It’s hard to comprehend all the hate in the world sometimes. We all watch the same sun rise and fall each day. We all feel pain and grief when friends and family leave this life. We can all feel the peace and solitude of a lonely lake shore, or the cool breeze on a quiet evening.
As I write these words, I know that I’m wrong, and maybe that’s the problem.
Kennecott, Salt Lake City- Nothing says "human" like digging a huge hole in the ground. Some people might look at this and say "disgusting", while other's might look at this and say "beautiful". I think it's interesting that something so disgusting can be so beautiful. The scale of the Kennecott Copper mine is hard to grasp, but for reference the tires on the haul trucks you can see roaming around are about 13 feet tall.
Walking beside the wall that guards the old city of Xi’an, one notices a certain rhythm. Leaves litter the ground in anticipation for the cooler temperatures of fall. Coats and jackets are pulled from the closet. Young children scramble by, oblivious to their surroundings. The elderly, however, are veterans of the changing seasons. Years pass by unannounced. Fleeting moments turn to distant memories, and the cycle continues.
Breathe in, breathe out.
Washington - Heaven and earth pass before us, arcing out across the skies, and yet we are transfixed on what is out of reach. The inconsequential buries us beneath a mound of insecurities, consuming our lives but we rearrange our priorities to accommodate. For what? Is it isolation that we seek? Is it solitude?
When we wake do we dream of the eternal, or do our dreams waste away in a sea of likes and comments? Our infinite wasted, our potential squandered. We float through space, among the stars and galaxies, selfishly consuming the vast quantity of garbage that inhabits the void, but the world rotates and we continue our journey on an unknown path.
The path leads us into the woods, walking through the trees, feeling the mist of water against our skin, the thundering sound reverberates deep within us. hope illuminates the horizon, trees silhouette against the mountains. The earth exhales and we feel it's warmth. It speaks and we listen. If only we listen.
Idaho- Farmlife. Every spring gives rise to new crops, new livestock, new trials. Under the watchful eye of the farmer, the cycle is never ending. However, as hard times wash over the land and the light fades in his soul, the farm falls into disarray. Bills pile up high on the kitchen table. Phone calls from collectors go unanswered. What was once a fruitful farm is now a monument to the past. As the farmer drives away, looking back one last time, tears escape his eyes and fall to the ground. Ground that he shaped with his bare hands. Ground that created so much life.
Like a river, time carries us through life. Weaving in and out of currents, crossing paths with others only to be separated just as quickly. Every rock changes our course and every waterfall sends us spinning out of control. Past and present mix, while the future is always around the next corner, waiting for us.
I'm standing outside, peering through windows to the past. A breeze blows the dead grass around me. Insects and birds chirp from the fields, buzzing about, fluttering overhead. I step inside. Pink wallpaper peels down the walls as the smell of earth and decay rises up. Forgotten memories of footsteps race down the hallway. The inhabitants have long since vanished, but their past remains. As I walk down the hall, Their memories float around me like leaves on the wind, echoing a life lived and lost. The the only audible sound is the creaking of the floorboards under my weight.
I glance out the window to the back. A windmill stands erect, rusted, motionless. Equipment that used to till the land lay scattered about in the weeds. What was once a beloved farm, is now forgotten. Garbage. A blight on the land. With each cautious step I feel connected and for a brief moment, my heart fills with sadness for those whose lives had been upended.
Driving away, I can't help but anxiously think about the path that I have chosen in life, who I might run in to, and where it might take me.