PETRIFIED FOREST & PAINTED DESERT

WINTER 10




















A CLASH OF TITANS
Sweeping views and a territorial scat on a narrow ledge jutting out from the cliff edge... I've found it, my spot for the night.

It is now dusk and i head back to my pack left on the plateau. But now — incomprehensibly — the GPS leads me astray. Dawns a frightful realization: my backpack is lost and in it the indispensable safety gear for the night. With quickly dropping temperatures and an icy wind picking up, it's getting serious.

Trying to orient myself in the dark, i try, try, and try some more, until i enventually succeed to run into the boundary fence of the Navajo Reservation — against which i had had the dim common sense of leaving my pack on an otherwise featureless terrain. It is now just a matter of following that fence, first one way, then when that fails the other way, to guide me to my pack.


The protection of boundary-ruling Saturn against the freedom of (failing!) technology-ruling Uranus — 2 archetypal energies currently opposite in the sky and in the affairs of this world. At my (oh-so-frail) human scale this evening i have been instrument of their clash.