Awesome Like a Jackrabbit

Most of the time, we humans are awesome. I make this observation sitting here in Harry Reid International Airport in Las Vegas, where I have stationed myself near my gate with hours before my flight boards. This is a unique spot for watching people. 

I was tempted to sit in a spot where I could turn my back on the crowd and look out to watch planes come and go against the backdrop of the Spring Mountains to the west. I'm glad I settled in a spot where I could watch people. Folks are snacking, calling, having a cocktail, emailing, listening to a podcast, playing slots, and striking up conversation with others who were total strangers just moments ago. Some are sprinting to make a connection. Some are, like me, in no mad rush with hours before they depart. Some trust the rest of us enough to fall soundly asleep. We're quite a group, and we are awesome.

Yes, we screw up. We make mistakes and horrible choices that hurt ourselves and others, but most of the time we're glorious. Like these two sitting to my right who hadn't met until a few minutes ago, now affirming each other's careers, celebrating where they live, and commiserating about having missed a flight to Dallas. They're as different as you and me in ways that I will leave to your imagination, but they are happily one here and now, bound in an impromptu bond of civility and shared space. Even as I type, they're now a crew of three, having seen the knowing smirk of my other neighbor, who also evidently wants to get to Dallas. 

I have spent the last few days in the desert up in the Spring Mountains here, at Potosi Pines United Methodist Camp. The photo to the right shows part of the Peace Pole trail leading further up into the hills above camp. It is a vast, stunning, awesome place. The trail winds between prickly pear, pinyon pines, cacti, juniper trees, sage, and manzanita. Hikers will hear wrens, jays, even flickers hammering away on trees and metal roofs or whatever will make them known. The sky is azure blue, and the earth is a mix of gypsum and sandstone and more, pushed up into what geologists call a "sky island" of unique species now isolated by the surrounding desert. During breaks from our work here on church camp curricula, I jumped at every chance to explore. This place is awesome.

Being in the wilderness opens me up. Standing with the Peace Pole at trail's end, I look across at peaks and down into the valley, in silence save the birdsong and the blustery wind through the pines. I'm reminded here of oneness, struck with the clear connection between tree and soil, sky and jackrabbit, peak and pine. I breathe in deeply and desert hills infuse my body, sharing without hesitation, and all I can give back is my adoration.

Here in D terminal in Harry Reid, I'm surrounded by an eclectic mix of hearts beating, brains signaling, eyes darting or closed in sleep, bodies destined for faraway places, journeys guided by hope as well as heartbreak. We'll board planes that will climb quickly to staggering heights and then soar at speeds beyond 600 miles per hour, all while we watch old Seinfeld episodes. In spite of ourselves, we are as awesome as wilderness.