October 6, 2006

We arrived at the Canyon this past Sunday, and our time here has been spectacular so far.  We were fortunate enough to find a very nice spot for our motorhome in Trailer Village, a spot that seems to be preferred by deer, elk, and coyotes.  We've had pretty close contact with all three, quite constantly.  We've walked through families of elk, we've had daytime visits from very large bull elks, we've had a nighttime visit from seven mule deer bucks, all but one of which had pretty impressive antlers.  We've had some beautiful walks through the Ponderosa pines and the Utah junipers.  All in all, there are a great many things in this park that are simply amazing to experience.  The bugling of the bull elk in the early morning or evening can send chills up and down your spine.  The howling of the coyote can send your imagination flying to different worlds and different times.  The beauty and grace of the deer can make you realize just how beautiful the creatures of this planet are.

When tourists come, they usually spend about four hours here, never really leaving the rim of the Canyon except to enter a store or restaurant or to go back to their cars, buses, or train.  To most, the entire experience of the Grand Canyon has to do with the huge hole in the ground.  And while that hole in the ground is so beautiful that it can bring tears to your eyes, there's much more to the park than erosion, and I feel honored to be able to experience it all.

These aspens are just north of Flagstaff,
on the way to the Canyon.

But it also gets me thinking about our tendency to focus on the most obvious things of all, and neglecting many other things that may be more than worth our while to explore.  Why do we tend to focus on the surface of things without going any deeper into something that may deserve for us to look at more closely?

In other words, do I merely see that a particular person is somewhat loud and annoying, without finding out anything more about him or her?  Do I see just the ability to be a plumber without recognizing a person's deeper beauty and other gifts?  Do I see a student as just something that's supposed to do homework and turn in assignments?  Do I view a mother as just a parent, without keeping in mind the larger picture, the many things that exist in her other than her parenthood?

If I see just the Canyon, I miss a great deal of the rest of the park.  If I go to San Diego and see just the zoo, I'm missing most of what San Diego is.  If I know a person and see just their function or title or job or a particularly strong personality trait, then I'm doing that person--and myself--a great disservice.

I want to know much more about this place than the fact that there's a pretty big hole in the ground.  Likewise, I want to know more about my co-workers than their names and job responsibilities.  We're all human beings, and it's important for us to share our humanity.  Of course, some won't want to share who they are or how they feel, and that has to be fine--in that I have to accept and respect their wishes.  But if I look at a person for a short time and see just the Canyon--just the most remarkable aspect of who they are as human beings--then I'm losing out on a big part of life.

I've been here less than a week, and already the Canyon is teaching me.  I hope that I can recognize more of the lessons that it has for me to learn.

This bull elk made my car look very small. . . .

October 15, 2006

It's fascinating to work in the hotel here and have steady contact with people who have been exposed to the Canyon.  Many people have been here before, and they make a point of coming to the Canyon regularly.  Many people are here for the first time, and they're almost overwhelmed by the beauty and grandeur of the place.  Many are here for the first time, and they're more upset that they can't stay in a hotel here than they are appreciative of the sights to see, even though they didn't bother to make reservations before coming.

Just as with everything else in life, I believe, the Canyon experience is what people make of it.  Some people come here with every intention of enjoying themselves and immersing themselves in the atmosphere, and they seem to have a wonderful time.  Others come here without leaving behind their everyday lives and problems, and they're never able to appreciate the experience fully because they're never able to focus on it clearly.  Most people--perhaps 90% of the almost five million who visit each year--spend more time in the gift shops and restaurants than they do with the Canyon and all that it has to offer.

One man asked if we have Internet access, and he was surprised when we told him we didn't.  His wife smiled and said "good."  She knew that she had a better chance of him being fully with her if he weren't trying to take care of business online for the two days they were going to stay.

I am absolutely amazed at the number of people that I see walking around the Canyon with glum, unhappy faces.  There's something amazing almost everywhere you turn here, but that doesn't seem to matter to everyone.  Most people seem to be carrying their everyday baggage with them no matter where they happen to be.

Of course, I realize that I'm not one to point any fingers or criticize others.  I've done plenty of the same thing in my life, and I'd love to have back some of the time that I wasted in places like Barcelona, Italy, Germany, and other beautiful spots in the world.

But now my goal is to learn from these people, to try to see what's making them unhappy in such an amazing place so that I can avoid some of the pitfalls that they're running into.  I now live in one of the most beautiful and spectacular places on the planet, and I want to make the most of it.  I want to see the Canyon, I want to feel it, and I want to experience it in such a way that it becomes a part of me.  I can do that only if I focus on the Canyon itself, and devote much time, energy, and attention to it.  It's not going to reach out and offer itself to me.  The Canyon doesn't care.  If I get a lot from it, the Canyon doesn't care.  Nor does it care if I get nothing out of it and have a miserable existence while I'm here.  The Canyon is truly objective, in a way that people can't be.

But I care, and I want to make this a rich part of my life.  So I look to others to see who's happy and what they're doing to be happy, and who's unhappy and what they're doing to make themselves unhappy, and I try to learn from them.  There's lots to learn in this world, and there's lots to experience almost everywhere.  We do have to choose to be open to it, though, and to be willing to give our attention if we want to learn anything at all.

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Storms can work some true magic on the Canyon.

   

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