Lessons the Color of Dust and Rain

How do I explain why we are here? From day one the Canyon seemed expansive. Expansive and rude and entirely too uninviting to really belong to those principles with any intent other than throwing us off his scent. In the morning the sun rolls across lungs such a deep shade of blue you would think he hadn’t taken a breath all night long. The yellow hues that smudge around those deepened edges make you believe that hope is the color of the clouds found halfway between 5 and 6 AM. I hope you always wake up for that canvas without the help of an alarm.

When I saw him, I knew that God is real, she said. She said with glistening eyes and a voice dripping with the knowledge of what it is like to feel as empty and dry as this Canyon. This Canyon will save so many, so many, so many who walk around like they carry their own tombstones strapped to their backs. There is freedom in closed eyes and gusts of wind and just too close to the edge and choosing only to look forward instead of down. You’ve got a whole lot of forward coming at you and I guarantee it will knock you flat off your feet onto the softest rock you’ve ever felt in your life. It’s okay if you want to lie there, sleeping, forever.

Have you ever been so alone your own voice startled you? Have you ever heard your questions echo off walls of limestone, coming back to you two shades lighter than you expected, and that’s how you knew that this is the place you leave your molting shell behind? Come out from that cave you’ve been hiding in, your skin needn’t be so tough anymore. You’ve got hieroglyphic sonnets written behind your eyes just waiting to be read.

Wear that dust like Cleopatra wore her mascara, boast your wild mane like the Trembling Giant boasts it’s branches, keep your boots loose enough for your toes to wiggle, and know that the eyes of the Colorado River weep 18,700 cubic meters of feeling per second. You are not weak for leaving tracks of salt down your beautiful, sun-worn face. God made cacti and rattlesnakes with just as much pride as He made tulips and butterflies, some are meant to be threatening before they are loved, you are loved even when you are not whole.

It’s an uphill battle.

It’s an uphill walk.

It’s an uphill dance.

Every time you ascend his folds of rocky soul remember that you are defying the boundaries of physics they trapped you in when they coined the word “gravity”. The only gravity worth listening to is the pull of one human hand to another. Let love be love, let love be your Shoshone sunset, let love be the water spigot after that 7-mile desert stretch. The deeper you go the better it gets.

Don’t be afraid to be the sandstorm that rages against the niceties of commercialized happiness. If you’re going to be alive, you might as well be rim-to-rim alive. You might as well be call-NPS-if-I’m-not-back-in-two-days alive. You might as well be watercolors and guitar strings and stolen breakfasts and inside jokes alive. Doubt is not the end of the trail, it is just a compass and a cairn and a moment of panic and proving that you know how to navigate the rockslides of this life.

You are you; complicated violet beautiful you. And this Canyon is a stray bullet. Be you even when he pierces you through and through. Be you even when he strikes you right through the heart. Only in total abandon will you find that peace you are looking for. I think it looks a lot like an afternoon storm. We always sleep better when it’s raining, don’t we?

 

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