the view.

unplanned things like this usually stressed me out.

but sitting in the back of Rob's jeep, roof off, flying down the highway, I was at peace.



radiantly calm. joyfully alight.

we were on our way to Zion.



the drive in was a blast of reds and yellows; the faces of canyon walls shone in the mid-afternoon sun. some contrasting green foliage in the well-watered suburban outlier towns was my only reminder we humans had made our way in by force. this was Mama Earth's land. not ours. She LET us stay here, make homes, make trails. it was a privilege. 

I remember feeling that distinctly.


for a while, our plan was to hike Angel's Landing, but after a week of Elevation and both of the men bouldering in morning, the new plan was to explore the canyon outlook trail instead.


we began our climb to the top, laughing and chatting about things like wilderness rescue and places on the trail where Rob rescued kids. I was laughing, but John and Rob were talking shop, so I went inward.


I was too focused on everything else to be apart of conversation, anyway.


--


you know when you can sense you are reaching the top of the mountain? you can hear the voices change in the people hiking around you. your body pushed you a little more. the horizon calls and the gravel crunches and


suddenly


your legs step up and where your eyes were looking at the trail, your heart calls to look upward.



and as soon as I looked out,

as soon as I got to the top,


I wept.



look: 
I have climbed mountains in Guatemala and dipped my feet in glacial lakes in Colorado. 



but I had never seen something this. magnificent.


my whole soul was in humbled, reverent awe. it felt like I was shaking with majesty, staring over thousands and thousands of acres of pure, powerful nature. I couldn't hold it in.


I didn't want to. 


--


so on that day:

I cried on top of a red rock in front of a bunch of Asian tourists.

and it was beautiful.




what nature can teach us about who we are (if we slow down to her speed to listen) is invaluable.

I was taught about the forces that shape our lives by looking at the way the wind had shaped the faces of cliffs. I felt the warm stone beneath me, reminding me that I can take in the warmth of the sun. I can be warm and strong and me.

the rain doesn't ask the ground to be anything different than it is, just because it is raining. the ground doesn't wish the rain was different, either. they nourish each other. they soak each other in.

that is balance. that is learning.

--

I'm not sure how long we stayed up there. time wasn't relevant where I was.


 all I do know is, it is a sacred place to me now. somewhere my spirit is free and I feel truly at peace.




the hike down was fast and fun. I rubbed pine sap on elbows and started to feel the exhaustion of my time in Utah sink in to my muscles.


in my heart, I could hear the echoes of a favorite childhood song sing:

"I hear the wind across the plain, 

A sound so strong, that calls my name. 

It's wild like the river, it's warm like the sun... 

It's here, this is where I belong. "

and right then, on the way back from Zion National Park in the back of a Jeep,



I. was. free. 


--


here's to many, many more canyons and adventures and glorious, glorious views.

because that's what life is for, if I can think of any good reason for it.


good views.
great people.
golden light.

live boldly --

xx, g