The Challenge of Landscape

Two years here now, and some clarity is starting to push itself to the surface.

In Iowa, there was a lot of talk about a "sense of place," and I felt it there -- a palpable, but gentle connection to the land that was deeply emotional. I felt tied to the growing of things, to the calendar of planting and harvesting built on tradition and experience, to the bounty that the land would bring us.

Here the land speaks more of challenge. They are "my mountains" now, and the connection to them is as real as to the rolling green of the Midwest. But they are a symbol of the challenge of life, of the tests I put before me. In my reading about landscape, I've come across some relevant references to the book of Job. In despair over the trials of his life, Job turned to God for answers and he was told to look to the power of the earth, the awe, the scale of forces larger than his own life.

It is easy to forget this in the city. The problems there are largely of our own making, and it seems that if we just put our minds to it, we could fix them--poverty, homelessness, traffic. That they exist feels more an indictment of our lack of caring, our collective selfishness in pursuing modern life.

We are behind in many ways, a victim of our own remote geography. When I moved here, I learned there is no overnight delivery, and power outages regularly last a full day. Internet connections are unreliable. When the rains roll off the mountain and make the roads impassable, there are no alternate routes. You just wait for the water to clear, even if it takes hours.

My friend Annette with the Council of Governments, is in charge of establishing 911 addresses for every location in the region, an area the size of New England. This has taken her several years. County land maps can not be duplicated in the usual ways, since the only official record are hand-drawn maps with information written on tiny paper flags mounted with straight pins. Nearing the end of this project, she's resorted to hiring pilots to find and photograph locations she's missed. There's more out here than anyone can get a handle on, and there's a limit to what our computers and technology can do. Yet, she has the task of making sure everyone anywhere in the region can get emergency help, an aching responsibility.

We both know that in most battles out here, land will dominate man. The desert is stronger than you. The mountains are bigger. That's something we have to accept. Our modern lives are at the mercy of the power of the landscape. Forget for a minute that en masse, humans can destroy what we have out here. One-on-one--on the scale of our individual lives--were are not powerful or particularly important next to the land.

Many would say I placed myself in peril, away from friends and family and with fewer financial resources than I had in Iowa. But I gained a sense of resilience and trust in myself. I feel more powerful, willing and better prepared to take on tough problems. But equally important, I'm starting to learn that some challenges cannot be easily fought. There's grace to be found in acceptance, that I might do better just to release to the power of challenges as big as the mountains.