SOUTH KAIBAB TRAIL

With each step, I am closer to the river, farther from the rim. The drumbeat of my feet marking my progress, my heartbeat not yet matching my pace. In their own way, each marking my progress through time.

I’ve been here before, I’ve done this before, the rhythm is steady. The rising sun reveals diminishing images on the rim, a few of the millions who will never know. Enjoying my solitude, I am grateful for their ignorance. Layers of the Grand Canyon slowly rise above me, each layer representing the passage of time, each layer part of the life of this Canyon. My gait is brisk, one foot a fraction of a second behind the other, yet thousands of years separate the clouds of dust generated by their impact.

Time is all around me in various shades, various depths, adding color to the mosaic. It is a complex mixture, a mixture of color, rock, wind, water, vegetation and time. It is in me; moving me relentlessly towards my ultimate destination. It is draining from my being. The loss is constant, I can feel it in my joints, my muscles, it blurs my unaided vision, I do not know how much I have. It is the not knowing, that makes the gift generous. Competing interests make the allocation compassionate.

From my perspective the Canyon is limitless. Time adds to its life. I contrast the finite with the infinite. Time pumps through my veins, each beat of my heart one squeeze closer to the last. Ultimately, my limited resource, my most precious commodity will run dry. My Canyon will add layers, it will add color, it will live on. Long after blood ceases to feed my extremities, the Colorado will feed this chasm.

Mike Bennett