A Grand Experience II

Month two has begun in my new life in Arizona. I disabled the touch pad on my computer since it was responsible for my near mental breakdown after my almost completed blog on August one was erased with two quick steps, neither of which I remember performing. I had suspected my over-sensitive touch pad was the culprit in many previous editorial mishaps, but I had been unsuccessful in finding a solution. My new friend Jason, Director of Literature Evangelism for the Arizona Conference of SDA, who happens to be computer fanatic, resolved my problem in a few quick keyboard touches-- amazing!
Yesterday I had waxed elephants about my trip to the red majesty of Sedona and the awesome visual assault that is the Grand Canyon. The Superintendent's Retreat was an unforgettable experience, for more reasons than I care to include in this blog. New friends were made. Extraordinary scenes were soaked in (it was steadily sprinkling during our Grand Canyon expedition). While at the "big hole in the ground," as my new friend Dave (superintendent in central California) and I referred to it after we had stopped for the umpteenth time to view the expanse from yet another perspective at the request of his conversationally-gifted wife, Rosa. I saw The Canyon from places I had never been to before and one place I should not have attempted to be at-- ever. But attempt I did.
It was Temptation Rock, at least to me it was. It was there, inviting me to experience it and its unique allure. It offered me an experience I had never experienced before. I could see life from a totally different perspective. The rock was there with is siren song drawing me to climb. I did not resist. I climbed down into the abyss and followed another pilgrim (Dave, who I sense was trying to escape his silence-challenged spouse) through a path not sojourned by many others before. He seemed able to enter and maneuver his way through passes that were not there for one of such muscular girth as I. I had to find another more challenging path. It was in that process that I had a moment of clarity, perhaps as others who were also having a serious face to face encounter with their sense of mortality. A voice inside me told me to turn back. It whispered, "Don't do it!" I wondered if I should have listened when I found myself clinging to a narrow sliver of slate trying to coax my shuttering limbs to exceed their ability and raise me to the plateau that offered me the satisfaction I so desired. I vacillated between life and death. I slithered to the top with my knees taking the brunt of my efforts.
But oh, the view! It was reserved for the few headstrong survivors willing to risk it all for the moment. I was on top of the world. I could see the promised land-- not quite, but I could see the Colorado River in both directions and the North Rim in all its afternoon glory. I will never forget the view.
Then I had to climb down...and up again. Only I knew (until now) how close I came to becoming a footnote in the annals of Grand Canyon lore, together with the Hydes, who thought it a great idea to raft down the untamed Colorado River on their honeymoon in the late 19th century. Their boat drifted down the river-- they were never found again. After all is said and done, I would just as well blog it myself.