Canyons
Lower Antelope Canyon took me by surprise. We were walking in the searing wind over flat white rocks tinged in pink and gold when a tiny crevice in the earth appeared. Our Navajo guide, Gabriel, announced our arrival.
“We are going into Mother Earth. Each time we do so is a rebirth. We believe the Earth is our mother, and we are going back into her. Each time we emerge, we are reborn.”
The space between the rocks was no bigger than the width of my foot. We slithered between the surface rocks following Gabriel down steps and ladders into rooms of cool stone that could not be seen in the blazing sun above ground.
Water had caused these rooms and twisting passageways. Water from the flash floods of desert storms left swirling patterns in the stone, odd shapes and turns, and carved wider expanses within the bowels of the earth. Light filtered through the coolness to make the red rocks glow. Halfway through the canyon, Gabriel played the flute in soft haunting tones of the desert canyon wind calling us to our souls. Then he left us to experience the rest of the canyon on our own, waiting for our rebirth.
The canyon was quiet now. My husband and I sat and meditated. The world was just above us, yet far away. I needed a safe place to be just then, a place where I could remember who I am. A place where life’s storms and bustle could not derail my intentions. A place of peace where I could begin again.
Something stirred deep within as I sat meditating. Something that confronted me to look deep within. Something that beckoned me to go still deeper. There in the womb of the earth I was reminded of a longing. The longing as yet had no name. The longing had been there since before I could remember. The longing came from a time before words.
The voices of other visitors to the canyon roused us from our meditation. Quieted within, we walked on, exploring deeper into the canyon. The light angle shifted as the afternoon sun sank lower, and every formation, every twist and turn of water and stone washed in glowing light took our breath away. I understood the meaning of the Navajo teaching: “Walk in beauty.” Reds and golds, vermillion and whites – around every bend a surprise, naked beauty of rocks cut by powerful currents, sand blasted by pebbles and stones in the floodwaters returning again and again.
The hour grew late, and Gabriel would be waiting. The way was shorter coming back. We retraced our path, remembering our way. And then, just as suddenly as Lower Canyon had first appeared, we were there at the entrance. We literally squeezed between the rocks forming now a birth canal, and stood again upon the flat white rocks tinged in pink.
Something about life got a little clearer in the canyon, something I could not name, yet something that would guide me. Longings guide us through this world, through its endless twists and turns. Longings give us purpose and direction when life is confusing, filled with half truths and deceptions – odd little distortions we tell ourselves or have taken in from someone else, odd little distortions that separate us from ourselves and from others. Longings properly understood put an end to purposeless drifting and aimless wandering through life.
