I can't divine meaning from digitally created photos of the places I visit, but I like to take and keep them. Truth comes to me while I am there, in canyon, in person, fully alive...

Canal sits in the middle of Utah. Far from any major population center, it is ignored most of the time. Even so, the canyon seems “okay” with where it lives. It is not national park, it is not national monument. It's not advertised. However, wandering the canyon alone, I sensed no animosity concerning its isolation from people. I am happy to be isolated and ignored in Central Utah as well.

The canyon IS and that's enough, it's not trying to be anything more, and it CANNOT be anything less. I AM, for now, anything beyond that, for me, is HOPE. I got the sense that the canyon doesn't worry, at all, as I walked through snow and mud.



As always, my thoughts paraphrase Edward Abbey:

“Under the desert sun, in the dogmatic clarity, the fables of theology and the myths of classical philosophy dissolve like mist. The air is clean, the rock cuts cruelly into flesh; shatter the rock and the odor of flint rises to your nostrils, bitter and sharp. Whirlwinds dance across the salt flats, a pillar of dust by day; the thornbush breaks into flame at night. What does it mean? It means nothing. It is as it is and has no need for meaning. The desert lies beneath and soars beyond any possible human qualification. Therefore, sublime.”