Angle of Repose
Mesa Arch, Canyonlands National Park
Poet Eileen Myles gave the commencement address at Hampshire College in 1998. The only things I remember from that day were my envelope-pushing but wretchedly uncomfortable shoes, and what Myles said about arches: she talked about the symbolic significance of walking through an arch. I’ve never seen an arch since then without thinking about the passage it might initiate.
Wherever we may be headed, there is something humbling -- and soothing -- about being reminded of our unique and tiny role in the big picture of the universe. After all, we are a bunch of particles clumped together that happen to have consciousness, a body of remarkable design, and the ability to create and consume things like glazed old fashioned donuts.
Only the vastness and majesty of the Earth could dampen the noisy clamor of today's biggest megalomaniacs -- tussling to out-do each other in grotesque displays of hubris. After more than a year of profound loss and suffering for so many -- not to mention the rapid and undeniable acceleration of the climate crisis -- and the best use of the wealth bequeathed to them by global consumers and market deregulation is to compete for who has bigger windows in his rocket ship? Bezos and Branson are Olympian in their immaturity.
Kids might not appreciate grandiose landscapes, seeing them as a 'bunch of rocks. . . ' and maybe they're right. But sitting among them, sculpted over millions of years by water and wind, there is stillness. Indifferent to our desires, our heartbreaks, our persistent foolishness. . . there is wisdom in that bunch of rocks ignoring us. Meanwhile, this mass of particles in Elton John-inspired sunglasses can witness in them that which abides -- like The Dude in "The Big Lebowski." Perspective offers comfort — as this pelting rain of a moment evaporates like the water in the local aquafer, or like the uranium industry that once made this town boom.
The angle of repose, I learned yesterday, is the steepest slope at which loose material is stable without succumbing to gravity; one degree steeper and it's all downhill. Pema Chodron, Chinua Achebe and quantum physicists agree: things fall apart. The art of living — so said a wise greeting card I received recently — is in both holding on and letting go.
