Sunrise, Namibia

After yesterday's posting about my lack of enlightenment at Varanasi, India, I wanted to share a few images and words about a place that did inspire me. Above, are some images that I took at Dune 45, near Sesriem, Namibia.

This is a dawn that I will never forget. I woke in a tent, pitched under a large acacia tree in a dusty bushcamp at Sesriem. When I dragged myself out of my tent it was still pitch dark. I ate a quick breakfast (I can always eat) and then clambered into the truck that I had traveled there inside, to race across the desert, from the gate of the camp to this, Dune 45 - the highest of the local dunes and the 45th dune to be named by whoever does the dune naming in these parts. I remember watching the first, sharp rays of white-yellow-almost-blue sunlight rising like molten metal, on the horizon line as the truck rattled over the sands.

When we stopped, myself and my fellow travelers shivered as we made our way towards the foot of the dune and, conscious of the onset of dawn and the speed with which the sun was sure to rise, we began to plod quickly up the thick and cold side of sheer dune. Despite the fact that with each step, my feet sank deep and safe into the sand, a bolt of fear ran down my spine as I climbed higher and higher along the dune's rim, staring down the steep, smooth sides that fell away in either direction.

Finally, I reached the top and sat into the soft, orange sand to watch the first lights of the day chase over the desert. Far and wide, the sands rippled with fresh colour as the rays of morning danced over the surface of the dry earth below. The dunes were black against the brightness of sunlight; ripples of cool silk in the soon to be white-fire-bright morning.

This moment, this place, I 'got'. There was no confusion, no million deities, no secret vatican archive of bureaucratic letters. This was a moment of pure spirituality; a moment of such beauty that it took the breath away and one that could have happened at any time since time began. It was universal and, in my still short life, without compare.

In the minutes that I sat atop the dune, watching in silence as the desert became flooded with colours of rust, rose and bruise, I understood, in the purest sense, what is the meaning of life. It was a sensation, something that I could not annunciate, or touch with my fingers or taste with my tongue, but that I could feel with some other sense, a deeper sense that is somewhere inside.

If I could explain that meaning I would do, but the sun rose, the moment passed and now I continue searching, for a way to gain that sense once more and to sustain it, in a meaningful manner, that I can apply to more than one sunrise, so far away and long ago.