In July of summer past, I was on the other sides of the States.
I had taken a couple of weeks off work at the CBC to travel through the southwest with some friends from Belgium.
Them Flemish gals were on a one-month expedition through those parts, so after spending a few days in San Francisco by myself, I met up with them in Los Angeles to join in on a portion of their road trip.
In a little blue rental, we covered a lot of ground in a very short amount of time; mountainous ground, desert ground, prickly and rocky and grandiose ground that you’ve only ever seen on a calendar.
Of all the places we hit, however, the spot that took my breath the most was the Grand Canyon.
I could NOT stop clicking the camera shutter as we walked around the rim that afternoon.
The site of my own shoes hanging over a mile-long drop hardly sunk in as real. Each angle of the view brought a new perspective; the colours seemed to change every time we gazed over what surely had to be a painting.
Though a picture is worth one thousand words, I needed only 119 of them when I sought to catch the day in writing.
Here they are as I wrote them exactly one year ago; words that give me goosebumps, even now, and ones that perhaps need to be repeated, regardless of the thing in front of us –
“Today – we stood on the edge of the Grand Canyon.
And I cried.
Unbelievable hues extending farther than my sight.
Stone and rock beneath me weathered, yet eternally steadfast.
Air – a kind so intoxicating – brewing in the cracks before POURING over the rim.
All part of a masterpiece proclaiming the most brilliant reminder:
Between the ticking of our daily routines, outside of our conversations and decisions, and regardless of the storms in our heads – what makes us anxious, what we must do tomorrow, where we should go next –
There is something so much greater happening right NOW – independent from our influence and so beautifully and perfectly out of our control.
That, is grand.
Breathe in, friends! Refresh!”