Recently, I stood by the Colorado River in the Grand Canyon. As any topographic map will reveal, the river lies about a mile beneath the canyon rim, and the canyon stretches nearly 300 miles, at times reaching a width of 18 miles. At the bottom of the canyon, one can see sides either impossible for any inexperienced rock climber to climb or too steep to climb without great effort. The canyon walls dwarf any individual. It is truly a great hole. And it took a considerable time to make as rivers, mostly the Colorado, washed away trillions of tons of rock* over the past five or more million years. Although the front part of my brain knew that getting out of the the bottom of the canyon would be difficult, it wasn’t until I was standing in that great hole that I actually “felt” its depth, the steepness of its walls, the mercilessness of a white water river, and the great length of the chasm. Fortunately, for me, it was a matter of a pleasant helicopter ride both into and out of the Grand Canyon. In spite of the canyon’s beauty, I am not inclined toward living in a hole, regardless of its grandeur.
Is it a bit curious that we think of a big nothing, a place that was once solid rock but is now an emptiness, as “something” significant? Maybe not. We’re used to seeing human erosion as acquaintances, friends, and family members suffer from depression, economic problems, addiction, and chronic illness. Those “big holes” mostly occur little bit by little bit just as the Grand Canyon underwent grain-by-grain erosion. But, as we all know, sometimes both geologic and human erosion occur catastrophically: Rock falls and landslides in the canyon and broken relationships and financial losses in human affairs, for example.
Changes in circumstances, losses of any kind, and bad health and addiction can erode any psyche into a canyon. And like being in the Grand Canyon, those who are suffering see the only way out of their personal holes is by climbing towering steep canyon walls or riding a long and sometimes violent white-water river.
For those in the depths of personal canyons, there are usually no easy helicopter rides to the plateau above. What took a long time to dig isn’t easy to get out of; and even when there are mechanisms of extraction, the distance out is the same as the distance in. As we all seem to know either from personal experience or from what we’ve read or studied, getting out of our human canyons requires effort. Each person is like John Wesley Powell, the famous explorer of the Grand Canyon because every human chasm is, for that person, a new experience with the unknown. Powell provides a model for anyone who enters a human canyon. Having lost an arm during the Civil War, he explored the canyon in wooden boats. He made the journey into and out of the canyon in spite of his handicap and the rather crude materials available in the nineteenth century. We might say to ourselves, “If Powell could do it with one arm, then I can.”
Apparently and regardless of hardships, humans have the capacity to enter seemingly inextricable places and with effort extricate themselves. Remember that when you find yourself in a canyon of your or some accidental making. Just like the Grand Canyon, there is a way out.
*Grand Canyon: Length 277 river miles (446 km); cubic yards removed: 5.45 trillion (4.17 trillion cubic meters); average gradient of Colorado River, 7 feet per mile (1.3 m per km), obviously, in some sections greater and in other sections less.
Is it a bit curious that we think of a big nothing, a place that was once solid rock but is now an emptiness, as “something” significant? Maybe not. We’re used to seeing human erosion as acquaintances, friends, and family members suffer from depression, economic problems, addiction, and chronic illness. Those “big holes” mostly occur little bit by little bit just as the Grand Canyon underwent grain-by-grain erosion. But, as we all know, sometimes both geologic and human erosion occur catastrophically: Rock falls and landslides in the canyon and broken relationships and financial losses in human affairs, for example.
Changes in circumstances, losses of any kind, and bad health and addiction can erode any psyche into a canyon. And like being in the Grand Canyon, those who are suffering see the only way out of their personal holes is by climbing towering steep canyon walls or riding a long and sometimes violent white-water river.
For those in the depths of personal canyons, there are usually no easy helicopter rides to the plateau above. What took a long time to dig isn’t easy to get out of; and even when there are mechanisms of extraction, the distance out is the same as the distance in. As we all seem to know either from personal experience or from what we’ve read or studied, getting out of our human canyons requires effort. Each person is like John Wesley Powell, the famous explorer of the Grand Canyon because every human chasm is, for that person, a new experience with the unknown. Powell provides a model for anyone who enters a human canyon. Having lost an arm during the Civil War, he explored the canyon in wooden boats. He made the journey into and out of the canyon in spite of his handicap and the rather crude materials available in the nineteenth century. We might say to ourselves, “If Powell could do it with one arm, then I can.”
Apparently and regardless of hardships, humans have the capacity to enter seemingly inextricable places and with effort extricate themselves. Remember that when you find yourself in a canyon of your or some accidental making. Just like the Grand Canyon, there is a way out.
*Grand Canyon: Length 277 river miles (446 km); cubic yards removed: 5.45 trillion (4.17 trillion cubic meters); average gradient of Colorado River, 7 feet per mile (1.3 m per km), obviously, in some sections greater and in other sections less.
RSS Feed