Seeking Simplicity on the Rim of the Grand Canyon

Maybe I want to work at the Grand Canyon because I’m in search of simplicity.  I want to escape this world of infinite access to all things.  I don’t want to be tethered to the internet twenty-four hours a day.  I don’t want people to be able to call me wherever I go whenever they want.  I want to feel lonely.  I want the freedom of isolation, the freedom to constrain myself and disconnect from the noise of the twenty-first century.  When you can do anything, when you can find pleasure, satisfy your most idiosyncratic curiosities, and indulge your every whim with the click of a button, do you really gain freedom?  What is freedom of choice when the act of choosing becomes effortless, so that one choice is no better than another? 

I want to sit over the rim of the canyon and cast my gaze at its hundreds of red islands that rise out of the dark shadows of the earth.  I want to rejoice in the knowledge that except for my friends and my family, and anyone who happens to read this blog, nobody in the world knows where I am.  Nobody knows that I’ve fallen in love with a shaft of light cutting through the clouds that glide over the canyon.  Nobody knows that in that shaft of light I find justification for my existence and compensation for my aching knees that prevent me from hiking to the bottom of this majestic canyon.  Nobody knows that in the curtain of rain I see far in the distance I read an explanation for why the world is the way it is, why on the one hand people suffer while on the other light breaks through these dark clouds and softens the jagged edges of the canyon below, paints its skin red, orange and yellow, and here and there dabs specs of green to signify the life that thrives in its cracks and folds. 

Canyonlands National Park--not the "Grand Canyon," but part of the same system of canyons carved by the Colorado River

The Grand Canyon