The Humbling

“Nature has a way of taking over. We put up these magnificent buildings, and we move around in our remarkable machines, and we think we’re so dominant. And in a lot of ways, we’re too dominant. But the fact is, we weren’t always here, and we won’t always be. We need to understand that. This is not a perpetually human world we’ve moved into. This is our moment, but the world is larger than us.” 

John Elder, from “The Undiscovered Country,” The Sun Magazine, June 2013

Utah’s expansive canyons and unique rock formations have a way of humbling the human ego. Their lives began eons ago under oceans, when prehistoric creatures swam along the massive walls, among the strange shapes, and in the valleys between. Those eerie hoodoos of Bryce Canyon are estimated to be 60 million years old. 

Not so for us humans. We showed up on the scene as Homo sapiens a mere 300,000 years ago, making us one of the youngest members in the family of creation. 

So when exactly did the humbling begin for me? It may have been as my husband and I stood on the rim looking across the vast, undulating canyon and the Colorado River below at Dead Horse Point. Or when we hiked up to Delicate Arch, only to be stunned by how indelicate the arch is and how fragile all we humans were as we trailed along the rocks like ants. Or maybe when we encountered the drawings carved into low places on canyon walls, and I thought of the people who had been here before, thousands of years ago. No memory, no record except for these etchings. Bones turned to the dust of the canyon itself.

There, in the fascinating landscapes of Utah, I came face-to-face with my personal insignificance. My lifespan is a tiny dot on the long timeline of creation. Very soon, sooner than I’d like, I’ll go the way of the people who carved the petroglyphs. And for millions more years, the arches and hoodoos will stand and the canyons will abide, magnificent.