“A weird, lovely, fantastic object out of nature like Delicate Arch has a curious ability to remind us – like rock and sunlight and wind in wilderness – that out there is a different world, older and greater and deeper by far than ours, a world which surrounds and sustains the little world of men as sea and sky surround and sustain a ship. The shock of the real. For a little while we are again able to see, as the child sees, a world of marvels. For a few moments, we discover that nothing can be taken for granted, for if this ring of stone is marvelous then all which shaped it is marvelous, and our journey here on earth, able to see and touch and hear in the midst of tangible mysterious things-in-themselves, is the most strange and daring of all adventures.”
From “Desert Solitaire,” by Edward Abbey.
I had in mind a brilliant essay, inspired by Abbey’s passionate and eloquent meditations on solitude, the southwest desert in general, Arches National Park and the pre-dam Glen Canyon in particular, exploring where a man in a wheelchair fits into the natural world. But as so often happens between then and now, those words have wandered away. In lieu of my lost words, I’ll simply leave this passage and highly recommend the book from whence I borrowed it. Perhaps my words will reorganize themselves and find their way onto the page. You’ll be the first to know.