When canyon walls crumble

Living in a mountain valley provides innumerable opportunities to witness life’s ever-changing nature. On a small scale, our temperatures swing 30 degrees or more from day to night.  We see sunny skies fade behind sheets of rain… rain solidifying into snow… and snow disappearing quickly as the sun returns.

Less visibly, and more impactfully, the elements create change in the apparently solid rocky cliffs that surround us.  As rain and snow melt seep into the granite’s cracks and then re-freeze and expand, small crevices grow. The solidity gradually shifts until it gives way, and rocks and boulders come tumbling down the mountain side.

Last Monday, activated by this slow process of change, large boulders fell onto the main corridor out of town to the east.  I-70 has been closed for almost a week as crews remove debris and inspect the canyon cliffs for more loose rocks, and then guide them down.

As much as people like to get to where they are going, and commerce uses I-70 extensively, there’s a beautiful honesty in this process of clearing. Perhaps we would have preferred if everything continued as usual.  And, yet, change is underway: the mountain is shifting.  And, we can bear witness and give space and support for that change, or we can risk real harm.  How lovely to simply be willing to be present with the transformation: to dance with it and to encourage its unfolding.  After this shift, the canyon will return to relative stability.  And, there may be just a little more sunlight shining through.

Crumbling canyon wallsWhat’s True for You?
What a lovely invitation to reflect… to see where transformation wants to unfold… to be consciously willing to invite that process, and its messiness, knowing that growth can be gradual until it isn’t…  that life can appear stable until its shifting gives way to big changes.

As I’ve settled into a new community over the last six months, my first changes were much more like the weather – obvious change as I explored the community and the land, finding my favorite spots and adjusting to the town’s rhythms.  I’ve at times felt anxious to begin my next steps towards where authenticity would lead me to grow.  I’ve felt crevices expanding…  creating openings for deeper transformation.

Where are you in discovering and stepping into what’s authentic now?  Are you feeling that call to silence, to being still and listening to your inner voice?  Or, can you feel those quiet shifts…  those beautiful hints of upcoming change?  Or, perhaps, you see where transformation is leading you, and you are actively engaged in creating something new?  Each phase is so beautiful when explored authentically, with loving, attentive interest in whatever arises.  I wish you much joy and discovery as winter melts into spring.


Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *