Small. That's how I felt. Small in the best of all possible ways.
I am small. The land is big. And that's exactly how it should be. My footprints on this earth should be gentle and respectful. They should honor the power of wind, water, fire to shape our world. Humans spend an enormous amount of energy developing, crafting, manipulating this place we call our own, yet no building I've seen, no amazing work of art comes close to the powerful beauty of dirt and rock shaped over millennia by elements so much bigger than me.
Two weeks ago, standing on the south edge of the Grand Canyon, soaking in what I had only ever seen in pictures, I watched as the sun spent its final two hours of the day slowly sinking behind the red rock, and was bathed in peace. For about an hour, I just looked. And smiled.
I didn't try to make big meaning. It was when we started to walk the rim, for views at slightly different angles, that the word small popped into my head. It was more than a word, it was an understanding.
I am small. The land is big. And that's exactly how it should be. My footprints on this earth should be gentle and respectful. They should honor the power of wind, water, fire to shape our world. Humans spend an enormous amount of energy developing, crafting, manipulating this place we call our own, yet no building I've seen, no amazing work of art comes close to the powerful beauty of dirt and rock shaped over millennia by elements so much bigger than me.
It is easy, living in cities, and traveling from place to place by jet, to lose track of how large these united states really are. I am grateful to have been reminded. City living is wonderful and I will probably always set up home within easy walking, biking, or driving distance of a local tea shop to meet friends, the public library to grab a mystery novel, or a hardware store for the implements of weekend projects. But to know I am one small piece of something so huge is a beautiful relieving of pressure.
Things - my house, my car, my possessions - do not have to be perfect. Nothing in that list will last as long as canyons, mountains, rivers, forests, jungles. It is a list of tools to be safe, to maintain a livelihood, to enjoy, but they should not create such busy-ness or pressure to have more of them that I forget who I am.
I am one person. My sons are two more people. My friends and family are a few others. We are stewards of this land. We're not in charge. The land should shape us, not the other way around.
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