Paula and I were in Alaska for 12 days. But that’s not saying much. Being in Alaska for 12 days (or 12 weeks) is like saying you’ve been in the Pacific Ocean after dipping your toe in. It’s true, of course. You have been “in” the ocean, but it’s terribly misleading.
Alaska is vast.
It’s 663,268 square miles. One-fifth the size of the lower 48 states combined. Twice as big as Texas. It could hold Massachusetts sixty-two times over.
Alaska is spectacular.
Three million lakes, 39 mountain ranges (containing 17 of the 20 highest peaks in the United States), and 100,000 glaciers covering 5 percent of the state. One of those glaciers is the size of Rhode Island!
Alaska is bountiful.
Seals, sea otters, bald eagles, whales, puffins, moose, bears, tundra, tamarack, Sitka spruce, white birch, fireweed, forget-me-nots, rivers, fjords, bays, waterfalls, and Denali.
No, you can’t see all of Alaska, but you can see enough to take you to another place.
A holy place.
Before any of us were Christians, Jews, Hindus, Buddhists, Muslims, Mormons, Moose, Elk, Lions, Rotarians, Democrats or Republicans, we were pagans. Simple people. At one with nature. At home.
And then we went missing.
But now we’re coming back. Gradually. Back to our senses, back to our place in the family of things. It’s a reunion, a reformation, a revival.
No, our sins cannot be forgotten. Amnesia is forbidden. Repentance is required. Amendments must be made. And soon!
The way is hard. But grace abounds.
Denali takes us into the mystery of grace. Like a cathedral, Denali draws our gaze upward. It evokes awe and wonder and humility. In its presence we feel small but not diminished. It doesn’t judge or condemn us. We shudder before its majesty. Reverent. Still.
(St. Peter’s Basilica can’t hold a candle to it.)
And if we could—without looking weird—we’d take off our shoes, fall on our knees, and shout, HALLELUJAH. But we keep all that inside and take a photograph instead.
And Gaia says, “Cheese.”
It’s not that she’s vain. It’s just that she’s happy one of her children finally figured out how to make a damn camera—plus music, poetry, and art in homage to the natural world.
I mean, as venerable as grizzlies are, they couldn’t get that done. If they see a salmon, they’re not taking a picture.
Or writing a poem.
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Paula’s new photo (Aialik Glacier). Scroll down to “visual explorations.”
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