I didn’t grow up dreaming about the Guadalupe Mountains. Didn’t even know they existed until a few years ago. But some part of me - the down ceep in the soul - knew I had to get here.
I’ve been running my whole damn life. From people, places, versions of myself that were too small. Running toward something, too - something I couldn’t name. Just a shape in the distance that felt more like me than what I saw in the mirror.
And now I’m here. First marker - the Guadalupes.
They don’t look real when you come up on them. Jagged fossils rising out of flat Texas scrub. Like time collapsed and left its ole’ bones behind. These aren’t just hills or rocks - they’re the remains of an ancient reef that once sat under a prehistoric sea. Now they’re a ghost wall in the desert. A ribcage holding something sacred and holy - giving iff a dazzling energy that envelopes me.
The Mescalero Apache say the mountains hold spirit energy - shadow forms, guides, old truths that show up when you’ve walked far enough to deserve an answer. Others say this is where the desert folds into another world - a hinge between the visible and the hidden.
I’m not here for answers exactly. I just needed to see them. To prove to myself I could make it this far.
I ain’t done running. But for the first time, I’m not running blind. Follow me in Substack for what’s next - it’s already in the works 😉 -
https://substack.com/@theangelaperez
Share this post