say this is the best product on the market right now, at least that I know of, and I’ve tried everything that REI carries. The only real drawback of the Coghlan’s stuff is that it’s difficult to use in cold weather, but with a bit of cleverness and a jacket pocket, that’s a relatively simple problem to overcome. It still took me a little over an hour to build up a coal-base hot enough to get my fire to sustainability, but once I hit that point it was all smooth sailing.

Soon after the fall of total darkness the local Ranger stopped by to check in with everyone and make sure that everything was in order. I’ve met him quite a few times and I always enjoy the chance to pick his brain and ask questions about the area. He’s been watching over Sturtevant’s Camp for something like 25 years now, so there’s really no one with a better understanding of that area. I was particularly curious to get his take on the Station Fire damage, and to find out if it was possible for me to get into the burn zone.

Unfortunately, as I suspected, the Ranger said that all trails to the area are now officially closed for some sort of “Reforestation” effort, and that this would probably be the case for some time to come. On the bright side though, even though I could get a decent view of the Northern Angeles from Newcomb Pass (where I was thrown out of last time), he let me know that the Echo Rock viewpoint on top of Mt. Wilson would be a far better bet. And even though my knee and hips had been giving me trouble earlier in the day, so much so that I had abandoned my plan to hit the peak, his advice rekindled my desire to get up there. After our obligatory discussion of the weather, the Ranger was on his way and I found myself again alone with my little fire- just the way I like it.

Fire Art Attempt - Spruce Grove Campground

Another Attempt - Spruce Grove Campground

I chomped down a gigantic cookie, continued working my fire, and tried taking pictures of the flames and the fire’s evolution. I have an idea for a series of photos that I’ll attempt the next time I’m backpacking, which involves documenting the beginning, middle, and final stages of an evening’s fire- similar to what’s posted above, though I’d like to produce a sort of time-lapse sequence capturing a fire’s entire life cycle. I think it could be beautiful! I was enjoying listening to the sounds of the canyon until a very peculiar owl call began to attract my attention. The sound was like none I’d ever heard before- a piercing call ripping through the silent night- soon commanding my total attention. I had wanted to investigate the noises, but started to get cold, tired, and even downright scared.

I had been thinking about some of the concepts from the Don Juan series of books written by Carlos Castaneda, and was attempting to perform one of the energetic meditations suggested for tapping into an area’s power when I first began to hear those weird calls. I had just been trying to “expose myself to power” when the first call rang out. I immediately froze up, sat completely still, closed my eyes, and just listened to the noises. Unfortunately I did that for so long that my fire ended up burning itself out! Having used up all my pieces of light kindling, my only options were to freeze my ass off or get in bed, so I chose the latter. I had been enjoying my fire already for 3-4 hours, so it was probably time to get to bed anyway, but it certainly felt like a defeat at the time.

Listening to the calls, which I think could be more accurately described as shrieks, howls, or even screams, I had the feeling of total certainty that they were not being produced by ordinary means (ie. owls), but by some sort of beings of the night- some kind of energetic entities. I figured that the destruction wrought by the Station Fire had probably driven some of the older, bigger, and badder entities out of the deep Angeles, and into the fringes of remaining forest- where I was now lay. I didn’t want anything to do with those potential terrors at that point, so I cut out all light, sound, and movement of my own, sitting totally still and just listening to the weirdness. After an indeterminable period of time I ended up falling into a very deep sleep.

I woke up the next morning around 8:00 AM, feeling excellent, without any of the previous nights soreness in my legs, hips, and back. I was quite confident that I’d be able to handle the hike up and down Mt. Wilson, but I knew I’d need to carbo-load first. I heated up my usual evening meal, the incredible dehydrated Macaroni and Cheese from Backpacker’s Pantry, which I promptly chomped down, then set to work on packing up all of my innesential gear. I knew I would be pushing daylight to just about it’s limits if I spent any significant amount of time at the top of Mt. Wilson, and I didn’t want to have to hike out in the dark (especially since I didn’t have a head lamp), so I packed up everything I didn’t need to take with me to the summit and stored it all neatly in my tent, which due to later time-constraints turned out to be an excellent idea.

It was a quick, but relatively difficult hike up to Wilson’s summit, fraught with the usual perils of numerous avalanche chutes leading to certain death. You see, the local Ranger has reminded me twice now that these are the steepest slopes in the lower 48 states, and there have been numerous body-rescue missions in the area to prove it. I can’t claim that I’ve done much hiking or backpacking outside of the South West, but based on what I have seen, I wouldn’t be surprised to find out that these slopes really are the steepest, especially after paying so much attention to them each time I’m out there by myself. It’s never an issue when hiking with friends, but when I’m out there alone there’s a noticeably higher level of excitement due to the many opportunities for getting myself killed. Take a look at the slope in the following picture and you can get some idea of what I’m talking about.

Avalanche Chute - Mt. Wilson, Angeles National Forest

When I did reach the summit, for only my third time ever even though I’ve camped at the mountain’s base so many times now, I was rewarded with a completely unobstructed and nearly 360-degree view, allowing me to document the full damage done by the Station Fire, and giving you the opportunity to take a peak at the area without even having to leave the comfort of your own home. The following shot is my favorite of the series, with Mt. Baldy’s snow-capped peak in the top-right, the foreground showing the healthy Angeles, and the mountains to the left exhibiting the extent of the area’s devastation. For the other pics from this series, please see the following post: Aftermath of the Station Fire – Angeles National Forest.

Angeles National Forest - Station Fire Aftermath

I lingered at the fantastic Echo Rock viewpoint for about two hours, hoping that the cloud bank to the South would clear up, giving me the opportunity to capture those mountains under even lighting conditions, but alas, it never happened. Accordingly, these shots are nowhere near as nice as I was hoping they’d turn out, but I figure I’ll be making a return trip to the area relatively soon, so all is not lost. I was also quite pleased to find myself in good enough shape to bring the majority of my backpack’s weight, including both the camera and tripod (each of which are my heaviest piece of backpacking equipment on their own) the entire 2,500 feet up, without any serious problems. And just as I was packing up to make my way back down the mountain, I heard the sound of approaching humans, at which time I realized that I’d had the mountain to myself for the entire time that I was up there- just the way I like it.

Near Mt. Wilson Summit - Looking South East

The hike back down was far easier, and much faster than my way up, taking less than half the time and failing to produce any noticeable sweating or fatigue. I even had enough energy to stop short at the Half-Way sign and set up my camera to capture my only self-portrait of the trip, which I think turned out relatively well.

Self Portrait - Half Way Back Down Mt. Wilson

I arrived back at camp around 3pm and was pretty happy that I’d had the foresight to pack things up before heading for the peak, as I was now officially feeling tired and lazy. Light was already beginning to become an issue so I quickly broke down my tent, cleaned up the campsite according to my leave no trace style of backpacking, and got ready to take off. The day had been a good one, and I was only disappointed that I wouldn’t have time to stop by Sturtevant’s Camp for another conversation with the local Ranger, especially since I’d wanted to show him my photos from the peak. I’ll be keeping them on my memory card so he can get a look at them the next time I’m out there.

I made it back to my car relatively quickly, getting there just as the deep Twilight had begun to set in, which was quite a relief considering that things would have been somewhat complicated without a headlamp to rely on. I was then treated with my first twilight drive down the mountain and back into civilization, enjoying the view of the emergence of the evening’s first stars. It had been a great trip and even now I can’t wait for my next adventure. I’m full of ideas for how I want to shoot the canyon on my next trip out there and I’ll be sure to bring my new headlamp along so I can take my sweet time.

Angeles Fire Damage - Station Fire Aftermath

Station Fire Damage - Angeles National Forest

Station Fire Aftermath - Angeles National Forest

Angeles Fire Aftermath - Station Fire Damage

Angeles National Forest - Station Fire Aftermath

All shots were taken with Pentax K10D and DA* 16-50mm lens, by Tim Lavelle.

I figure these speak for themselves, but everything should look like the green forest in the foreground. I’ve honestly never seen anything like this, and the closest I could compare the area to looking would be that of post-nuclear Hiroshima or Nagasaki. There is nothing left out there. Miles and miles of forest burned to a crisp, leaving nothing but dirt and ash in it’s wake. This terrible tragedy could have been averted, had we allowed smaller forest fires to burn through the area in the past few decades, clearing up old debris and leaving room for new growth. Devastating forest fires such as this will continue as long as we keep interfering with Nature’s way.

These were shot on December 20th, 2009 from “Echo Rock” on top of Mt. Wilson. You are looking North / North-East. That’s Mt. Baldy in the right side of the frame of shot #5. It’s snow cap was deposited by a storm two weeks ago, but it’s melting quickly, and will most likely be gone in early January unless another storm rolls through. Fortunately, the San Gabriel River needed water badly, and this run-off has provided just that. Other than the area completely destroyed by the Station Fire, the rest of Angeles is alive and strong. And besides- that forest will return- eventually. It’s just that none of us will still be around to see it.

Nature works on a much longer scale than we do!

This post is the second piece in my series on “The Difference Between Concentration and Attention“.

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To take a step back, let’s start over by defining the word “concentration” using the help of Dictionary.com, which  explains that concentration means “exclusive attention to one object; close mental application”. Simple and concise, unlike my own attempts.

And now that we know what concentration means, let’s define  “attention” using one of Krishnamurti’s favorite techniques: finding what is true by negating that which is false.

With that in mind, what is not attention?

• Attention is not concentration. That should already be quite obvious.
• Attention is not limited to a single focal point, or even to a set of focal points. In fact, attention has nothing whatsoever to do with “focusing”.
• Attention is not a behavior or technique that you can practice, develop, or be taught to perform. If anything, attention involves the complete negation of any such processes, systems of learning, and accumulations of knowledge.
• Attention is not limited to a single sensory input like “seeing”, “hearing”, “feeling”, “touching”, “tasting”, or “smelling”. It is closer to the combination of all of those operating in unison, and some people (but not me) might even argue that it involves something like a “sixth sense”.

So what does that leave us with?

To me, it sounds like “making an act of complete attention” sits on the same spectrum as terms like “consciousness”, “awareness”, and “perception”, as perhaps the purest form of them all. I would suggest that you think of it as perceiving wholly, without divisions, and with all available energy; or as experiencing reality in the most accurate, objective, and intelligent possible way. You could even consider it to be a close synonym with the ever-popular concept of “enlightenment”, or what I’d rather call “being in the enlightened state”. And with that, let’s talk a little bit about the act itself.

Before we proceed, I want to make this absolutely crystal clear- what we are presently discussing (making an act of complete attention, or simply “attention”) is an action or a behavior. It is most certainly not just an idea. I am speaking from experience here. Furthermore, making the “complete act of attention” is an act that all human beings are capable of performing, whether or not they are aware of that possibility. Again, if I am capable of performing it, then I would imagine that so is everyone else.

I am not a unique and special snowflake. I’m just another person, like you, living in the crazy digital age and trying to find my place in the grand scheme of things. I have no special abilities, super powers, or any remarkable qualities, other than perhaps my intense curiosity and passion for exploration.

And I realize that for clarity’s sake I should probably write it out as “making the complete act of attention”, “the act of attending”, or “the state of total attention” but I may sometimes use just  “attention” instead, for the sake of the writing. I apologize in advance if that makes things more confusing for you, but trust me, if any subject is worth looking into, this is most certainly the one.

Now what I mean by “making an act of total attention” is the behavior of entering into a new mode of awareness- and by “new”, I really mean “new”, rather than merely “novel”. This new mode of awareness is entirely different from, and has absolutely no relation whatsoever to the way that we’re used to perceiving things. The biggest difference being that an individual perceiving with total attention feels no division within himself, no division between himself and his surroundings, and no division out there in the universe at large.

In contrast, our regular way of perceiving (which involves concentration, and is promoted and encouraged by society) is entirely relative and divisive, founded on the complete acceptance of the separation of “me” and “not me”, and “that” and “not that”. And the importance of making the complete act of attention, or of attending, as often as possible, is that continuing to live according to our normal divided perception is not only ridiculous and the living of a lie, but also selfish, destructive, and literally evil- because consciousness limited by concentration generates confusion, chaos, misery, and suffering.

To get a little preachy- I feel that it’s my responsibility as a human being (which is to say a member of society, the world, and the universe at large) to stop behaving in this way! And if you are also interested in leaving this world a better place than you found it upon arrival, then you should have the same purpose in mind, and like me you should be doing everything in your power to achieve that end. The fact that you have even read this far suggests that you are at least somewhat aware of the problem, and somewhat interested in helping promote the solution. And for that, not only do you have my eternal thanks, but my utmost respect.

And I’m not trying to brag here, because I honestly couldn’t care less what you think of me (I think that should be relatively obvious by this point if you’ve read some of my other entries), nor do I want to get into my personal life here (for reasons that are at least equally obvious to those who’ve read previous posts), but in the spirit of full disclosure, I feel obliged to admit that I have made the act of complete attention and experienced the resultant distinctly different state of awareness on many different occasions over the past few years (and with increasing frequency as of late as I’ve focused more and more on meditation as daily living).

And as such, I can assure you as I attempted to above that this is in no way a theoretical construction of Krishnamurti’s, or of my own. It has nothing whatsoever to do with him, or with me, but with us- including both humanity and the rest of the universe as one. Please do not think that we are presently acting like academicians discussing some fancy theory. This is not a discussion on theoretical states of mind, potential altered forms of consciousness, or the psychology of spirituality. This is a discussion of a behavior, the suggestion to perform that behavior, and to observe its effects. Please do not mistake this as an attempt to build out an academic explanation of mysticism, religion, or philosophy.

I wouldn’t blame you for finding it hard to believe, because I was in your shoes myself at one point, but the result of making a complete act of attention removes all divisions from consciousness and produces the feeling that we are filled up with an unlimited amount of some perceptive-like–supernatural-force that allowing us to experience reality as it actually exists- which both feels and appears far different from usual. I personally believe that it’s this very experience which mystics, philosophers, prophets (and “crazies”) have attempted to describe using terms like “enlightenment”, “awakening”, “pure understanding”, and a myriad of other related phrases.

I can say with completely honesty that when I am making a complete act of attention it feels as if I am somehow not just more aware, but actually aware of myself, my surroundings, and the relationship that binds us. And my usual illusions, like the division between “self” and “other”, or between “that” and “not that”, fade neatly away without any conscious effort on “my” part. I’ve used “my” in quotes here, because once the self is removed completely, that becomes no more than mere concept.

In fact, all conceptual thought, like psychological burdens, hopes, dreams, fears, and etc. are erased, inner conflict ceases, and I feel as if filled with an overflowing sense of joy or ecstasy unlike anything else that I’ve ever personally experienced. And to get even more personal than I already have, I’ll be the first to admit that I’ve experienced quite a few “altered states of consciousness”, yet none of them have produced anything quite like this. Simply put, it feels as if I’ve opened my eyes for the first time, entered a completely different world than I’m used to, and begun to finally live life.

In my experience, making the complete act of attention seems to equate with achieving enlightenment or reaching the state of Nirvana. And I apologize for dropping so many Buddhist references and allusions in my posts here on Chayacitra, but I’m far more familiar with Buddhism than I am with Christianity, Hinduism, Islam, Judaism, or any other organized religion, because it’s the only one I’ve studied with any seriousness. I do apologize if that makes things uncomfortable for you, but it’s really the only system that I feel comfortable discussing at all. (I also happen to think the Taoists/Buddhists do the best job of explaining the unknown, but again, my exposure to other organized religions is quite limited, so you can take that opinion with a grain of salt.)

But to get back to my point (and to take this discussion to a much deeper level of insanity) when I operate in the form of altered awareness that comes from making a complete act of attention, I don’t feel like I’m capable of speaking with God (like a prophet would describe) but that I literally am a part of God. And please don’t be confused by my use of that word “God”, because I certainly don’t mean God as in the bearded old white man who sits on his golden throne in the sky (silly Westerners).

Rather, I mean that I feel connected to some kind of universal source of knowledge, energy, or awareness, in which the boundaries between “me” and “not me” dissolve, after which “reality” itself unfolds and my connection to the universe at large becomes much more than just a concept. I attempted to describe God once in college, and gave an explanation that I still think holds at least somewhat true, or at least is as close as I can get to putting into words “that which cannot be named“: God is everything in the universe at any given time, including the relationship between each of those things to each other”. Or as one of my good friends so eloquently condensed it: God is “Delta-T”.

In that state of enhanced awareness, when I feel as if I’m part of God, I feel just as connected to the rest of the universe at large as I do to myself and my immediate surroundings. It’s quite literally as if I’ve entered a state of omnipresence, omniscience, and omnipotence- the traditional characteristics ascribed to God- which is why I feel legitimate in claiming that it feels like I have become God. And because I’m not a theist, I don’t find that blasphemous in the slightest, but I do apologize if you find it offensive (my Grandmother certainly would). In that state, the traditional boundaries and divisions like time and space lose all meaning; leaving only energy in a limitless, boundless, and entirely unstructured and unpatterned form. And to me, that is real Beauty (with a capital “B”).

It is, to be sure, a transcendental experience out of which an entirely new paradigm emerges. And that paradigm, which I would like to refer to as actual reality (or “what is” as Krishnamurti calls it) is a paradigm in which a new and radically different “order” (to borrow another of Krishnamurti’s favorite phrases) emerges. Within this new order- lacking concepts and divisions- hierarchy, authority, and even duality is entirely negated. And to me, that is real Freedom (with a capital “F”).

Now, before we proceed any further let me be absolutely clear that I do fully acknowledge the possibility that I might have simply gone completely insane. I do realize that my own odd state (and those of all the prophets, enlightened ones, and other “crazies” before me) could simply be the result of psychotic episodes, but in my defense (and theirs), I still manage to excel at work, maintain healthy relationships with other human beings, and generally carry on as well as the next guy.

I’m also not exhibiting anything that I think anyone would argue is “interference with social or occupational functioning” (to quote the DSM-IV), but I also only have a BA in Psychology. I’m not a “Professional Psychologist” and I have never been officially evaluated. And I never will be, because I would argue that it is those people currently living what is considered to be a “normal” lifestyle that are the crazy ones who need help. Why do you think most people are so heavily medicated, reliant on entertainment, interested in other people’s lives rather than their own, and so unhappy in general?

I should admit, however, that unlike the historical Jesus, Buddha, Krishnamurti himself, and other individuals like them, I am thus far incapable of remaining in this state for an extended period of time. In fact, I have not yet managed to remain in the state of heightened awareness for any longer than a few hours (at least not without chemical assistance). The typical (unassisted) experience often lasts for only a few fleeting minutes. I believe this is due to the fact that I have yet to fully overcome my own mental-cognitive trap, and I expect this cycling in and out to continue as long as I remain attached to personal history and self-importance (to borrow some Don Juan terminology).

And so, in staunch opposition to many of the statements made by people like Krishnamurti, Buddha, and others who have attempted to explain the enlightened state, it doesn’t seem to me like it’s a one time deal, or a fire-and-forget type of permanent awakening, in which that first movement into it is enough to last forever. But as I write this, I do feel quite confident that it’s likely just my tendency to cling to the “me”, to my concepts, my beliefs, my so-called “rationality”, and all the rest, which is restraining me from making that jump in a permanent way. Perhaps I’ll never be able to overcome that, and am destined to only receive what I call “glimpses” of that underlying order.

I would imagine that enlightenment, heightened awareness, or the state of total attention must conform to the same rules as everything else in the universe, specifically that each exist in an impermanent way. Thus, even though we are capable of entering that state of awareness, if we fail to follow the flow, ride along with the wavelength, or live according to the Tao, we cannot hope to remain in the enlightened state, and slip out of it back into regular awareness. I think that is precisely the motivation for Krishnamurti’s constant reminders that attending requires following along with the “career” or the “movement” of reality, of the world, and of oneself (which are all the same, as “I am the world, and the world is me“). To paraphrase his words- a static thing is dead, and therefore has no meaning.

It’s seems to make perfect sense to me, especially as I’m writing this and thinking through it, that making the complete act of attention lies in the negation of the division between “self” and “other”, since that division promotes the idea of a permanent, or stable self. Because when we make that initial division, we enter a mental state, or conceptual structure in which the stable, constant, or permanent entity (the “Me”) emerges from out of the chaos and background noise of the universe (the “Not Me”). And as long as there is that belief in stability, or essential independent existence of any sort, there can be no movement into heightened awareness, which requires the complete negation of such conceptual constructions!

I would even like to argue that this division between “me” and “not me” is not only the first, but also the only mistake that we are truly capable of making. In fact, you could even call it “Original Sin” if you were so inclined. Incredibly, I’ve never felt like I understood that term until just now, but in light of this, it seems to make perfect sense. And importantly, that first division between “I” and “not I” begets divisions of its own, because the division becomes infinitely divisible. Those divisions then gain additional weight, causing increasing divisiveness  as the thing snowballs out of control the more that we attach ourselves to the “self”, until we reach the point faced by modern society- which is the reason for having this discussion in the first place. We now, each every one of us, live in a world riddled with illusory divisions encouraging conflict, aggression, misery, and suffering.

But isn’t it amazing how we started talking about Krishnamurti, delved into Buddhism, and just emerged through the most important doctrine of Christianity itself (Original Sin)? Doesn’t it amaze you that so many supposedly radically different religious systems (each of which is supposedly the “only true religion”) are in reality so similar, and even appear to be discussing the same exact thing, but using different words and metaphors?

Does it blow your mind too that by openly discussing and comparing them- without avoiding the pitfalls of political correctness- that we can find so much common ground?

Doesn’t it make you wonder if perhaps some of these ancient cultures didn’t have a pretty good idea about what they were talking about? About themselves, their place in the world, and maybe even the universe at large?

Doesn’t it make you worry that perhaps humanity has strayed down the wrong path, gone back into what will eventually be deemed the “Second Dark Ages”, and lost all touch with some aspect of ourselves that would allow us to better understand reality like some of those ancient peoples?

And don’t you wonder if we can’t reclaim that lost aspect by opening an honest dialogue with each other (like I’m attempting to do here), and by celebrating our similarities rather than defining ourselves by them, then attempting to destroy each other through commercial, political, and literal war?

If you’re anything like me then these are the types of thoughts you find yourself pondering, this is why you’re interested in the topic at all. These are the reasons for which you “seek”, they are why you get out of bed in the morning, and why you’ve read this far into this post.

Do you think it could be our tendency to spend so much of our waking lives inside which has so dramatically reduced our ability to understand reality, to live as happy, healthy, and whole human beings, or to achieve these states of heightened awareness?

I think it’s that essential division we’re all taught from the moment we leave the hospital at birth, between the inside and outside world- the “inner” and the “outer” division which becomes the separation between “self” and “other”, “light and dark”, “good and bad”, and all the rest of the didactic pairs- that blinds us from the reality that division itself is illusory, or at best, no more than a temporary condition (as is everything else in this impermanent state of conditioned existence).

And isn’t it true that literally everything which occurs on one side of the universe, or at one point in time, affects everything on the other side and everything that will even happen from that point on? Isn’t that exactly what interconnectedness and the laws of quantum mechanics explain?

And isn’t it amazing how such a simple idea like the fact that every action has an equal and opposite reaction (think Yin and Yang) can explain so much about our universe? Doesn’t any of this make you think for just a second that perhaps we’re all making far too much of all this, and getting lost in the details?

But to get back to the current discussion, rather posing hypothetical metaphysical questions, I do not believe that making a complete act of attention or achieving the enlightened state necessarily implies that we are at once freed forever from the trappings of regular awareness, because that simply has not been the case for me. And again, I hate to sound like such a pompous self-obsessed asshole here, because that is absolutely not my intention, but what else can I go by? Perhaps I’ve simply never achieved the full-blown state of total attention that Krishnamurti describes, or the Enlightened state as the Buddhists define it, but it certainly feels like I have.

And if I’m completely honest with both of us- myself and you, my dear Reader- I can think of no better way to explain some of my experiences other than to write them off as psychotic episodes (as I myself suggested above) but either way, I would still argue that the movement out of enhanced awareness (or insanity) occurs at the point when concentration, focus, or evaluation comes back into play- shedding even more light on Krishnamurti’s oft-repeated statement that society has a tendency to perceive “Sanity taken for Insanity”.

Either way- entering the state of heightened awareness can only be achieved once all illusions (including non-relative existence, the stability or independence of the self, and all conceptual thought) have been completely, totally, and fundamentally negated.

To relate another personal anecdote (I sure am becoming fond of these, huh?), the first time I remember becoming fully and distinctly aware of having shifted into this wildly different mental state, and having the capacity to fully engage in conscious analysis of it after recognizing it as such, the first thing I did was to ask my friend: “What do you think it was like in the time before “I”"? It seemed a sensible question at the time, and continues to seem one now- to me at least.

But her reaction, which I will never forget, was at once illustrative of what I would argue is the massive and potentially unbridgeable divide between those of us who have experienced such a mental state and those of us who are literally incapable of even conceiving that it could possibly exist.

Her response made me immediately aware (using that “sixth sense” I referred to way up above) that we were no longer perceiving ourselves, our surroundings, or the relationship that binds them (let alone thinking about it all) with the same form of awareness, or with the same toolset. In a word, I wasn’t just thinking completely outside the box, there was no box (replace box with spoon for another pseudo-philosophical pop-culture reference). Yet she was still inside it, looking at me, who she had previously thought was sitting right in there with her. The rift was simply that deep.

In fact, after I’d uttered that question, it obviously hit with such force that she looked at me in what I can imagine would be pretty close to the same way that I you’re looking at your computer monitor right now- as if you had just witnessed a person go completely insane.

And to be completely honest, I didn’t blame her for it at the time, I don’t blame her for it now, and I won’t blame you either, especially after my personal disorientation and difficulty with accepting all of this after having experienced the movement in and out of it so many times in recent months. It is, in a word, fundamentally different from anything that I have ever experienced before, sometimes scary, and always unnerving (at least when moving back into the “normal” mode of perception).

In fact, it’s so different and so unlike the normal mode of perception that I sometimes even find it impossible to remember anything that occurred during the time I was “there”, or “here”, or whatever you want to call it (neither of those really fit the bill). It often feels as if I’d been simply turned off for that period of time during which my awareness was altered, and all that’s left is a black, gaping hole- otherwise known as the Void, or Sunyata (another great Sanskrit word).

And like I used to be so fond of saying about a certain favorite Psychedellic: “There was the time before mushrooms, and then there’s now.” But what I didn’t realize at the time was that my statement had very little to do with the actual mushrooms themselves, and everything to do with the vast difference between the constrained, limited, and conflicted awareness of my everyday life (that of the regular “I”), and the expansive, unlimited, and infinite awareness which I experienced while under their influence, and recently in my self-cultivated meditation-induced states of heightened awareness.

It’s the difference, the incredible difference, which is important, not the experience, or the tool used to arrive at that state, which matters. It’s in the difference, that immeasurable gulf between the two states of perception, out of which real understanding arises. Because in that difference, everything- the self, the universe, and the relationship that binds the two- is at once illuminated.

But to try and wrap this up, because I doubt any of you have even made it this far, I would argue that as long as there is an “observer separate from the observed” (Krishnamurti’s phrase), an “I” separate from the “Not I”, or any other form of separation at all between “self” and “other”, that there is no possibility for making a complete act of attention or for achieving the enlightened state.

And as long as there is such a division, there must also necessarily be conflict. And where there is conflict, there will also be suffering.

And “I” will no longer promote that, for “I” have seen that there is indeed A Wholly Different Way of Living.

== JKrishnamurti.org Daily Quote ===

There is a difference between concentration and attention. Concentration is to bring all your energy to focus on a particular point. In attention there is no point of focus. We are very familiar with one and not with the other.

When you pay attention to your body, the body becomes quiet, which has its own discipline; it is relaxed but not slack and it has the energy of harmony. When there is attention, there is no contradiction and therefore no conflict.

When you read this, pay attention to the way you are sitting, the way you are listening, how you are receiving what the letter is saying to you, how you are reacting to what is being said and why you are finding it difficult to attend.

You are not learning how to attend. If you are learning the how of attending, then it becomes a system, which is what the brain is accustomed to, and so you make attention something mechanical and repetitive, whereas attention is not mechanical or repetitive. It is the way of looking at your whole life without the centre of self-interest.

=== Thoughts ===

I find it remarkable that the comprehension of each and every daily quote seems to be so important for achieving a complete understanding of what academicians would call Krishnamurti’s “teachings”, “philosophy”, or “intellectual system”- all terms which I feel quite confident that the man himself would most certainly reject.

But a deep understanding of his use of the term “attention” (or more precisely of “making a complete act of attention”) is necessary for understanding anything else that Krishnamurti discusses, because it’s the hinge upon which everything he talks about swivels. You could even argue that making the complete act of attention is the cumulative action of the performance of real meditation.

And so, in light of its relative importance for his Philosophy, and the discussions on this Blog, I’d like to attempt to clarify the above passage with a couple of personal experiences of my own. I’ve been watching Led Zeppelin concerts on DVD all night, so let’s start by using the act of watching them as an analogy.

Let me start off by saying that each and every one of us, from the moment we are born, is trained or conditioned to develop what society calls the “skill” of concentration. Every influence on our awareness is in one way or another refining our ability to concentrate, to our own detriment. From your kindergarten teacher to Yoda (“Concentraaaaaaate!”), just about everyone you’ve ever interacted with in any way has encouraged you to to hone your concentrative powers, whether they meant to or not.

But to get back to my example, as I focused my own powers of concentration on the Led Zeppelin concerts, and especially Jimmy Page’s virtuoso guitar performances, I found myself focusing on individual facets or elements of the total picture of what I was seeing and hearing- like the way Jimmy’s fingers flowed so effortlessly over his guitar’s fretboard, the look of concentration on his face as he focused on making the right movements, or even the sight of his incredible dragon outfit that he wore during the Earl’s Court concert.

And as I concentrated on those things, I found that the rest of the band’s performance, my own reaction to it, and even the things happening in the room around me in the present time were completely shut off from my awareness. But why did these other aspects of the performance, like his band mates movements, Robert Plant’s own insane outfit, or the cat walking across my bed get blocked out? And why was I incapable of perceiving all of those things, along with Jimmy’s finger movements, at the same time?

It’s quite simple, and incredibly pertinent to the topic of attention. Simply put, the way that concentration works is by establishing a filter to screen all of our perceptions, evaluate them, and removing those that we have deemed to be “unimportant”. This filter blocks off those things which we’ve judged to hold little or no value, allowing us to narrow in on and focus additional mental energy on the particular aspects of our perception that we believe do have something to offer.

Concentration serves a distinct purpose, and makes perfect evolutionary sense by helping us to more effectively complete individual tasks, but it also poses a serious problem for our ability to understand life as a whole, causing us to “lose the forest for the trees”. And it’s become an increasingly nefarious problem with the increasing fragmentation, dissociation, and isolation being brought about by modern living in the digital age.

But to return to my example, because I was watching the Zeppelin DVD to help with my own guitar technique, my own concentrative filter had quite reasonably deemed Jimmy Page’s movements and mannerisms to be the most important aspect of the performance, leading me to focus exclusively on him- while completely irnoring the rest of what was happening on stage, inside of myself, and even in the room around me. And as my example shows, the process of concentration must be a necessarily limiting action.

The act of concentration is a behavior that prevents us from achieving complete awareness of ourselves, our environment, and that fundamentally important relationship that binds the two together. Concentration focuses our awareness on one or the other, causing us to forget that each is molded and shaped by the other in an endless dance of symbiotic evolution. And thus, when concentration is at work, there is no possibility for achieving any sort of real understanding, or for the emergence of what Krishnamurti calls the “flowering of intelligence”.

In the rest of this post I will seek to shed further light on the subtleties of this problem, which I would like to argue is the most important issue that modern human beings face.

—

Continued here: “Difference Between Concentration And Attention – Part II“

Mesquite Sand Dunes Self Portrait

Immediately after Thanksgiving dinner I wrote up one of my favorite posts yet, called “Taking an Inventory“, which you should check out before continuing through this one. I was forced to race through the post because I had to meet up with Sean in Santa Monica by a reasonable hour so we could get to Death Valley at a reasonable time the next morning. By reasonable hour and reasonable time, what I really mean is entirely unreasonable, on both counts.

After putting the finishing touches on my post and getting all my gear stowed in the trusty Civic, I finally left Irvine around 11pm. “Great”, I thought to myself, “I can hardly keep my eyes open and we’re about to drive 300 miles through the barren desert, in the middle of the night, on the worst driving day of the year. And all to reach a destination aptly named ‘Death Valley’. What the hell am I doing?”

But it was too late to turn back now. I ignored my better judgment, turned up the DJ Tiesto, and sped off to Santa Monica, where Sean’s house is conveniently located in the complete opposite direction of Death Valley, about 45 minutes entirely the wrong way. For such a long drive though (6 hours each way) the slight detour was entirely worth it. And Sean is no slouch, unlike some of our other travel companions. By the time I arrived at his house he was ready to rock and roll.

The drive out was mostly uneventful other than the occasional coyote sighting, a quick stop in Mojave (a far more depressing town than the desert bearing the same name), and the multiple times that we caught each other nodding off at the wheel. In fact, by far the most exciting moments were the getting lost parts (thanks Google maps!) and the minor annoyance that my phone couldn’t place us anywhere closer than “Within 8000 meters”, or the equivalent of 5 miles, of our actual location (nice touch Verizon!). We had to re-route no less than 5 times, but thankfully there are plenty of different ways to get to Death Valley National Park from Southern California. They even make the odd boast that they house “more roads than any other national park.”

Along the way, we each consumed an entire bag of food ending in “tos” (Cheetos & Fritos for the uninitiated), shared more than a few “I think we’re going the right way”s, and enjoyed some pretty damn impressive star gazing. Sean even tested out stealth mode on his car, driving without any lights on in the middle of nowhere- an experience I don’t necessarily want to ever repeat.

We finally saw our first “Death Valley” sign around 5:30 in the morning after entering the official Western boundary of the National Park. Some hair-raising, cliff-hugging, speed-racer style driving got us to Stovepipe Wells in a jiffy, where we found ourselves at a relatively crowded and not-so reasonably priced campground ($12), considering we only had about an hours-worth of good darkness left for sleeping.

We coasted to a stop in the parking lot between the campground and general store, resigning ourselves to sleeping in the car, which as usual, was not so much fun. We didn’t have a whole lot of options though, since we wanted to talk with the Rangers as soon as they arrived for duty at 8:00 am. Showing up at 6:00 didn’t leave us enough time to squeeze in any kind of real exploration or adventure, and we had no idea what there was to see in Death Valley anyway. We hadn’t done any research whatsoever.

Our first run-in with the Death Valley Rangers (which provided some of the most interesting experiences of the trip) was both quite profitable and highly amusing, especially because our informant seemed to be the crack-smokingest human being on the planet! Without exaggerating a bit, this man was capable of fitting something like 10 sentences into the time, space, and breath that your average human typically uses for just 1 or 2. Think of the Micromachines commercials guy and multiply him by two.

Ranger Methamphetamine gave us some great advice on how to spend our time in the Park, providing us with a couple of excellent maps for the occasion, which alone were entirely worth the $20 entrance fee. We used both maps extensively, though I think I preferred the Death Valley Backcountry Roads Map to the regular Visitor Map.  And for those of you with 4x4s, high-clearance vehicles- or more cajones than brains- you’ll definitely want to grab a copy of it.

In typical Tim & Sean form, we had planned absolutely nothing in terms of an agenda, other than the general destination and estimated time of arrival. As I learned on last month’s road-trip through Arizona and Utah [insert link here], flying by the seat of your pants is far more exciting and typically just as productive. Both of us have trouble with sticking to plans anyway, so why set ourselves up for failure – right?

To let you in on a little secret, Park Rangers really do deserve their minimum wage salaries (I kid!) because they actually know what the hell they’re talking about, unlike a lot of the people on sites like Virtual Tourist. I’ve found them to be the absolute best source of useful information on each destination I’ve seen in the past year. They’re the eyes and ears on the ground, and they know every little nook and cranny of the Parks that they protect. If I hadn’t talked to them at each of the major destinations I visited, I would have missed out on quite a few of my favorite spots

And Ranger Meth was no exception – in fact he was my favorite type of Ranger – knowledgeable, friendly, and outright hilarious. He let us know that our outlandish plan to “backpack Death Valley” was an actual possibility, due to certain rules like “You can camp anywhere as long as you’re at least 2 miles from a road”. Well – at least that’s what we thought he had said. It’s just too bad that it’s not the truth, as we would later come to find out. (And for the record, he did tell us the real rules, we simply heard what we wanted to hear).

The first stop on our shiny new, Ranger-informed agenda was to head down tourist row (South Western Death Valley) where we’d be able to see all the sites “from the post cards”. A few minutes later we were standing at Zabriskie Point which fellow Pink Floyd fans should recognize, looking out over a magnificent view. I managed to waste it by leaving my circular polarizer in the car, so these shots didn’t turn out nearly as nice as they could have, but I’m still relatively happy with them as is, and I learned a valuable lesson in the process.

Zabriskie Point, Death Valley National Park

After shooting the scenery, digging the desert vibe, and taking some Chinese teeny-bopper-style photos of ourselves jumping in the air, we were back in the car and speeding off toward the next destination. And what a destination it was. Dantes View is what they call it, and it’s absolutely incredible!

Sean accidentally came up with a much more motif-appropriate name for the place though, calling it “Devil’s View” both as an homage to The Inferno (I actually made that part up while writing this) and for theme unity with the whole “This place will kill you” meme established by “Death Valley”. Whatever it’s name the view from the top is just magnificent.

And it’s also quite famous, though I didn’t recognize it at the time. The shot below is nearly identical to a scene from the original Star Wars, when Obi Wan and Luke are looking down over Mos Eisley Spaceport from the surrounding mountains.

Dantes View, Looking North (Over Mos Eisley)

Neither of us were expecting much from Dantes View, but I’m damn glad we took the chance to visit! And if I’m being honest, I also had no idea that Death Valley was so damn big until we got up there. The perspective from Dantes (at 5,475 feet above sea level) afforded us a perspective on the scope and size of the Park, especially since most of the Valley floor lies right around sea level.

For those of you not paying attention, that’s a 5,000+ foot elevation differential. And even though the pictures don’t really do it any justice, this place is huge, and I mean absolutely massive. It’s hard to explain the sheer size, scope, and desolation that Death Valley inspires, but it delivers on all three counts in a major way.

And when it all boils down to it, Death Valley itself couldn’t have been given a better name. Not that it’s a literal valley full of death (in fact I don’t remember seeing anything dead at all), but that it contains so little life. As far as I could tell, there’s pretty much nothing but ants and shrubs out there. We heard no coyotes, saw just a couple birds, found very little sign (animal droppings), and heard absolutely no noise other than that which we created.

And I really mean that last part about the noise too. It’s not like there was “just a little bit of noise” or even “some quiet sounds”. There was no sound whatsoever! Nothing. Not an insect’s chirp, a frog’s croak, nor a coyote’s howl. All I heard was the sound of the wind-blown dust and sand, of which there was plenty (as my sleeping bag, tent, and camera gear can attest to).

After Dantes we came back West and even further South toward some of Death Valley’s really unique natural wonders. It was here that we saw some things which, to me at least, make Death Valley entirely worth visiting. This place is a must-see destination. It is absolutely out of this world. And the best time to be there is right now.

Next up on our tour was the Devil’s Golf Course, probably the weakest of the major Death Valley destinations, yet still one that really shouldn’t be skipped. It’s a gigantic Salt Pan, and one that given a perfectly appropriate name in terms of both theme-cohesion (“Devil’s”) and appropriateness of description (“Worst Golf Course Ever”). Apparently it derives from an old National Park Service guide book stating that “only the devil could play golf” on its surface. I sure as hell wouldn’t want to try.

The Devils Golf Course

The place may also be bad luck, considering that both Sean and I experienced major camera failures there. Looking back on it though, I think we were both just underwhelmed by this location- partially because Zabriskie Point and Dantes View were so incredible, and also because our cameras stopped working. We only lingered here for about 10 minutes before racing off to the infinitely more spectacular Badwater Basin, which was far more impressive and exciting. I snapped one of my favorite shots of the trip just as we arrived, catching a pretty reflection of the sky in the only pool of water I saw during the entire trip.

Badwater Basin Reflection

Arriving at Badwater Basin, also known as the point of lowest elevation in the entire United States at -282 feet below sea level (yes, that’s a negative),  I totally thought we were in for another major let down.  We were debating whether or not we should even walk out into the area, but since we had nowhere else to be, and nothing better to do, we kept exploring. Much like the rest of the Park, Badwater Basin turned out to be chock full of surprises!

We followed behind a snaking line of tourists on a well-traveled path that soon gave way to some of the most interesting scenery of the entire trip. I was just blown away by the cavalcade of increasingly intricate crystalline structures strewn about the valley floor. I got some of my favorite shots here, and would suggest that this spot is a definite must-see as part of any trip to Death Valley. Just make sure to walk out far enough into it though, otherwise you’ll be likely to leave severely disappointed.

The entire Basin is covered with a variety of salt-crystal structures, looking something like a massive natural kaleidoscope. I won’t try to describe it in words beyond that attempt, except to say that it was absolutely mind-blowing. The formations were so detailed, so delicate, and so different from anything that I’ve ever seen before that I was filled with awe, amazement, and wonder that something like this could even exist. The world truly is an incredible place, and the Badwater Basin is a perfect example of its awesomeness.

Badwater Basin - Simple Salt Formations

Badwater Basin - Structures of Increasing Complexity

Badwater Basin - Intricate Salt Crystals and Pinnacles

Badwater Basin - Mountainous Looking Formations

Badwater Basin - Salt Formation Fault Lines (Don't They Look Oceanic?)

Badwater Basin - View of the Valley (Looking North)

Badwater Basin - Alternate View (Again Looking North)

Sean remarked that “Man could never create something like this, no matter how hard he tried”, and he was dead on. The entire area was absolutely fantastic. I was so taken by the Basin that I plan on returning with my tripod for a full on photo shoot. I’d just love to see the long shadows on this terrain, and the prospect of catching a gorgeous sunrise or sunset here has got me chomping at the bit to return.

We spent quite a while at Badwater Basin, only leaving after we’d become distinctly aware of the rapidly setting sun. We had a long drive ahead of us- down past Ashford Canyon, just about 25 miles South of Badwater Basin. We had planned on hiking in “two miles from the nearest road” to set up a back-country camp for the night. We had been told about a secret parking lot down there which “someone” (the exact word used by the Ranger) had “blocked off with rocks”.

With a wry grin, he suggested that we simply “move the rocks and park in the dirt lot”. We were then supposed to hike the requisite two miles West where we could then legally camp near the base of the foothills bordering the edge of the park. We managed to find the parking lot without any trouble, but the impending darkness looked to be an entirely different issue. We started to worry a bit about just how little time we appeared to actually have before total darkness.

Fortunately, “2 miles” from the nearest road becomes a subjective measure when hiking through Death Valley in fading light, 50 miles from the nearest Ranger Station, and at least a mile from the closest human being. Accordingly, we made it to camp substantially faster than we had thought it would take us. We also managed to catch a pretty awesome sunset along the way.

Sunset Over Death Valley - Near Ashford Canyon

Home for the night turned out to be a small rise in the center of a massive wash, way out in the middle of nowhere and about 200 yards from a large patch of low-growing shrubs. I had wanted to set up camp amongst those shrubs, but Sean vetoed the idea due to irrational concerns over catching the Hantavirus. To his credit, our site provided excellent views of the entire valley floor, and we had both expected it to offer at least a modicum of protection from the wind, but that couldn’t have been farther from the truth.

Once Sean got over the Hantavirus obsession, we broke the rules to collect a little dead wood for a fire that turned out to be the smallest, yet most awesome I’ve ever had the opportunity to enjoy. We were both blown away by its ability to keep us warm, even though it was so small. It seemed to be just the right size, and even seemed like it could last all night since it took so little fuel to keep going. It’s warmth and glow kept us quite comfortable for a couple of hours, lulling us into a false sense of security.

After hours of total stillness, the desert unleashed a furious barrage of wind attacks which caught us entirely by surprise. Our previously cozy and perfectly controlled little fire transported itself from a comfortable position at my feet to a much less convenient one directly on the side of my tent. Literally. And my tent is by no means fireproof- its materials aren’t even “flame resistant”!

It was at this point that I started to feel a bit panicky, having convinced myself that I was under attack by some sort of supernatural force- like one of Don Juan’s “inorganic beings”. Thankfully, Sean had not flipped his own lid and was perfectly capable of springing into action. He quickly put out the fire with some dirt, then deftly maneuvered my tent so that it was better positioned to deal with the oncoming wind gusts.

Just as we finished moving the tent, my flashlight crapped out completely, and I was left with pitch blackness. I immediately jumped into my tent, beginning what would become a night-long vigil as I listened to something patrolling around outside, patiently waiting for me to emerge so it could attack. I felt certain that stepping outside would have resulted in my being torn to shreds by whatever force was prowling around out there. I didn’t get a lot of good sleep that night, but I certainly had myself one hell of an interesting time.

The Following Morning - Looking West From Camp

We finally got up the next morning around 10 or 11, far later than we had planned. After spotting a super-sized storm building up directly over our location, we quickly got to packing up. Our idea was to head back North to Stove Pipe Wells, stopping to check out the few remaining post-card destinations along the way, then backpacking out onto the famous Mesquite Sand Dunes for the night. But Nature had other ideas in store for us.

On the way to our next stop, I had an interesting thought, which was that on this particular trip I seemed to be playing the part of the Lawyer from Hunter S. Thompson’s Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. Sharing my observation with Sean, he responded “Does that mean I get to be Johnny Depp?” Priceless.

Our entire day was pretty much ruined by severe cloud cover and an impending downpour, complete with sporadic drizzle, and absolutely horrendous light for Photographic pursuits. We had gotten up so late that we even had to skip a couple sights too, among them the Natural Bridge, which I now deeply regret. We also mistakenly thought that the Artist’s Drive & Palette would be worth visiting, but the light was so poor that most of the colors on the canyon walls were hardly discernible, and even in great lighting, I’m not so sure that this place would have been all that exciting anyway. So it goes!

Artoo's Arroyo - From Star Wars: A New Hope

The Artist’s Drive, however, does house a famous spot called “Artoos Arroyo” which sort of salvaged the day for me. I didn’t realize it while we were out there, but I took another shot nearly identical to that framed in Star Wars, which is actually pretty cool. I guess I also got a decent shot of Sean driving, in which you can see the clouds building up through the windshield. I also like the cliched self-portrait that I took, but I’m really not all that proud of any of the photos that I shot that day. It’s unfortunate, because Death Valley is so spectacularly beautiful, that even a single day lost is a major waste.

I do think that the Artist’s Drive might have been a sight worth visiting if the lighting had been better, or if I hadn’t already been spoiled by the Red Rocks in Sedona, the hoodus of Bryce Canyon, and the gigantic scale of the Grand Canyon, all of which I’d visited just weeks beforehand. To be fair- I’ve seen some pretty amazing stuff lately, and while most parts of Death Valley definitely compete with those places, the Artist’s Drive left a bit to be desired. I’ll leave it up for the jury to decide, but let’s just say that this was the only part of the Park I don’t feel compelled to revisit. Here’s that aforementioned shot of Sean, along with my own self-portrait.

Sean Driving Through the Storm

Self Portrait - Shot As We Entered The Artist's Drive (Timely, or Just Ironic?)

When we did finally make it back North to the Stovepipe Wells sand dunes, our plans were thrown for a loop. The sky looked far too ominous to venture out onto them without first consulting a Ranger for an updated weather report. I may be an idiot, but I’m not that careless. Unfortunately, the new Ranger on duty (not the same one we’d talked to the day before) had nothing but bad news for us.

“You boys are heading out into a miserable muddy mess”.

“Could we make it to Sequoia National Park tonight?” I inquired, in desperation. I was grasping at straws in an attempt to save the trip.

“Tonight? What are you gonna do? Drive over the highest mountain range in the lower 48? There’s no road through there.”

I had forgotten that Sequoia was on the other side of Mt. Whitney from us.

“Besides, the storm should clear out tonight.”

“Thanks” we muttered and left, dejected, but still undecided on a course of action. At least there seemed to be a chance that things could get better, as the Ranger had pointed out.

But just then, Sean spotted another Ranger in the parking lot and decided to try his luck again. I had a gut feeling that this was a bad idea, but for whatever reason I kept it to myself. Perhaps I was just desperate to get some good news and a nod of approval for our idiotic plan, but what we got from this guy was the complete opposite of that. Looking back, I should have stopped Sean when I had the chance.

As we approached him my body stiffened up and the hair on my neck stood straight and tall. I felt absolutely terrified, though I’m still not sure why. Perhaps it was because the Ranger had an incredibly stern look about him, or maybe it was just the gigantic pistol on his hip. As we approached to within around 15 feet, I swear I saw him unlatch the holster. It was at that point that I fully realized we’d made an absolutely enormous mistake.

“Could we ask you a question?” Sean started in.

“…” He just sort of stared at us with a disapproving look.

“You can ask.”

“Do you think it’s safe for us to camp out on the Dunes tonight?”

“There’s no camping outside of a campground in a National Park”. He had hardly let Sean finish the question before snapping back.

“But we…”

“There’s no camping outside of a campground in a National Park,” he repeated again, with more force than the first time.

Sean and I looked at each other, bewildered.

I started in with, “One of your colleagues told us earlier today that…” but he cut me off immediately. This guy was clearly not in a good mood, and he wanted nothing to do with us.

“There’s no camping outside of a campground in a National Park”. As he said it for the third time, he waved his hand over the word “Ranger” painted on the side of his truck and let us know that he had  “a ticket book right here to prove it”.

Whoa buddy, we get it. Conversation over.

We walked away even more upset than before. I snapped at Sean for putting us through that, telling him that we should have cut our losses earlier, since we’d already been told not to camp out there anyway simply due to the weather. Now we’d been informed that both our plans for that evening and our trip on the previous night were illegal, would get us fined, and possibly even kicked out of the Park. Bad times in a major way.

But Sean was pissed and he convinced me that “Screw that guy!”. So instead of giving up, we immediately made our way back to the Sand Dunes with the full intention of backpacking out onto them, despite what we’d been told. To be fair (we’re not that bad-ass), both of us were fairly certain that the mean Ranger had simply been mistaken, and that it was entirely legal for us to do that. This seemed especially likely since two of his colleagues had previously told us that we could camp on the Dunes as long as we were “at least 2 miles from the nearest road”. And the same statement is also printed quite clearly on both the Backcountry Roads and general Death Valley National Park Maps.

We managed to prepare for departure within minutes of our arrival, but not quickly enough to beat the setting sun. It was well past twilight by the time we started to strap the packs on. We then noticed what appeared to be some pretty serious rain falling across the valley on the other side of the dunes, but heading directly our way- and quickly. A solid sheet of water, mist, and fog, obscured the view of the mountains to the East. Our moment of hesitation lasted long enough for yet another Ranger to drive by in his jeep. I decided the risk was worth it this time, and flagged him down, hoping for another weather update.

“You guys are right. It’s definitely raining over there.” he responded to my initial inquiry. “And the thing about this place is, we either get no rain at all, or a total downpour. I wouldn’t advise heading out there tonight.”

“But are we allowed to? We’ve heard two completely different stories…”

“We’ve got a lot of,” he fidgeted uncomfortably, pausing for an extended beat as he searched for just the right phrase, “turn-over in the Park. We’re not always exactly on the same page. Let me look it up so I can make sure I don’t get you guys into all sorts of trouble.”

We were just happy to get more than a “Screw off” out of him at that point, considering the quality of our last Ranger encounter. Sean and I looked at each other with amazement as he walked back to his Jeep to grab the rules book. At least we had a chance!

And if I can make a quick side note, I didn’t realize it until writing this up, but it sounds to me like there might be some sort of Civil War brewing amongst the Rangers in Death Valley. This particular Ranger’s comment about “turn-over”, the staff being “not exactly on the same page”, and the suggestion to park in the dirt lot near Ashford Canyon which had been blocked off with rocks from Ranger Meth makes me wonder if there’s not some serious dissension amongst the ranks.

While the young Rangers encouraged us to backpack out into the wild, move things around, and generally just do whatever we needed to have a good time, the older crowd seemed pretty much intent on destroying all chances for having any fun at all! Thankfully both Sean and myself aren’t very big fans of doing what we’re told, so we didn’t let it get in the way of our having a good time.

And either way, Civil War or no, it was refreshing to speak with this Ranger, who took the time to converse with us, actually examine the rules book, and explain to us that we’d simply misinterpreted the statements made by his colleagues. Apparently the real rule in Death Valley is that you can camp “2 miles from any road” outside of the corridor established between the Stovepipe Wells Airport and the Ashford Mill.

With that in mind, we hadn’t broken the law the night before, we’d simply heard what we wanted to hear when receiving instructions. What the Ranger had really said (and what we recollected after looking at the map, upon which he’d left annotated instructions) was that we couldn’t actually camp on the Dunes, but that we were to head quite a ways North of them- past the Airport, and well within the acceptable zone for backcountry camping. Duh!

But to get back to the story, while standing out there in the dark and watching a virtual wall of rain bearing down on us, we agreed that backpacking was out of the question. Instead, we went back to the Stovepipe Wells campground, bought ourselves a site, and picked up some fire wood from the general store. Then we had ourselves one hell of a fire, which we lounged around in comfortable camp chairs while watching the storm move across the Valley. We never got much rain, but the wind picked up at just about the same time as it had the night before, sending us off to bed a little earlier than I would have wanted.

Sean woke me up just after sunrise the next morning and let me know that it was time to head out to the Dunes.

“I’d rather rest a little longer” was all that I could muster.

“I’ll come back for you then. After I check them out.”

I was in the car 30 seconds later. And I’m glad I got my ass in gear because I would have been furious if I’d missed out on that part of the adventure.

The Mesquite Sand Dunes turned out to be the star attraction of Death Valley, producing some of my most remarkable photos of the entire trip, and providing some incredibly outlandish experiences. The hike out onto them, and really the entire experience with the dunes themselves, was just interesting as all hell.

Walking through that desolate area, which appeared so much like an ocean in both form and movement, yet was completely the opposite in terms of composition, was absolutely mystifying. And as we approached the ridge lines of the larger dunes, I couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to get lost in such a beautiful, yet unforgiving and outright hostile environment.

Mesquite Sand Dunes - Glowing Sand at Sunrise

Mesquite Sand Dunes - Long Shadows of the Early Morning

Mesquite Sand Dunes - Morning Light

Sean got way out ahead of me, almost making it to the very top of the largest dune. I’m not sure why he turned back before reaching the top, but I’d guess it had something to do with the windstorm that blew in while we were out there. It’s hard to believe how quickly Death Valley’s weather can turn on you, even though we experienced it first hand. I’ve never encountered such violence or ferocity anywhere else (except at extremely high elevation), and we were in the Park during the period which is supposed to offer the best weather all year

The wind arrived with the same force that had attacked us on each of the previous nights, but we faced an entirely different problem out in the sand since we had absolutely nowhere to hide. We were entirely exposed, and knew fully well that we’d fall victim to whatever the storm God’s decided to throw at us- but luckily they held back. As it was, simply turning my back into the wind was enough to shelter my sensitive parts, and more importantly, my camera gear.

I watched as sand poured from the tips of each dune, quite similar in appearance to the spray of water that flows off the tips of crashing ocean waves. These sand dunes perfectly represented impermanence in both appearance and character, providing me with a great lesson in humility by allowing me a glimpse of the real shifting sands of the universe. I truly enjoyed just being able to spend some time in their presence. The following shots were taken over a period of a few hours, during two separate trips out into the sand. I was blown away by the Park’s beauty, and I hope that these photos will encourage you to make the journey out there, because it’s entirely worth the effort!

Mesquite Sand Dunes - Long Shadows

Mesquite Sand Dunes - A Sheltered Alcove of Shrubbery

Mesquite Sand Dunes - Graceful Lines

Mesquite Sand Dunes - Perfectly Oceanic In Appearance

Mesquite Sand Dunes - Golden, Glimmering Sand