Drawing the Line

As I stood in the river, looking up at the remaining crack of sky, I was in awe. The strip of blue is framed in stone, seemingly endless vertical walls of red and slate, creating a magical hallway, and I loose myself. My feet splash foreword through the lifeblood of this canyon, carving the rock further still, reducing solid earth to fine sand, carrying it ultimately down into the Colorado and resting in the sands of the Sea of Cortez.

The gorge winds, each turn taking me deeper into the unknown, the further I push upstream, the smaller the gap between the striking embankments gets. I find myself trying to stretch out to rest my palms on the opposing sides, the water gets deeper as it has less room to stretch out as well. My heart throbs from the beauty as my mind reels, trying to take it all in, trying to fathom the immensity of time and the forces that created this place. My lifespan is a blink of an eye here.

Then a simple truth drifts over my awareness, an obvious fact, but none the less difficult to accept at face value… Both sides of this are, or were at one time, the same side. 500 feet up to my left, beneath my feet and the 500 feet on my right are the same stone. This entire place is one stone… Earth, where water flowed carving both sides to the same coin. It is easy to perceive them as separate due to the river’s being a seemingly definitive border between the two.

Yet the water is just the surface. The silt oozing up between my toes, the boulders hidden in the murky water that my wandering feet discover, and the untold foundation beneath all of this, are one. What, if anything, separates them? The water runs only the surface of what I am experiencing. The Virgin River, from its birthplace to it’s resting grounds (and furthermore, the planet’s oceans!) flow as one. Although there are a multitude of different types of bodies of water, if it flows, it flows as one… Flowing above the water still, the wind who gives the stone it’s chill, stirs the atmosphere that coats our planet. Is there a separation in the air between the bedroom or the hallway, or the front room, or the air you are breathing as you’re reading this?

I know that I am being redundant; it’s just cause I enjoy spinning off into oblivion pondering the inter-connected, entangled, quantum foam of “reality”, but at this very moment, as I stumble onward, my wide, wandering eyes searching for the horizon settle in and begin to wonder where they should draw the line… What is the illusion of water in our lives, our perception, which creates the perception of separation?

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