Standing amidst the timeless beauty of Monument Valley, I was dwarfed by the towering sandstone buttes that rose majestically from the desert floor. Their size was one thing—massive, commanding, and seemingly unshakable—but their timeless longevity was something else entirely. These formations have stood here for 25 million years, weathered by wind and rain, witnessing the quiet passage of time. Compared to their ancient stillness, my existence felt like a fleeting whisper, yet it was humbling rather than diminishing.

A Guided Journey Through Time

Determined to capture the essence of this sacred place, I hired a Navajo guide to take me deeper into the park, beginning well before dawn. The pre-dawn chill clung to the desert, and the only sounds were our boots crunching on the sandy ground and the occasional howl of a distant coyote. As we made our way to a carefully chosen location, my guide shared stories about his people, the Diné, and their deep spiritual connection to this land.

We arrived at the base of a butte just as the first faint light began to creep over the horizon. I set up my tripod and waited for the perfect moment to capture “The Quiet Before Dawn”—a photo that shows Monument Valley cloaked in soft, pre-dawn hues, the buttes standing like sentinels under an indigo sky.

As the sun began to rise, casting golden light on the sandstone, I took “Sun Salutations,” where the clouds and the foliage create natural pathways to the grandeur of the buttes. The experience of shooting through daybreak felt like a sacred ritual. The light, the shadows, and the stories shared by my guide blended together into a symphony of connection and reverence.

A Night in a Hogan

For this leg of my journey, I stayed in a traditional hogan—a simple structure made of logs and mud. The hogan lacked indoor plumbing, and its only source of heat was a wood-burning stove. The night was bone-chillingly cold, but the warmth of the fire offered a temporary reprieve. In the middle of the night, I woke up shivering; the fire had burned out. Wrapped in layers of clothing and blankets, I stepped outside to gather more wood to rekindle the flames, only to be greeted by the darkest skies I’ve ever seen. Monument Valley is renowned for having some of the darkest skies in North America, and that night, it was as if the universe had unveiled its masterpiece.

Star Trails and Timelessness

Inspired, I grabbed my camera gear and lantern and found a dark spot near the hogan. I set up my camera for a long exposure, using myself as the subject. The resulting image, “The Passage of Time,” captures the star trails spiraling above me, a tiny figure holding a lantern beneath the ancient buttes. As I stared at the heavens, I couldn’t help but marvel at the contrast between the 25-million-year-old sandstone formations and the 13.8-billion-year-old universe (yes, I had to double-check that number). The stars above moved in perpetual motion, tracing arcs across the sky, yet the buttes stood still—timeless witnesses to it all. It was a reminder that while we often think of progress as something loud and fast, the greatest changes happen slowly, imperceptibly, over millennia. Even as I moved beneath the stars, setting my camera to capture their dance, I felt like a ripple in a vast, timeless ocean.

Reflections and Lessons

Monument Valley revealed itself in quiet moments. The night in the hogan was cold and raw, the fire dwindling until the chill woke me. Outside, the stars spread endlessly across the sky, undimmed by modern life. I stood there, bundled against the desert night, and felt the depth of the darkness and the age of the land around me. The buttes loomed in silence, unshaken by time or weather. Their presence felt steady, patient—a reminder that resilience isn’t loud, but enduring. These formations had stood for millions of years, shaped by forces that worked slowly and without urgency. There was no need for embellishment here. Everything felt stripped down to its essentials—space, time, and stillness.

Monument Valley doesn’t demand attention; it simply exists. And in that simplicity, I found clarity.