The Writer's Block

We left lots of undiscovered sapphires behind in Gem Mountain for other wandering tourists to discover, and we finally set a direct course for Yellowstone’s northern entrance. I was skeptical about finding a campground within the park, although it was midweek when we arrived, since it was the middle of summer and unseasonably warm. Fortunately, there are some campgrounds within the park that are first-come-first-served, and we stayed in one of those for two nights. And we also made reservations for another two nights in a reservation-only campground deeper into the park. During that time we explored the western portion of Yellowstone from north to south.

Most often, when stories trickle out about this beautiful National Park to my ears, the focus is on saving the bison or Old Faithful. So, I admit to you that I was completely unprepared for the brilliant colors, the skin-tingling steam, or the consuming aromas. My senses were totally engulfed, my eyes, ears, nose and skin soaked in a bath of delight. I have seen colorful paintings before, created by human hands, devised by finite minds. I have had my nose titillated by strong spices and repelled by overwhelming rancidity or all-consuming death. I have heard the mockingbird sing its ever-changing notes of flattery. My skin has taken in both searing pain and electrified pleasure.

But Yellowstone’s appeal to my senses was none of these. She reached out of the spiritual center of the earth with every sensual finger and created the transcendent, portrait of God. I did not touch the artist during our stay at Yellowstone, she touched me. I did not see her, she saw me. I did not hear her, she heard me.

I would have never guessed that I would come to venerate such a strong clash of opposites as pungent as sulphuric fumes, love-at-first-sight-blue water, fuming green crusts of earth, monstrous bison, and the heart-pounding reality that bears could tear your heart out while you slept in your bed. 

I will not write about my return to reality after visiting Yellowstone. It was a sad homecoming, best left out of the story. The world is huge, and my three-bedroom home seems uncomfortably outgrown now. Maybe that’s the message Yellowstone whispered into my ears to calm my fears so that I slept so well each night I laid in her arms.