all ablaze

Wednesday, October 18, 2006.

i've decided that for any successful road trip, all i really need is some form of caffeine, tunes, one other person whose face my eyes can catch from my periphery, and a mind that's stirring with curiosity, confusion, and a lust for the new, the extraordinary, the surprising.

in my opinion, the latter is necessary at all times in order to not get stuck in the monotonous, paralyzed in fear, blinded by falsities, etc. 

i once said that vienna owned the fall and nashville the spring; well, now montana captures summer.  one's skin comes alive at the top of one of glacier national park's mountain peaks, with its fresh breath pulling each hair and eye toward clouds and sun and hope.  i wrote a little while living amongst giants and blades of the most spoiled grass:

"This continues to be a popular theme throughout this summer…surprise.  Not only have unlikely people surprised me, but nature has paralyzed me in amazement more than once.  Perhaps this is the reason so many great authors, poets, artists, etc. retreat to nature for a muse, an inspiration.  If I were a poet I would try to write how the distant waterfalls gravitating alongside mountainsides remind me of veins in the body of the earth, or how climbing a mountain can be perfectly paralleled to a puzzle, or an 18-mile hike compared to a day's journey of Odysseus's epic hike.  But, alas, I'm no poet…just a small human in the midst of big mountains and skies and trees. 

If I stay awake long enough to see stars illuminated they usually shoot dust across the dark sky.  One night I lost count of the number of shooting stars.  I lost count.  Out of control, really.  The first day I woke up to these mountains back in the beginning of June, I prayed that I would never get used to being surprised by nature…that physical jubilation of awe.  And though I may be able to predict the surprise by now, I've yet to get used to it…my body still jolts, my eyes open just a bit wider, my ears become more attentive.  Extraordinary, surprise is..

I haven't gotten used to shadows.  The Montana sun enjoys casting dark reflections across the elements, and from a distant it makes a mountain's face look like a painting.  As if I took the edge of my charcoal and sketched a bit of shading.  Just like it.  My shadow has never looked so stunning as on the top of a mountain from 10,000 ft of elevation. 

Everything is illuminated in this place.  Details are not hidden but revealed with glorious attention…whether it be the sedimentary patterns in rocks or the 5 different colors of the Indian Paintbrush wildflower, my eyes have new focus.  And so this has happened whenever I have traveled to a new land of culture and geography and community…perspective and focus are unpredictably attuned to my new lenses. 

Through the geography of mountains and waterfalls, the culture of grizzly bears and native flowers, and the community of brothers and sisters with stories and backgrounds as varied and the wildlife, my perspective has revealed to me once again how infinite and mysterious are the laws of creation, how small I am in the midst of that infinity and mystery, and yet how strong the spiritual bond of (wo)man and nature/(wo)man and (wo)man/nature and nature can be."

and so with my curious, confused, lustful, hopeful mind, i said goodnight (that's for ddubs) to the place that captured a bit of my soul these past months. on to new adventures, never forgetting or minimalizing the ones already adventured...

fall and winter came early to montana...early september, in fact.  snow capped mountains and blinding yellow trees triggered my great drive through fallful america.  the aforementioned criteria for road trips is the essential core, but it always helps if the itinerary follows the changing trees from late september to the middle of october...it's almost as if i was holding this giant torch and as we traveled later into the season, farther south, my magic torch set all the autumn trees into a blaze of rainbow wisdom.  from "amaizing" montana through wyoming, from a ticket to ride colorado to southern utah. 

it's edward abbey's land, southern utah that is.  i came to realize that every edge of that area is one of the following: national park, national monument, national forest, or state park.  one or two slightly isolated towns are thrown in the midst of the sacred land...i explained to graham that bryce canyon used to be the sandbox of giants long ago.  their sand castles were so well known throughout the land that each spire and tower were honored by turning the sand to stone.  and now, even though the gentle giants have passed on, their award-winning sandcastles remain as one of utah's greatest treasures.  our homes for the nights were outside goblin state park (great name, goblin) and zion...one of the greatest feelings in the world is waking up inside a tent; one of the second greatest feelings in the world is arriving in the middle of nature in the middle of the night only to awake wide-eyed and giddy at the break of a new morning with a new perspective and a new memory: surprise of nature, once again.  we passed a cow whose face coloration looked as if it had been prepared for battle and chants by an indian's brown and white warpaint...coolest cow i've ever seen.  the narrows of zion only tempted us with their flash flood warnings, and so our filthy, weary selves hauled our asses to vegas.

oh, vegas.  from 75 miles away the nevada horizon was pitch black.  i asked graham if it look like there could be a fire of some kind in the distance...he stared for a second, and said that he thought that "fire" might just be vegas.  i was reaffirmed by road signs that vegas was still 70 miles away...no way that could be vegas.  that was vegas.  it's money, hope, despair, exhiliration, sleep-deprived energy bursts forth from the desert as some sort of vanity fair flashlight.  after 3 days and 2 nights, i was officially worn out and satisfied by the fair.

from vegas, the majority of the trip was located inside graham's white goblin (power of the camry) with that mind, those tunes, caffeine, hot tomales, bit-o-honey, etc.  the darkest night of my life was driving through death valley, tahoe's trees tried their damndest to reach the heavens, colorado gave us rain and a little snow, kansas and oklahoma were seen at night as they were meant to be seen, and the long journey across autumn america came to memphis.  elvis was welcoming as always, the zoo made me feel like i was 5 again when the only notable existing item on earth was the panda bear i saw every morning, and beale street made me feel a bit older with alcohol, music, and the warmth i get when i show something i care about to someone i care about.

i may have fallen in love with the west.  i may just go back in a month and a half to live in colorado for a season..a hopeful white christmas. 

new eyes...always open, trying their best to be always aware.