The Canyon

Leaving the ranger center, you enter a winding path that engulfs you in large ponderosa pines and lush green undergrowth. The forest quickly engrosses you with the aromas of the pines, the crackling of twigs and pine needles underfoot and the sounds of tiny creatures scurrying through the underbrush off the trail. An occasional mule deer raises its head and stares at you inquisitively as you pass, quickly making you forget those last vestiges of civilization as you trod the half mile through this high altitude forest toward the canyon.
The half mile hike is pleasant and not at all strenuous. Walking slowly, absorbing the sights and sounds around you, it is easy to let your imagination drift back in time, perhaps a thousand years, when native people such as the Havasupai, inhabited the area. The land was sacred to the native indigenous people. The people were of the land. The land gave to the people what they needed and they in turn cared for the land.
The trail winds on through the trees and you become oblivious to all but nature surrounding you. Nature is subdued here in the forest. The quietude calms you as each of your steps brings you closer to your destination. Abruptly, the forest ends and you emerge on a sweeping vista so grand that it immediately overwhelms your senses and emotions.
The canyon’s south rim, within feet of you as you leave the forest, precipitously drops as much as a mile to the canyon floor. There, the Colorado River, winds its way through the gorge it carved out over millions of years for approximately 277 miles and is the lifeblood of the canyon. Your gaze across the chasm can take in as much as 18 miles distance to the north rim. The canyon walls are a testament to the living history of the earth. Each layer of coloring in the walls describes an era of time during the earth’s evolution to modern times.
Standing on the edge of the canyon rim, the great Colorado River appears to be just a small stream so far below. The vastness is so overwhelming that it is with great difficulty to be able to describe the immense grandeur of the Grand Canyon. As you peer down into this great chasm carved out over the millennia, you must realize you are also peering back in time. The earth has shaped and reshaped itself over these millions of years as the canyon is a living testament to. What imaginable creatures once roamed a flat plain here when the river was just a trickle? What ancient people lived along the river and the canyon? We as modern humans have been granted the privilege to enjoy this natural wonder and to be the modern stewards and caretakers.

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“The Best of All Possible Worlds”

My apologies to Gottfried Liebniz and possbily to Voltaire as well. Yes, we do live in ‘the best of all possible worlds’. I say this because I believe that no matter how bad it seems at any given moment, it can be worse. Every day in life is a struggle. We work, we play, we try to make our world a better place.

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Do we really communicate with each other?

I don’t do Facebook. I have never had an account. I do not plan to open an account. I have lived all over the world and developed friends in each place. No, I do not keep in touch with all of them today. Some yes. Particularly the ones I became very close to. But these friends were flesh and blood. They breath, speak, laugh and cry. Bits and bytes on a computer screen does not give you a personal relationship. If our lives have become too busy that we cannot share them with a simple phone call or a letter from time to time we become less human. I do not need to know about every single waking moment of my friends lives. I pick up the phone and call. I can hear them laugh if they are happy, cry if they are sad. We can catch up on the important things in our lives. And I do not have to deal with advertisements. I do not have to deal with some corporation having access to personal information. I do not worry about private conversations not really being private.

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Hello World

The WordPress introductory blog title seems appropriate as I am a new blogger. I now join all of the other voices clamoring to be heard above the din of life. Whether my voice is relevant and can be heard remains to be seen. In the meantime I leave you with a poem by American novelist, poet and journalist Stephen Crane, to ponder.

A man said to the Universe: “Sir I  exist!”,

“However”, replied the Universe, “the fact has not created in me a sense of obligation”.

Stephen Crane, 1899

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