Overture.

"When I make it to Moab, I'll get my canteen filled.
There's nothing that the road cannot heal." - Conor Oberst


Can an agnostic make a pilgrimage?

Not a trip.
Not a journey.
A pilgrimage.

My road trip was born of a kaleidoscope of motives. The necessity of getting my car to Pennsylvania from California, the consummation of a decade-long desire to cross America with friends, of experiencing cities I should have long before. 2,500 miles of break-up sex with the country I'm so anxious to leave.

Most of the stops were obvious: Chicago, Denver, Omaha the logical equidistant choice between the two. But the first night wasn't as simple. Vegas was too close, too tempting of a money drain, too familiar to me. Mapping the trip online, Cedar City, Utah seemed to be the only city of any size on the way to stop off in. But it was such a boring option, at best a waste of a night.

There's one more thing this road trip was to be: a prologue. Five days of travel to prep myself for the five months of wandering across Europe and Asia that begins a week from today. The appetizer. The overture. And that's why Cedar City didn't feel right to me. Yes... a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. But that step should at least be a purposeful one.

Lacking a launch pad, I at least had a mantra. There is nothing that the road cannot heal, taken from the Conor Oberst song "Moab."

Moab, Utah.

Without knowing why I chose it, I did. Even if you can't see the tumblers aligning, falling in to place, that sound is unmistakable. Moab. I was drawn to it, without knowing why. A week ago, one of my oldest friends and I got in my car and left Los Angeles for Moab, Utah- a 50 mile deviation from our path, but one I was compelled to explore. Even on the way there, we had to pull over at least a dozen times on the 70 East to take in the wondrous nature that surrounded us. Your eyes can breathe deeper than your lungs.

A quiet night in Moab, and the next day hiking throughout the town's signature attraction, Arches National Park. We stood on the earthen floor surrounded by stoic giants, silent as awed children. We did more than inhale the view; we tapped deeply in to that Jungian Eden, the collective unconscious. A vivid, overwhelming rush of memories made by strangers, but remembered by me. Visitors from all throughout the country, the world, drawn here. To Moab. And they were everpresent, the eager ghosts of their faded wonder reawakened by our arrival. An experience I've savored only once before, in Brooklyn riding the Coney Island Cyclone. Two places entirely dissimilar, except for their fundamental effect upon the visitor- to strip away all layers of preconception, all idiosyncrasies of personality, to penetrate deeply, immediately to the single common denominator all humanity shares. Call it our basic innocence, the soul, the Atman, the karma... as an agnostic it is inexpressible, unclassifiable. But no less real, no less mesmerizing, no less available. If you find the right setting.

Moab. A reminder that tapping in to the collective unconscious is not a one-way transaction. Justin and I stirred up the memories of a century of visitors, famous and anonymous. But we also deposited our emotions, our innocent elation, back in to that intangible reservoir as well. The closest an agnostic can come to infinity. Pilgrimage by happenstance.

(more photos)http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2098648&id=35804394&l=aed563481e

Road trip soundtrack:
Conor Oberst - "Moab"
Counting Crows - "Omaha" & "Holiday in Spain"
Tapes 'n Tapes - "Omaha"
Common ft. Kanye West - "Southside"
Kings of Leon - "Frontier City"
The Cardigans - "You're the Storm"
Taking Back Sunday - "Where My Mouth Is" & "Everything Must Go"