Total Mileage: 7,688
Song of the Day: “48 Hour Drive” (Baltic Fleet)
People told me that the Grand Canyon would be a spiritual experience-- that it was a place where God speaks through the majesty of nature and where the wisdom of the ages reverberates through the very stones. Well, I guess I picked up on some of that. As I said in my previous post, I wasn’t totally sure about the Grand Canyon, and when I first got there, I was afraid that my suspicions had been confirmed: it was mobbed. This was the standard array of tourists, a set of species with which I’m quite familiar at this point:
Fighting middle aged couples taking it out on the kids.
Grandparents explaining to children how they’re “just too young to appreciate it.”
Less than mature teenagers pretending to push each other over the edge.
Inconsiderate sightseers walking into each other’s photos and then getting mad.
European tourists who couldn’t read --or just chose to ignore-- the “no smoking” signs.
That creepy long-haired guy with the impractically bulky coat and video camera.
It looked like Hell as run by Rand McNally and Kodak. Sure, the view was pretty, but after weaving around the crowd at Mather Point (the panoramic promontory immediately beyond the visitors’ center), I seriously entertained the notion of just getting in my car and heading back to Flagstaff. I feel like nature is often ruined by the number of people observing it, and the Grand Canyon was cementing that view. I hate it when a beautiful site gets spoiled by a few hundred people all clicking their cameras and yelling, “Hey, honey! Come check out this big freakin’ hole!” After just a few minutes of this, I felt like I had paid my dues and snapped my pictures, so I was allowed to leave.
I started heading back to my car and decided to use the timer on my camera to grab a few pictures of myself (primarily so that Erin and I would have something to laugh at later-- sharing slightly goofy pictures has been a fun way to make the distance a little more tolerable, and it gives me a reason to play with the timer on my camera other than sheer narcissism). As I posed for a few pictures with an intentionally unimpressed expression, I looked out along the canyon rim and realized, “Hey, that big cliff over there has fewer people on it. I wonder if I can get there from here.” Sure enough, a nice paved path runs pretty far along the rim of the canyon, so I stowed my camera safely in my cargo pocket and started walking. The second I passed by the parking lots (yes, plural), the number of tourists plummeted. Sure, there were still plenty of people walking along the path and stopping for pictures, but these were the slightly more adventurous folks-- the people who came to experience more than just what the visitors’ center had advertised. These people were friendlier and seemed to be enjoying the nature around them rather than just figuring out the best angle for a photo while trying to keep the kids in line. It still wasn’t exactly pristine, unspoiled nature, but it was better than Mather Point. I pulled out my camera . . .
People told me that God would speak at the Grand Canyon-- that it would be a spiritual experience. Sure, the rocks were pretty, and the distant rain and lightning were really awesome to behold, but what sticks with me most was the ton of people there. Not to go all pretentious and name-droppy, but I thought about Dante Alighieri, the poet behind the Divine Comedy. One of the things that always moved me about Dante was his ability to look into the face of his beloved (Beatrice Portinari) and see God there. Meeting her for the first time was a religious experience to him. If we as humans are bearers of the image of God, then I like to think that we can look at each other and get a glimpse of God’s majesty. Admittedly, when I look at tourists, I feel a little frustration, but then again, who hasn’t occasionally gotten a frustrating message from God? The world is a messy place full of messy people, but there’s still something so oddly holy about all of it.
You know, the Grand Canyon really is a spectacular sight so long as you don’t mind putting up with a few tourists. Of course, I can only imagine how it must have felt to the earliest Americans who settled there or to the European explorers traveling across the continent who would see it for the first time centuries later. At the sight of such majestic and unspoiled beauty, with the glory of God seeming to radiate from every cliff face and boulder, I can only imagine the first thing they must have said:“Hey, Francisco! Come check out this big freakin’ hole!”
Next stop: probably somewhere in New Mexico
Days until I get back to Memphis: 24ish
Days until Erin gets to Memphis: 29
Days until Harryson and Madison get to Memphis: 32
Days until Ordination Service: 35
Counting down . . .
Peace and Blessings,
Tom
No comments:
Post a Comment