Though 'Round the Girdled Earth They Roam
“Oh, they’re not related to us by blood - just by love.”
A man, one I have called friend and now know as a brother, has been making annual roadtrips around the country and, because he has been ensnared by the sentinels of the Sonoran Desert, the Saguaro, he has made a recent, regular effort to visit my small piece of the world.
I was born and raised among the Saguaro. The ancient and imposing (and just damn tough) cacti are considered a “keystone species” of, and are endemic to, the Sonoran Desert. As a culture, it is the belief of the O’odham that the Saguaro cacti are the embodiment of our ancestors, and wherever they stand is our land - our O’odham Jeved. The O’odham, the Sonoran Desert, and the Saguaro are all inextricably one.
The desert is a hard place, but life, as always, makes its way, and the infinite dance of life, as always, makes unimaginable magic. It is impossible to stand among the Saguaro and not feel the centuries of struggle and success they have witnessed and experienced. Hardship is inevitable; they have known it, they have endured it, and they assure us that struggle is natural, passing, and defeatable through understanding, patience, and will. They have also stood witness to 10,000 sunrises and inspire us to believe in 10,000 more.
My friend Tom Ryan is a writer from New England - a region quite nearly the opposite of all that characterizes the Sonoran Desert, but New England can be just as hard - freezing rather than burning and flooding rather than desiccating. For me, the novelty of those differences was alluring to me, and I decided to attend four years of college there. Eventually, and quite easily too, novelty turned to expectation then to appreciation and then to love. I am forever grateful to have experienced and lived in New England (though as I told Tom, after that first winter, my love for, and commitment to return home to the Sonoran Desert was unquestioned.)
Tom and I became friends through years of writing and sharing experiences, opinions, and feelings, but we never met in-person until a few days ago. I was surprised (though, honestly, not as much as I think I should have been) when Tom reached out to me to let me know he was going to be stopping in Scottsdale (and, in fact, staying at a hotel built on my tribe’s reservation lands) on his 2026 Coddiwomple and was open to meeting.
The final arrangement of logistics to bring us together fell together remarkably easy, and though I am reluctant to claim any understanding whatsoever of the identity or meaning of God, I have faith in the game of balance Providence plays and am inclined to attribute the final perfect conditions under which Tom and I met to divine influence.
The early morning on the last day of June, 2026 was ideal for the Sonoran Desert. When we reached where I had invited Tom to, the Red Mountain and Salt and Verde River natural preserve area of my tribe’s reservation, the Salt River Pima-Maricopa Indian Community, it was 65 degrees as the sun rose higher into a cloudless sky. (I had actually somewhat hoped we might meet in the afternoon of a hot day with a windy, dusty, and lightning filled rainstorm approaching - but predicting monsoon storms is precisely like trying to predict exactly when and where bubbles will form in boiling water.)
Our understanding of one another as men and humans was effortless. I have experienced seeing friends I have not seen in years and feeling as if it had maybe only been a day since our last meeting. I felt the same way with Tom even though we had never even ever met, face to face, before.
Some of my original intended plans changed. I realized I should have met Tom earlier - as even on the mildest of June days, the temperatures rise rapidly in the desert summer, and I did not want to expose us to any unnecessary level of danger, so I purposely limited the distance up the side of Red Mountain that we walked, but the unforeseen also contributed. Tom’s two canine companions took to the desert like ducks to water - in the case of Emily, quite literally.
I knew, but forgot, that Emily loved being in water, so I should have anticipated Emily’s reaction to the side channel of a side channel of the flowing Salt River to which I brought Tom, Sam, and Emily.
As a natural preserve area, access to the rivers is not the easiest. Roads are dirt, often extremely sandy, and usually a bit removed from the rivers’ courses. Additionally, the routes of the rivers this close to the foot of Red Mountain are often defined by steep, rocky areas. I chose to walk with Tom and Sam and Emily down to a slow-moving side channel of the Salt River covered in mesquite with shallow waters accessed by a path of deep silt. As soon as we reached the water’s edge, and I was assessing the lay of the land following recent years’ flooding, I saw a flash of black out of the corner of my eye then heard a splash.
I knew it wasn’t a wild horse (which are known to enter the river here) as the splash was relatively small, and for a second I thought it might have been an otter or even a chuckwalla lizard, but then I saw Emily happily swimming in the Salt River. That moment was, simultaneously, my most concerning and most joyful of the morning (and maybe this year so far) - to see a friend from a foreign land embracing a moment of joy at a desert oasis she had never been to before but that has brought relief and joy to locals for centuries.
It was a morning of comfort and trust and sharing. Reservation of thought and feeling abandoned us, and persons were laid bare. I was granted the luxury of hearing a story-teller create in real time, and I, in turn, held little back in sharing my knowledge, perceptions, and dreams.
At one point, Tom asked me the simple question, “Are you happy?” Tom knew I had experienced great struggle, pain, and loss in my life over the last few years, but I believe he also knew that I always endeavor to look up and out and to appreciate the many blessings I also receive every day. My response to him was an immediate and unquestioned, “yes, absolutely”. However, I did reflect on the question and answer. I am, without any doubt, happy. I exist in a position of obligation but also privilege - and also in a place of infinite love. I have realized a life of peace out of turmoil and one of success out of challenge, and it is all just that - realization - brought about by personal action but also by simple recognition. I am faithful that life is as it should be; I open my eyes, and my soul, to the beauty of a mysterious and magnificent world, and I am grateful for friends - for family - like Tom, that give me that occasional push to remember and to appreciate.
Too soon, however, Tom, Sam, and Emily had to return to the road and leave my home behind, but that’s alright. Every day is another day, and every day renews the promise of life - the essential goodness of the universe - even if that promise rests on a far reaching curve. Tom and I shall share more between us, and if it is meant to be, Tom and I will even meet in-person again.
All things, always, happen as and when they should.