This is extracted from the original piece called "Traveling is innerwork"
Traveling is innerwork. In a sense, you have to jump into
the void. You donít know what you might encounter. Itís an adventure of
self-reliance and faith. An adventure for the soul. Sometimes you find horror,
other times wonder, a fresh look, renewal. Paradigms for digestion.†
We deviated from our travel schedule one afternoon in Flagstaff by driving to the Grand
Canyon for sunset. Only 45 minutes away. Perfect.
The setting sun seemed to melt tension; the golden light on
the flat scrubland was a tonic. Destination on the horizon, two scouts looking
west, conversation light. We pulled into the park just at sunset. A snowless
winterís eve, heading for the east rim, the closest side to us.We parked and quickly
sped to the canyon rim. As I neared the edge, I was struck suddenly by a force,
an emotion that overwhelmed me. Unprepared, I fell to my knees. My eyes flooded
and I began to cry, dumbstruck by the beauty, the magnificence, the
majesty.† Purple, blue, red, orange
striations of age and depth. I was so humbled and yet ennobled that I could
feel so deeply, be so humble in front of this divine canyon, this Grand Canyon.
There was a presence. Silent, womb-like, holding the wisdom of the age.
Numinous, she was there in front of me.
Overcome, mute, trembling and emptied, I bowed my head and