It is easy to get overly-sentimental about nature. When exposed to an environment whose present appearance can only be understood on a geological timeframe and its ability to carry on its day to day activities is completely unreliant on the superfluous flounderings of humans, sentimentality and humility are natural responses. In contrast, the majority of my life I am surrounded by the products of human assembly lines. These items, that were made within a few minutes and will break, wear-out, or will otherwise lose interest to me within the coming years are nothing that conjures feelings of awe or inspire me. As a person taught to seek these products and to fill my life with them, I know how easy it can be to prioritize products, to fill my life with them so I can have the fleeting sense of accomplishment that comes from acquiring stuff. I would have perhaps gone on for all my days thinking this was a good approach to life, had it not been for a late afternoon that I climbed to the top of Comb Ridge and looked out on hundreds of miles of wilderness, 800 feet below. Within the silence and awe of that moment, I became profoundly aware of my insignificance and ignorance.
Since that day, I have been seeking to feel that sense of insignificance as often as I can and overcome my great ignorance about how to live this short existence. Far from making me feel worthless, recognizing my insiginificance and ignorace helps me to re-center my life on what is really important. To focus on experiences, not things. This blog, inspired by those who know me and this landscape best, will be primarily focused on reporting back on this journey.
I will try to keep the tendency toward sentimentality to a minimum.
Sunset on top of Comb Ridge.
