A Rift as Perspective
Erg Chicaga
By Olivia Ortiz
At that moment, I knew I was small. Being small isn’t a bad thing, though. Just an often-overlooked detail of humanity. Sometimes we kill spiders in the kitchen for our loved ones — feel big, feel powerful. Other times, times like these, we’re put in perspective by the vastness of nature. She swallows us up, holds us in her arms, reminds us that it’s okay to be small. It is okay to be small.
Just a few hours after this photo was taken during the sunset, I got lost chasing the rising sun. Then, being small was a nightmare. “I’ll just climb up to that next dune,” I thought, over and over again, straying further and further from camp. By the time I realized what I had done, how I had wandered into the desert without a phone, how I had emptied my water bottle to collect a little bit of sand for a keepsake, it was too late for regret.
Then, it was calm. The Earth was no longer soft, she no longer comforted and held me, but her vastness reassured me nonetheless. I was small and I knew it, I was no longer afraid. I found serenity in the acceptance of my helplessness. Panic subsided and relief slowly washed over me as I wandered back in what I hoped was the direction of the camp.
The desert is funny that way, you can hold it - like the sand in my water bottle — but it can hold you, too. In a moment of fear and worry, the sheer expanse of the desert felt like home, felt comfortable. It’s funny in other ways, too. It stays with you. It took weeks to get the sand out of my ears, longer to get it out of my clothes, longer still to get it out of my mind. The desert is a harsh unforgiving place, but it doesn’t need to be scary, the same way humans are small and fragile but don’t need to be scared.