It’s early morning. Thursday. In Utah’s San Rafael Swell. Which is to say, beautiful and rugged slot canyons. And desert. And dust. And wind that flapped our tents quite vigorously in the night. But is now calm. Ah, sunrise and morning calm.
Eleven of us men have started our Unplugged Adventure. Guided by Marshall and Lucas — they are good, rugged, kind, learning-filled men. We’ve had our opening circle around a fire the night before. Each of us has burned something, an offering. Something we each wish to release. Or claim. Mine was a paper bag with close to a hundred names in it, and circumstances, and memories — I’m trying to learn about slow & steady and these people and memories have connection to that.
I’m up early, wandering a bit outside of our camp. I love the early morning light and it’s quiet. I take to balancing a few stones (shout out to my buddy Chris). I love the art of it. I love the fine-tuning of it. Sometimes it doesn’t work — you move on to the next. I love the micro changes that can render these gravity-persuading moments.
We try to balance things, don’t we. Sometimes in our inners. Sometimes in our outers. We try to make beauty. We try to orient ourselves to both commitment and to letting go. There is medicine in this, isn’t there. None of these balanced stones are permanent. They too will be moved. By the wind. By the slight rumbles of earth. By the sandstone that evolves outside of time — two or three grains here and there.
There is much to learn. There is much to celebrate. There is much to rewire in us (or unwire). I can feel all of it happening. Stones are teaching me. Kind men are teaching me. The wind is teaching me.
I’m a lucky man in big learning, and big beauty.
