Hello Everyone! Apologies for the long absence .... I've been working on getting my head screwed on straight, so to speak. Still working through it, so I thought I'd begin back with a journal writing from the past few months .... more to follow!
The Hole
Arizona has fascinating landscape qualities. Where, in North Carolina, there are mountains with trees and forests and fauna of a myriad of colors surrounded by shades of green of every hue, in Arizona there's dark red deserts peppered with random scraggly but strangely beautiful shubbery and cacti and large rock formations in shades of adobe and gray that don't seem to be joined together in any formal pattern, but simply appear throughout the aforementioned landscape as far as the eye can see. We went to "climb" one of those rock formations called "The Hole".
The Hole is about as wide as a pair of houses, and as tall as a castle, with scattered, cavelike indentations and one single oblong opening at the top that tunnels from front to back. As the whole thing is located on a bit of a hill, one can see all the way from Tempe to Phoenix when standing on top of it. What struck me most was not the view, though it was quite beautiful. The trail itself is what got me pondering ....
Everyone in our group began the journey to the top via a basic trail through the sea of red sandy dirt and pebbles circling the base, then up a rock stairway which was obviously man-made, but designed to at least pretend to blend into its surroundings. Once at the top, one could go straight across through "the hole" to view the sights, or to the far left to climb around, or continue trail options to the right, which eventually would lead back around the face and down again to the starting point. At first we all went straight through to stand in "the hole" on the front face of the rock. To ooh and ahh and marvel and take photographs with about 20 other random strangers from all walks of life that happened to be there that day too. Everyone split off in their chosen direction after that. Some simply followed the wide path back down and around the formation. A few circled it back up, as before, then followed it down with mild variations again. One scaled the face to the very top and found climbing footholds to descend to the trail below. I chose to take every alternative the trail down offered. This took me back up and over the side of the formation, through a lovely yet partially hidden tunnel in the rock, scale back up a quarter of the face, then journey back down to the path's intended end via gulley-like openings. Eventually, we all made it back down to the beginning, no matter which path we chose. None of them were particularly gruelling or difficult, not compared to other trails I've hiked in North Carolina anyway, but the point is that we all made it back to our appointed location in our own way.
I guess life is a little bit like that rock trail. We all begin life in essentially the same way, on the same initial path. We all take those societally-created stairs to the initial stopping point and take a moment, no matter how brief, to survey our surroundings. Then we decide, we choose, we join forces with others, we follow, or we simply wander aimlessly until it's time to make our way back to the starting point. Some go the wide trail direct route, some go back the route they know from the way they came. Some choose the treacherous climb up and over, some take that wide trail but circle it back again to reexperience. Myself, I chose to wander through every available alternative trail of ups and downs, rocks and tunnels, scaggly bushes, odd trail formations that may not have actually been trails at all, mildly sloped climbs and dried out gulleys, to eventually reach that same spot with everyone else, but on my own in a roundabout fashion. What do these path choices say about how we make decisions? Life choices? Confront issues? Find happiness or solace? Could my choice of solitary wandering trails on that rock be indicative of my life and how I've lived it to this point? The more random and slightly difficult path did introduce me to images of natural beauty that I could have missed had I chosen the wide direct trails, affirmation of a level of strength and balance via climbing up and down unmarked areas, and most importantly, the fact that no matter what crazy random direction I advertently or inadvertently took, there is always some way for one to find the way back down to where you're supposed to be. Just goes to show, there's no one right way, no one path for everyone.
~ The Girl In The Little Black Dress
The Hole
Arizona has fascinating landscape qualities. Where, in North Carolina, there are mountains with trees and forests and fauna of a myriad of colors surrounded by shades of green of every hue, in Arizona there's dark red deserts peppered with random scraggly but strangely beautiful shubbery and cacti and large rock formations in shades of adobe and gray that don't seem to be joined together in any formal pattern, but simply appear throughout the aforementioned landscape as far as the eye can see. We went to "climb" one of those rock formations called "The Hole".
The Hole is about as wide as a pair of houses, and as tall as a castle, with scattered, cavelike indentations and one single oblong opening at the top that tunnels from front to back. As the whole thing is located on a bit of a hill, one can see all the way from Tempe to Phoenix when standing on top of it. What struck me most was not the view, though it was quite beautiful. The trail itself is what got me pondering ....
Everyone in our group began the journey to the top via a basic trail through the sea of red sandy dirt and pebbles circling the base, then up a rock stairway which was obviously man-made, but designed to at least pretend to blend into its surroundings. Once at the top, one could go straight across through "the hole" to view the sights, or to the far left to climb around, or continue trail options to the right, which eventually would lead back around the face and down again to the starting point. At first we all went straight through to stand in "the hole" on the front face of the rock. To ooh and ahh and marvel and take photographs with about 20 other random strangers from all walks of life that happened to be there that day too. Everyone split off in their chosen direction after that. Some simply followed the wide path back down and around the formation. A few circled it back up, as before, then followed it down with mild variations again. One scaled the face to the very top and found climbing footholds to descend to the trail below. I chose to take every alternative the trail down offered. This took me back up and over the side of the formation, through a lovely yet partially hidden tunnel in the rock, scale back up a quarter of the face, then journey back down to the path's intended end via gulley-like openings. Eventually, we all made it back down to the beginning, no matter which path we chose. None of them were particularly gruelling or difficult, not compared to other trails I've hiked in North Carolina anyway, but the point is that we all made it back to our appointed location in our own way.
I guess life is a little bit like that rock trail. We all begin life in essentially the same way, on the same initial path. We all take those societally-created stairs to the initial stopping point and take a moment, no matter how brief, to survey our surroundings. Then we decide, we choose, we join forces with others, we follow, or we simply wander aimlessly until it's time to make our way back to the starting point. Some go the wide trail direct route, some go back the route they know from the way they came. Some choose the treacherous climb up and over, some take that wide trail but circle it back again to reexperience. Myself, I chose to wander through every available alternative trail of ups and downs, rocks and tunnels, scaggly bushes, odd trail formations that may not have actually been trails at all, mildly sloped climbs and dried out gulleys, to eventually reach that same spot with everyone else, but on my own in a roundabout fashion. What do these path choices say about how we make decisions? Life choices? Confront issues? Find happiness or solace? Could my choice of solitary wandering trails on that rock be indicative of my life and how I've lived it to this point? The more random and slightly difficult path did introduce me to images of natural beauty that I could have missed had I chosen the wide direct trails, affirmation of a level of strength and balance via climbing up and down unmarked areas, and most importantly, the fact that no matter what crazy random direction I advertently or inadvertently took, there is always some way for one to find the way back down to where you're supposed to be. Just goes to show, there's no one right way, no one path for everyone.
~ The Girl In The Little Black Dress
