When entering the Gorge, leave behind all preconceptions. Let yourself be carried off on a stream of consciousness that tickles the heavens as readily as it grinds down stone.



Stranded in emergent origin,

we strive to see what is not there,

and we stare, and stare, and stare,

we see impressions, recurrent shadows

of a dream fending off a nightmare,

a dream born and raised in faded lullaby and

scheme. Do you remember the pangs

they bring? How deep and lasting their cuts?

Do you recollect your reservations,

your misgivings, or have you let go?

Renounced fear? Do you think you’ve been

redeemed? Or is this it, the way it was and always will,

now and forevermore, in the wake of all

you revere? It’s good to forget — one must remember

to forget. Not all memories are sweet and

not all visions pleasant. Chisel the marble and

forget the rubble at your feet. Paint over the wall and

dismiss the image that was there, the old brushstrokes,

the empty spaces, forget them as you strike new form and

color on the canvas of your dreams. Reinvent the clothes

you wear, revamp the style of your hair. Tell a joke you

daren’t tell before, caution in the wind. Retell your

life story, it begets a new lease on life. It did for me. New

beginnings were essential, the seams that held me together.

Sutures in life’s tapestry.

Stitches in the unraveling human soul.