Blog Entry 28 * 6-1-22
Today I headed south out of Utah toward Arches National Park. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to go in because I didn’t have a timed entry ticket. Many national parks switch to this system at the start of their busy season, and I hadn’t realized Arches had already made the change. So I’ve added it to my list to return either by arriving super early (before the timed entry starts at 7 a.m.) or by reserving a slot in advance next time I'm in the area.
Instead, I continued south to Mesa Verde. The park is much larger than I remembered from when I visited as a kid with my parents. I recall my dad leaving in a bit of a hurry, but as I drove deeper and deeper into the wilderness to reach the cliff dwellings, I started to understand why—it’s quite a drive.
Even so, the moment I arrived, I felt a calmness that was different from other parks. Mesa Verde has a quiet strength to it. The views stretch far across the mesas, and there’s a steady stillness in the air that feels grounding. It’s the kind of place that naturally slows you down and draws your attention inward.
As I walked along the overlooks and trails, I found myself thinking about the people who once lived here—how much care and thought must have gone into carving homes into the cliffs, how deeply connected they must have been to the land. There’s a peacefulness that lingers, almost like the land itself remembers and continues to hold their presence.
While exploring this majestic place, I was picturing Rādhā and Krishna with me, and I could feel that divine connection resonate—bridging something old and something new. The beauty of the mesas, the silence, and the vast open sky all seemed to carry that same sacred presence.
Mesa Verde has a gentle power to it—a mix of beauty, history, and reflection. I left feeling both peaceful and grateful, reminded again that the earth itself can help us reconnect with something sacred, just by being still and present.