Last weekend, the weather inspired an impromptu excursion to the Salt Flats. Still new to Utah, I know there are a number of natural wonders I have yet to discover & explore, so there’s a sense of excitement that stems from new adventures. Little did I expect to see incredible beauty in a very unique form. Sure, there are those images of the Salt Flats widely known, the cracked arid surface of a drag strip where ATVs & cars go full throttle, speeding through the landscape. That I was familiar with–not so much the Salt Flats that greeted me, submerged under only an inch or two of reflective water, remnants of the spring thaw & rains.

On an almost cloudless afternoon, the brilliant blues of the sky created spectacular reflections in that mirrored surface. Aquamarine leading into azures, azures leading into cobalt.

As I think about the typical associations with “salt,” you know, associations with that salty disposition or a brininess of constitution, I almost exclusively have thought of New Englanders, & not so much people from Utah, home of these sodium landscapes. And I never expected to see the kinds of whites & blues I’d usually associate with Greece & the island of Santorini in this western state–magical colors striking in brilliant contrast. The salt crystals actually sparkle everywhere you look, so I felt a little like I was in Twilight, looking at vampires glittering in the sunshine, which caused me a chuckle to myself at the time. It’s fun to think of the color palette that’s been developing in my mind & soul from travel. Colors like the beautiful jade of an Alpine glacial lake outside of Gstaad, Switzerland, or the bright vermilion of the recently visited Zion Canyon or the deep ocher of aged stone walls in the quads of Cambridge & Oxford, England.

How I love adding unique hues to my palette, colors that I associate with life experiences filled with wonder & appreciation. A curated collection of remembered kaleidoscopic pigments.

What I had conjured up in my mind to represent the Salt Flats were more of those ubiquitously known, cracked, desolate expanses, bleak & devoid of life. Almost like a Mars landscape but white instead of red. Yet, what actually met my eyes were lands with glorious colors, even if foreign in crystalline forms & reflective pool displays. The contrast between the blues & whites were beyond describing, & the pictures I took, even displayed here, do no justice to the experience of seeing the scenes in person. I’m reminded of Emerson’s sage advice that those who want to feel nature, to connect & experience its majesty, must look to the outdoors & not pictures or art for inspiration.

Whatever humans try to create–it cannot compare to that sublime feeling gazing upon natural wonders inspires. There’s just no substitute, period.

As an introvert, nature just has a way of restoring me, bringing me back to my soul & sense of self. Whenever I feel lost, I return to nature to find who I am again. It’s the only way I can feel connected to something bigger beyond the mundane routine of life, with throngs of people & pressing timelines & endless tasks. Worries just fall away, & I then remember what it was to be that little girl awed by crashing ocean waves or shooting stars falling in the night sky. Nature has a way of pulling me out of the social construct of social human identity into that something bigger of what cosmic existence even means. We are here to experience that something bigger, & that’s what gives life purpose & meaning.

And so, I return, again & again to nature, and, again & again, I add new things to memory, adding to the palette of my mind & soul those colors & hues of life. The palette of my mind & soul.