our daughter wrote, “it’s a hidden gem!” and i agree. we were grateful for her encouraging us to adventure here.
one of my favorite places, goblin valley state park in utah was a playground like no other. two artists – with active imaginations – we could have stayed there all day. this place – full of hoodoos and really interesting sandstone/siltstone formations engaged us, made us giggle, invited us to run about in delight, insisted we play.
we were invigorated – even in intense heat and unforgiving sun. even as we were there – even before we had to leave – we talked about coming back, to be with these sprites, enchanting stone babies.
we traveled to many national parks in our nine days all together. though we would hike to take photographs and explore sites a bit, our inclination to hike the narrows at zion remains a wish for another day, trails at bryce remain unseen. the hike right up to delicate arch at arches will have to wait and an attempt at crossing the grand canyon – rim to rim – or even riding down into the canyon didn’t make the cut – this time.
but goblin valley was another story. and the absolute charm of these goblins tugged at us – taunting us and enchanting us.
i sat down on one of these sandstone sculptures, tucked into its graceful shape – mystified by the sheer beauty of the valley. once again, i was but a tiny being, part of a much bigger whole.
this time – this time – i was touching the past, the present and the future…a sandstone deposit from 170 million years ago…this very day…and these magical hoodoos which would prevail long after i am gone.
in an understatement of understatements, the words “not bad” on the sticker on the railing at this bryce canyon overlook made me laugh aloud.
for this was grandeur, indeed.
the expansive country in front of us – here at our very first overlook – rainbow point, the highest elevation of the stops.
the national park brochure describes it as poetry in stone and i would agree. it is a dynamic place, ever-changing, engaging beyond the pale. you cannot help your heart soaring, your pulse racing. it is every word and no words.
we were thrilled. to be there. to be there all together. to experience this inspiring place.
the brochure promised mesmerizing. the canyon land did not fall short.
we have been really cautious through all this time – years, really – trying to be respectful of and avoid getting covid.
but here we are…in our matchy-matchy red buffalo plaid flannel pjs, suffering together.
those who have been through this already know about the fever, the headache, the incessant cough, the intense sore throat, the congestion, the tightness in your chest, the exhaustion, the aches and pains and all that. it is one hellish virus. it’s somewhat stressful for me just knowing i have this. i can’t help but remember the early days of the pandemic and the heart-breaking devastation it wrought. we have been fortunate; we haven’t ever tested positive before though we have each had some of the symptoms.
but here we are…in our matchy-matchy flannels, complaining and whining together.
a good night’s sleep seems like a really good idea – until you are laying there, coughing your silly head off all night.
dogga doesn’t seem to mind how we look or sound – and we are ever-so-grateful to be home.
but we are a bit worse for wear.
so don’t mind us as we stay put – here in our house or out on our back deck…in our red buffalo plaids, sniffling and coughing and making our way out of covidland.
“there is nothing so american as our national parks…the fundamental idea behind the parks…is that the country belongs to the people, that it is in process of making for the enrichment of the lives of all of us.” (president franklin d. roosevelt, 1934)
it is impossible to stand in our national parks and not be filled with a pure sense of patriotism. the vistas of zion national park – and each place we experienced – sparked our “america, the beautiful“.
even right now, when the word “patriotic” presents entendre at best questionable, we could feel it…the heart-swelling kind, the proud-of-this-land kind, the we-are-so-fortunate kind. certainly not the nationalistic, extremist, exclusionary, divisive, white-man-only-drum-beating kind.
we were all trying to take a little time away from politics, from the news of the day, trying to immerse in the beauty and ignore the ugly.
but – i must say – ignoring the ugly in the middle of the beautiful seemed irresponsible to me. because just as our national parks are fundamentally ours – belonging to the people of this country – so is the constitution and the goodness of this country. and that, my friends, is in peril. and i could not forget it…even out in the sacred wild-ness of this land.
project 2025 – the playbook for maga – seeks to repeal the 1906 antiquities act – the first united states law passed for the purpose of protection of these national parks and places of national monument, protecting cultural and natural resources with historic or scientific value. project 2025 wishes to eviscerate these protections, giving that administration free latitude on decisions for all these lands.
standing in bryce, in zion, in arches, in capitol reef, in the grand canyon, we can only be too aware of the presence of the protections for these glorious tracts of land. we cannot imagine another fate for these places of intense beauty. this landmark law – the antiquities act – has safeguarded these places for the use and enjoyment of current and future generations – a law of responsibility and virtue.
the national park service pledge promises to the people of the united states “the owners of our nation’s parklands” – among other things: “to protect your right to experience the presence of superlative wildness and scenic grandeur, to communicate to all an understanding of the people and events that shaped these united states, to join with all people of this and other nations in conserving and renewing the total environment to keep this world a pleasure to live in…”
there was an older woman – likely in her 70s – heading toward us on the path. she was clearly enjoying her time at the park. and as she passed, she proudly wore a “womenfor –” maga hat on her head. i stared at her hat. every ounce of me wanted to stop her and have a conversation. i wanted to know what had happened to her in her life that made her wish for a man who demeans, abuses, detests women to be the president of this beautiful country. i wanted to know how she could – in all good conscience – wear a hat with the name of a convicted felon, a rapist, a liar, a racist, a misogynist, a grifter, an insurrectionist, an exceptionally narcissistic inward soul-less and pathetic old man. i wanted to know how she could support that candidate’s efforts to undermine the rights of so many. i wanted to know if she was thinking about any future generations. i wanted to know how she could justify that candidate’s desire for autocracy, for revenge, for a cruel and divided america. i wanted to know how she could walk on this sacred and protected land knowing that her candidate of choice doesn’t give a damn about it. i wanted to know how she could wear THAT hat.
i simply cannot wrap my head around it.
it was impossible to avoid. here we were – in the grand expanse of unspeakable and stunning beauty – and i was worried.
there is little time left before this election.
it is time to get patriotic – in the purest and truest sense of that word. protect the constitution of this country. protect the rights of the people. protect the land. protect your daughters and sons and grandchildren. protect the united states.
turn the page on this hideous candidate and the extremism of his ugly self-serving and incoherent, angry rhetoric, his vile intentions.
move forward. keep this world a pleasure to live in.
*****
patriotic: having or expressing devotion to and vigorous support for one’s country.
“happiness is….happiness is….happiness is…different things to different people. that’s what happiness is.” (ray conniff)
i can’t use these glasses – gifted to us – without hearing that song. our tonic and lime makes it happen every time. I don’t fight it. i succumb to it – humming or bursting into song – at least inside my head.
nine years ago the monday of this week was the start. everyone was on their way – sometime during that week. we entertained at our old house each night – and everyone present came for dinners we prepared with an entourage of kitchen helpers. it was a barn raising in every good way.
by the time we actually got married – at the end of the week – we were pretty darn tired. but happiness? it was abundant.
every now and then there is a moment, a snag, a who-are-you-and-what-are-you-doing-here. we all have them. but, in the way of moments, they are momentary. and if i give myself space to think about the passage of time and everything that has brought us to the puny moment, to allow in perspective, i am able to process, to rejuvenate out of puny, back to happiness. ok….not an immediate bouncing-dancing-leaping-about kind of happiness, but a deep-from-within happiness that reminds me of the reason we two people joined. the support, belief and love of our families, friends, community have generously seen us through.
every now and then there is a moment, a wildly astonishing wide-eye, a heart-lifting teary eye, an i-wouldn’t-wanna-be-anywhere-else. and, in the way of moments, it is a gift, a reminder of the unlikeliness of ever having met, a gratitude for how the universe aligned two tiny stars distantly apart, a peek into the big heart – and the sense of humor – of whatever deity you wish to name. those are bouncing-dancing-leaping-about kinds of happiness moments.
each year that we celebrate another year we relive that week preceding our wedding. each year we are grateful. each year we are really aware of happiness … which begets happiness … which begets happiness.
years ago now. it was almost inky night, clear, a bit brisk but not windy. as i moved from the bank into the middle of the flow i noticed it. the moonlinefollowed me…everywhere i went. despite all the time i had already spent at water’s edge and on the water, it was the first time – in my memory – that it became apparent to me – this moonbeam shadow of mine.
and i think of you – my love, my children, my family, dear friends – next to me or somewhere else in this world – looking at the night sky as well. this same moon. with your own personal moonbeam shadow. and i am heartened by our sharing of this. for if we are looking at the same moon, then certainly we are not too far from each other. under the same sky, the same stars, the same blanket of galaxy.
so as i stand on rocks next to lake michigan i am reassured by this season of the full moon. and as i think of you, i whisper along the beam, hoping that the moon will deliver you my words.
“…when the moon dances in your hair, i will be there…for all the days of your life, for all your life …” (kerri sherwood – for all your life)
“burning sundown, colored autumn trees, mountain rivers, country livers put my mind at ease. and to realize such perfect harmonies, i’m standing in the dawn of a new day coming on and i’m looking for no tomorrow.” (john denver – in the grand way)
breck is turning. little by little we can see it. if it isn’t too stressed in a week or two, this aspen will be golden and its leaves will shimmer in the sun. breck is standing in the moment…tall, steadfast, perfect…in the dawn of a new day coming on.
i get that. after everything, every big and little thing that has happened over the last few years, i feel like i am – at last and finally – standing in the dawn – here, now – and looking for no tomorrow.
we are – in this sweet phase – doing right now. to be present in your present is, i think, a gift you give yourself. we sprint the rest of the time – striding, striding, sprinting, sprinting – to something we can’t necessarily qualify. we’ve all taken our turn doing this.
and, sitting in the mountain stream, we laid it all down. it floated off with the leaf bits floating past our old brown boots perched on slippery rocks in the middle of the flow. looking for no tomorrow.
“whatever a house is to the heart and body of man-refuge, comfort, luxury-surely it is as much or more to the spirit.” (mary oliver)
we’ll travel a bit soon. a trip that’s been semi-planned – and postponed – for some time. even before setting out, we know it will be great fun, adventuring with friends, moseying the country with them. there is a sweetness to anticipation.
and it’s funny. every time i get close to going away – anywhere – i have a distinct appreciation for our own home. there is something that rises up for me before a trip – a reminder of how really dear home is to me – our old house, our backyard, this amazing lake just a bit to our east, our dogga, our life here. we take walks in the days before leaving and mother earth does her very best at impressing us – a showcase of unparalleled beauty, a display of what’s-right-here.
and it’s no different this time.
even the unexpected worn-gasket-water-pipe-union spewing water into our basement cannot change this feeling. even d’s all-day wet vac duty, carpet that was soaked, stuff that needed to be moved out of the way, the unplanned cost of an expert plumber – even all that didn’t dim this appreciation of home.
we have traveled a lot together and i have become aware of how true it is that you carry home with you. we’ve taken home – together – overseas and all over our nation. this trip will be just the same – a great exploring – while holding home between us.
we are excited to go, to be fed by new places and new experiences, fodder for our muses, our spirits expanding with the time away.
and, at the same time, here i am – smitten by our own home, my spirit filled before we even leave.
we have one life. one. we get to live this life here once. once.
it would seem prudent to live it united in peace, united about preserving equality and opportunity in the world, united with mindfulness about our environment, about wellness, about virtue.
it would not seem in our best interest to be divided, to be cruel or vicious, to inflict inequalities upon others, to be careless about our earth, to live ugly.
i’m struck – day after day these days – by how ugly ugly can get. there is no bottom bar. instead there is the deepest of evil crevasses from which people mine the power they desire, the control they feed upon, the extreme ugly they intend.
i have lost sleep over this – night after night. i have ranted and i have been horrified. i have wept and i have felt scared.
but I continue to have hope.
hope that there are more and more people – out there – who wish to live in gratitude, who wish to be caring, who lead with kindness, with generosity, who wish to move forward, to keep evolving, who are united by nature, whose nature it is to celebrate being united, who don’t choose to live ugly.
this is age-old, like an aesop’s fable, like a timeworn adage, like a proverbial proverb. there are likely even petroglyphs chiseled into rocky canyon walls telling this story for all time: for the most part (and i don’t use all-encompassing language on purpose, for always there are exceptions) packing is not the same for men as it is for women.
as much as i would love to pack light, to pack smart, to pack minimally, it is apparently not in my dna strands to do so. and so i will succumb to the challenge – every time. i will wake in the night and review my list, try on my choices. i will list and cross out and list again. i will ponder and try to imagine every scenario in which i need clothing, try to anticipate every need.
it’s exhausting.
when i traveled a lot – playing concerts and shows – i was much better at packing. i have gotten out of the habit (and into a different body, let’s not forget) and so it requires much more thought, much more ruminating, perseverating even. good grief! it’s a full-time job getting ready.
i’m pretty sure it will take him about twenty minutes to pack. que sera sera.
in the meanwhile, i’ll be over here bearing, climbing and fording my burden, mountain and river. whatever.
reverse threading 