Some Things are Too Close

Some things are too close to write about.

It is like when you walk the ridge trail from Ghost Ranch up to Chimney Rock.

You sign your name at the gate, but there is a disclaimer. Its purpose is not for search and rescue.

You climb, stopping now and again to write, or to drink some water. You look out at the plain slowly spreading below and pretend you are not breathless and out of shape.

At some point, you lose sight of the rock and scramble up and up, walking along the edge of a canyon’s sheer drop. You don't look down. You are trying to focus on your destination. You take some comfort from the rut of the path where others have trodden.

You lose the trail for three steps and see a place where the path has collapsed into the canyon and turn around thinking. That can’t be it. Your heart is in your mouth. Suddenly you see where you missed the turn.

Someone else missed it too and scratched a faint arrow into the rock. You add more definition for the next travelers, so the temptation won't seize them to leap over the red herring, holding onto nothing and plunging toward death.

You climb over the last upward step at the top and are amazed to find it covered in fine sand, like a beach in the sky.

You have the ground to yourself, but the spire of rock you came to see is no longer your destination. It is more interesting to look out to Pedernal or eat your apple while watching the dragonflies or offer the bush that shaded your feet a tithe of your water.

You climbed alone. Sitting there, all you hear for twenty minutes is the wind blowing through the sparse vegetation, the buzz of an insect or two, and the occasional car motor far below.

Then you hear a couple coming along, and their conversation is so different from your solitary endeavor. Perhaps those two have worked out another type of problem on the way up.

Yes, when things are too close, they go out of focus. Or they are different than they appeared from far away. Or you only see the details and not the big picture.

I saw your life from a distance. Now that I am closer to you, I can say I never really knew you at all, but I see the details.

I see how your words affected the lives of your friends. I see how they changed them. I see you in how they see you as they reflect your image.

In that image, for a moment, I catch a glimpse of who you are in their eyes. Perhaps they see something of you in me. What you shared is absorbed and reflected. It is too close to see what it all means, and you are too far away to see the details.

So come with me on the way down. Explain some of those ideas I missed from the bottom. You can leave me halfway to the destination and watch from afar as I return to the valley.

I will try to remember what the world looked like from up there.

*****

Thanks for reading my words. There are more available on my page at Vocal. I get a penny for my thoughts when you read them. I also gratefully accept "hearts" and "tips" when offered.