Cosmos

We dove into the sea of humanity in downtown Manhattan today. The sheer density of people and culture in a few square miles of city is intense. My son Matt said it best when he observed that, though diversity is a reality in many places, in New York City diversity is accessible because people of all makes, shapes, sizes, and sorts happily interact together.

While people in my view define New York City's personality, the side effects of the teeming populace create a thick backdrop of sight, sound, and smell. Giant screens, some spreading across multiple stories and most of city blocks, flash corporate slogans, broadway show ads, and every product and service imaginable from every angle, left, right, ahead, behind, and up. Taxi horns, chatter, the shifting gears of buses and trucks, currents of street music, and the bass rumble of the subway infuse the city with waves and tides of sound. To my delight, the predominant smell of the city is of good food saturating the air with savory aromas massaging the nose.

When I looked at a map of Manhattan, saw that the distance from Times Square past Central Park to Columbia University is less than four miles, I thought walking from point to point would be easy. I didn't account for the need to stop and wait for a walk light every block, nor how the thick foot traffic slows progress on foot to what I'm sure is about a half mile an hour on average. One cannot stride quickly through Manhattan. The city, in all ways, is simply too dense for a speedy walk, Central Park the exception -- but no one is in a hurry in Central Park. Taxis, subway, bus and, for the wealthy, limos are the way to move from place to place if getting from point A to B is what matters.

Excited and agog at all this, we came to Christ Church (United Methodist) on 60th and Park Ave, a landmark for it's Byzantine architecture and artistry. We stepped into the sanctuary and found an island of serenity. Prayer candles flickered from the altar rail past mostly open, empty pews beneath tiled, vaulted ceilings depicting the heavens. The exalted Christ looks down from the chancel dome, seated above Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, each holding their Gospel books. We had stepped into a world within a world, passing from human chaos to divine cosmos.

We lingered in the sanctuary for an hour that felt timeless, grateful for an oasis of peace and order we would have least expected to find here. I think -- this is what Sunday morning is for the average person: a touchstone of the way God intended the world to be, in the midst of the world human beings create. So we take the sense of Christ's Lordship with us into the swirling, sometimes crazed life we live.

Americans

After 3000 miles or so on the road, several stays with friends of friends we had never before met, countless interactions with fellow tourists, service people, and even most drivers, I am pleased to have a new stereotype to apply to people who live in America.

First, to touch on some of the previous ones -- Californians are haughty and in a hurry; Idahoans are stubborn and independent to a fault; people from Wyoming are cowboys; South Dakotans are flat like the terrain; Minnesotans are stoic and sure by golly wish they weren't, oh to just guffaw for once, donchaknow . . . etc.

Throw in images formed from television and general ignorance about Easterners: fast talkers, abrupt, agressive. I could see that -- but then there is Eddie down at the front desk here in Jersey. Yeah, talks kinda fast, says "be right widcha" right on cue, has a lot of energy, but underneath the style is basically a nice guy who looks you in the eye and really wants to be of help.

Today we head into New York City. Here's what I expect to find: folks with their own charming cultural style who are, at heart, basically good people with a bent to friendliness. I'll let you know if that's mistaken but again having just motored nearly from sea to shining sea I'm feeling confident in the character of the average American.

So, maybe the next time you hear something negative like "people are saying" or "The American people want . . ." or news that makes you wonder if it's OK to be proud to be one . . . open hearts abound in this country. Makes one proud.

Heroes

We wound into Custer State Park on the narrow, sometimes corkscrewing roads through Keystone, WY, twisting around pigtail bridges and threading needle-like tunnels, some with just one lane. Our destination for the night was a camp site Laura nabbed early that morning at Center Lake.

CSP is one of the cleanest, well managed parks I've ever visited. As we began to visit points of interest we learned how the current park embodies the vision of Peter Norbec, a mover and shaker in the time around the Great Depression. Nearly all of the literature and information about Custer State Park makes reference to Mr. Norbec, elevating him to the status of local hero. And of course the park is named for a famous/infamous general, hero to many.

A main attraction in the park is, of course, Mt. Rushmore. Four American heroes, past presidents, gaze down on the park from a mountain.

We set out the first full day at the park to the great faces in stone close up. We had caught glimpses of them artfully framed in the narrow tunnels. With a good view from the road as we approached the Memorial we elected to move on to Crazy Horse up the road.

Crazy Horse Monument has a great premise: that Native American peoples have heroes, too. I enjoy several ironies with this project. Most obvious is that Crazy Horse is much larger than the four American presidents combined -- with a wink the Native Americans may be laying a larger claim on the lands captured and sculpted to a different cultural sense. More profound is the immensity of the process involved in carving the likeness of Crazy Horse in a mountain and creating a Native American Cultural center. After six decades Crazy Horse has a face. No completion date is set. The process, which will take several lifetimes, is just as important as the result. This in counterpoint to the results-driven reshaping of the land by our peoples.

I look for personal connections with these sites. I found an unexpected one at Crazy Horse. The Native American leader died on September 6, 1877 from a knife wound in the back by an American Soldier. The man (a European American)Karzac Ziolkowski recruited to carve the mountain monument was born on September 6, 1908; this was considered an omen by those who sought him out to begin this enormous project.

So, with my birthday also on September 6, I suppose I naturally take my encounter with Crazy Horse personally.

We had a great three days in Custer State Park, and I have a lot to think about.

What's In a Name

First stop on my visit to spiritual sites in America was a unique mountain referred to by Native Americans by such names Bear Lodge and Rock Tree. European explorers made an effort to understand the story and name for the mountain, but mistranslated the name as "Bad God Tower", which soon became "Devil's Tower". Along the way someone printing the name dropped the apostrophe, so now most Americans refer to this site as Devils Tower.
The huge rock is a unique formation. Geologists have three theories to account for its creation, but no proof positive about what the rock looked like in its beginnings. The mountain formed somewhere in the vicinity of 40 million years past and is a remnant of a much larger phenomenon. What remains is called a Monolithic Igneous Intrusion, which means that sometime in the distant past an upswelling of magma within softer rock cooled to form the tower. Over time the surrounding softer rock has eroded away from the sculpting of wind and water.

Native Americans of various tribes tell a similar story to account for the spiritual meaning of the place. Assorted stories tell of people, usually young women, who were gathering food when attacked by a bear. The Great Spirit raised the mountain underneath the human beings, while the bear groped and scratched to reach them, accounting for the cracks and columns on the side of the mountain.

Bear Lodge, over the centuries, has remained a profound spiritual location for Native American tribes. Even today people come to the mountain to pray. Modern American use of the mountain for climbing and recreation is often in conflict with the sensibilities of those who worshiped here long before Europeans settled in the area. Climbing is particularly controversial.

During our visit we walked the 1.3 mile path around the mountain. We met excited climbers and saw Native Americans quietly meditating and hanging prayer cloths on trees off the path. I found the place to have a looming, ancient feeling. I feel agitated by the cultural competition around the site. Beneath the ages of human experience I contemplated the mystery of the rock's formation and it's vast age. This area holds some of the oldest exposed rock on the planet; we passed fields of granite 2-3 billion years old.

Bear Lodge/Devils Tower is crumbling and will, one day in the far distant future, be no more. I wonder what the rock would say if it could speak of it's own history, past, present, and future. But the rock is taciturn; there is a mystery about the place that is profoundly spiritual, and unexplainable -- Native American stories and tales of settlers recently arrived account for this but do not explain.

I stand on the boulder field looking up at the imposing wall. Birds cast shadows on the cracked columns. I cannot climb the mountain; I wait in its presence.

Launch Day

Here is the first miracle of our trip -- everything fits in the van! Now we just need to add ourselves, a few sundry items and off we go. Thanks especially to the many folks who will be taking care of the house in our absence. Please be sure to clean up after the parties. : )

Somewhere OTR

Today is our final prep day before departure on our renewal adventure. We begin with six days of camping in the spiritual heartland of native Americans, then point the van to all points east. I've attempted to describe Wall Drug and miles of message signs to my boys but I think they'll have to see it to believe it.

Yesterday I went with Phillip to IF track to run sprint intervals. The boy is fast! While out we enjoyed this magnificent rainbow over the east hills. I look at it as a beckoning gesture -- time to come out for adventure and see what is over the rainbow. We hope skies will be blue and dreams will come true. Eventually we will end up heading across Kansas. We'll keep an eye on the weather and avoid any twisters and wicked witches over the horizon. I'll make sure we pack a pair of ruby red slippers for the return trip! This is the trip of a lifetime for us; but when it's over I'm sure I'll be saying, "There's no place like home!"

I'll be updating my blog about once a week -- nothing for a few days as we'll be in the wilderness!