Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder. Or is it? HE couldn’t see.
I first saw him at the Hopi Point shuttle stop. His walking stick preceded his departure from the shuttle. He had a large smile, white socks rolled down to his brown shoes, and a British accent. My first reaction, aside from smiling at the socks, was to let him know how far away the step to the curb would be, and since his traveling companion followed him off the shuttle with the same large smile; I stood corrected.
Here we were at the Grand Canyon, in this world of automatic cell phone photos, instantaneous oohs and ahhs, and shouts of: “look at me”, with a blind man. Think about that for a minute. Of all the places to visit. Here? The Grand Canyon?
I got on the shuttle and watched him approach the ledge.
I, too, felt the mother gene fly out of my skin, but his eyes closed and he just stood there. Did he know something I didn’t? I kinda wondered if his friend was sharing his own description of what he saw; or maybe not. Maybe we missed something. I turned back as the shuttle pulled out, regretting I didn’t shadow him for a few minutes. He was smiling, but dang it…the Grand Canyon is about the view, right?
I don’t know, I guess today was a reminder to take that deep breath, and to fall into the moment with everything that surrounds it. Oh the views are magnificent, with bragging rights to a rainbow, there is no doubt about that, but I think there is always time to reconnect with that “think outside the box” thing again. Ya know…the wind speaks to us differently when blowing through the pinyon pines then it does through the poplar trees. I am also convinced the loud chatter of the Kaibab squirrels is meant to to taunt the Steller Jays, because their annoying shrieks clearly dictate their present mood. And if I really listen, the faraway clip clop means the mule horses are returning on Bright Angel Trail. The regimental beat is interrupted only by the commands of the wranglers. Hmmmm.
Grateful for the reminder that sometimes you have to close your eyes. And sometimes you have to…
By mid afternoon the smell of the rain from the previous day morphed into hot chocolate at Hermits Rest. A promise to warm the hands as well as the soul.
The Daily Post: Pause