Mountain. Mountain everywhere.
Massive, Immovable. Immutable. The only thing on the move was me.
Driving alone through the Provo Canon towards Park City gave me goosebumps.
The Parkway was empty this Saturday morning. No road signs on the side or overhead.
No people. No cars.
Where is everybody?
Am I the only one driving to Park City for Sundance?
Where are the filmmakers and fans?
Doubt crept in.
Am I headed the right way?
Did I enter the right address in my Google Map app for my Sundance event?
Should I pull over to check?
No. Let me hang in. Let me keep going for a bit.
Ten minutes later, a car appeared in my left rear mirror. Another car popped up in front of me in opposite direction. Soon, more cars came into view on both sides. Next, a small sign listing Sundance. Park City.
I began to relax because I was head in the right direction.
Still, driving along this widening and narrowing winding road was dizzying.
It was impossible to peer over the bend to see if I was driving too close to the edge. With only the cliff in sight, I had to slow down. I also had to speed up once the road came into full view with multiple lanes because impatient drivers behind me were already accelerating. I could hear their engine revving up and signalling for me to move over. I didn’t feel I had to compete with them. I didn’t feel pressured to drive fast. I had time – a real luxury. But still, I moved over. I wanted to enjoy this ride. I wanted to keep this moment of driving this long and winding road in memory. So what did I do? Slowly and carefully, I lifted my mobile phone already set in Google Maps with audio driving directions to Park City. With one eye on the road ahead, one hand on the steering wheel, I right-thumbed the phone to video. I slowed down as I turned my sight on framing the shot on the dashboard, capturing what I saw as I drove.
Steering the wheel along and around this vast and undulating and chain of mountains on all sides was humbling and exhilarating. I felt trapped and I felt free at the same time. There was boundary. There was also uncertainty. It was awe-inspiring. It was also thought provoking.
Much of how I approached my way behind the wheel here is very much like how I approach life itself. As life unfolds, my position and perspective of what I see shift. I can see what I set out to explore – the landscape, the ups and downs of the journey and surprises that I don’t see coming. But I can’t see what’s hidden from view. Those scenes around and behind the bend of every long and narrow lanes won’t reveal themselves until I come to it. The question is – will I come to it? Yes. I will come to it as others have come to it before me. They explore nature and cut a path for us to follow.
So far, I am simply following along. The Canon, like life itself , has many edges that I may not see coming until I come to it. Finding the edge and see what lies beyond completely removes any fear or doubt I might have previously. Finding the edge pushes and expands my faith. Finding the my edge helps me move it to the center – before your eyes to see whatever seemed so far off, untouchable and inaccessible is available for your contemplation and imagination.
As the glorious poet Mary Oliver told us in “Wild Geese”
…Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,…