“Two men looked out through prison bars.

One man saw dirt, the other, stars.”

 

There is a series of faux “National Parks Posters” on Facebook based on one-star reviews left by visitors to those various magnificent places.

 

I think the reviewers were telegraphing themselves and their limited  viewpoints (their “what’s in it for me?”) in places where most other visitors see the bigger picture: the wondrous works of Nature/Mother Earth/God (or whatever else you care to call the creator of these marvels).

Grand Canyon: “Just a big hole in the ground.”

Arches National Park: “Too Orange.”

Yosemite: “Too many trees and big rocks.”

Other Parks: 

“No wifi.”

“Just mountains, lakes and trees.”

“No one was around.”

You get the idea.

 

It reminds me of the pioneer named Bryce who looked into the National Park canyon that now bears his name and mused, “It’s a helluva place to lose a cow.”

 

We see who we are, and what we believe something or someone else is in relation to ourselves and our paths in life, when we open our mouths to express our opinions.  We express “our truth” as we see it (which is why the former president and his supporters frighten me so! Racism, sexism, misogyny, xenophobia, and more come from their lips without the slightest degree of shame, discomfort or insight. They believe what they say as fervently as I mean what I say and, by golly, it’s their way or the highway — all others should just stand by and let it happen! NOT ON MY WATCH!)

 

Let me guess (AND IT’S ONLY A GUESS — some of these reviewers might actually be incognito wanna be stand up comics) about the personality of each of the above reviewers. Do you agree?

 

Grand Canyon: “Just a big hole in the ground.”

Translation: “Nothing is as impressive as I am. Not even the Grand Canyon.”

 

Arches National Park: “Too Orange.”

Translation: “I want life to be more colorful. Life is boring.”

 

Yosemite: “Too many trees and big rocks.”

Translation: “This place makes me feel too small and unimportant.”

 

“No wifi.”

Translation: “Life is such a drag that I need a constant electronic high just to make it feel worth living.”

“Just mountains, lakes and trees.”    “No one was around.”

Translation: “I need other people and artificial stimulation to keep my life feeling do-able. Give me too much time to think, and I’m screwed.”

 

When I visit a National Park, I don’t miss “civilization.” I don’t long for any other stimulation. My senses get so full of what IS (outside of ME and US) that it’s almost overwhelming.  I do feel small and unimportant, and that’s as it should be.

 

I wonder what Elon Musk feels when he visits a National Park. Or if he ever has.

 

The experience depends on the personality that experiences it.

 

When William Shatner flew into space all he saw was “Death!”  I very much doubt I would see death if I flew into space. But he’s obsessed with death; it scares him halfway there, so he takes it with him wherever he goes. (We all take our perspectives everywhere we go, which is why we can come to so many different conclusions. Have you ever compared notes with someone who you believe “shared” a specific experience or a perspective?  Try it. It’s a real eye opener!)

 

I’m not afraid of death. That doesn’t mean I’m eager to die, but I think when I do (if it doesn’t come in some horribly painful way) I’ll be perfectly at peace with it.  I don’t know what comes after with any more certainty than I know what came before my present incarnation. I think death will be just as fine if I go nowhere after this life (except for returning my remaining elements to the soil to nourish other living things) or if I go somewhere else, but I don’t anticipate going somewhere else. I’m ready for annihilation, for total rest.  I have had a relatively easy life in comparison with billions of other beings, but that doesn’t mean it hasn’t been difficult.  I would NOT want to live forever.

 

Like the song says, “Oh yeah, life goes on, long after the thrill of living it’s gone.”

 

My mom was appalled by those lyrics, even though she told me several times, “I’m getting too old for this world.”

 

I’m not yet too old for this world, but I do echo Mark Twain’s sentiments when he was in his seventies: “People tell me I’m a pessimist in my old age, but I’m not. I am an optimist who did not arrive.”

 

I expected bigots to evolve during my lifetime.  With the Information Age and TV, they’ve been given every opportunity to step outside their prejudices and awaken to LOVE for others, and they have not done so. They call caring about and treating others the way they want to be treated being “woke” like it’s a bad thing!  I don’t get it and I never will.

 

Which brings me back to perspective. Some people see friends everywhere. Other people see enemies everywhere. I realize I’m immensely fortunate to be in the first group. I can’t even imagine what being in the second group must be like internally, and I don’t want to.  I get stressed just trying to put myself in their shoes. No, thank you!