Chapter 24

John continued the last four miles in a kind of trance, and when he finally saw the Colorado river, he felt like it was the promised land. He was a 40-year old man in below average shape, and a 13 mile hike made him feel like he had just ran a marathon. He dropped his bag down on the ground and found the strength to run when he finally spotted the water. He dove in and felt the cool, rushing water wash over him. It felt like a baptism.

     He played in the water for what felt like hours as he looked up and saw how far he had come. He still had the capacity to surprise himself, and that was a feeling he wanted to hang on to. As he dried himself off, he looked over and waved to another group he saw that had just reached the water. This entire hike was all about surviving until you got to the water, and what he saw on their faces was a look of relief as well as joy and redemption. He hoped that they saw the same in him.

     He found his tent site at the Bright Angel campground and settled in. A month earlier he couldn’t have even fathomed the idea that he would be setting up a tent at the bottom of The Grand Canyon, yet here he was. Tonight was a respite for him, and tomorrow he would wander even further into the wilderness alone, and the thought both fascinated and terrified him. His whole life had been a push and pull with other human beings, and soon he would be miles from the next living soul.

     That night more campers settled in, and John wandered over to the communal fire to be sociable and met some fellow travelers. At one time travel had ben his passion, and he missed hearing stories from the road.

     He found himself doing more listening than talking that evening, and he found himself fascinated by the people who had made it down here on their own pilgrimages. He found himself particularly amused by two women from New Hampshire who promised themselves they would take this trip when they both lost a total of hundred pounds. It had taken them nearly two years, but they had succeeded, and now here they were.

“Tell me guys, I’m a psychologist and I really want to know,” John began. “What is the secret to changing your life in such a dramatic way? I’d like to bottle it.”

“Well for one thing, we were sick of never getting laid,” the taller of the two remarked as they both laughed hysterically. “What do you think of that doc?”

“I think it’s a fine reason,” John replied. “Freud would certainly agree with you. He thought people did everything to increase their chances of getting laid. Alright, I’ll give you that reason without further commentary, anything else?’

Seeing that he was serious, the shorter one looked at John intensely, and seeing he was serious, replied. “Since you asked and since I’ve had 3 glasses of wine, I’ll tell you doctor. Fat people in our society are invisible. I know that sounds funny given their size, but I’m quite serious. It’s like you don’t exist to people, and I got sick of feeling like I wasn’t even real anymore. So I suffered and cried and sweated, and now I’m beginning to think people are beginning to see me again.”

“Wow,” John said quietly. “I appreciate such an honest answer. I know exactly what it feels like to feel invisible. In fact I’ve felt like that most of my life. Until I fell in love that is. For a fleeting moment in my life I felt like people could see me again. I think that comes with feeling truly understood by someone. I don’t think it comes around very often though. Maybe once or twice in a lifetime if we’re lucky.”

“Well you know what honey, I’m going to recommend a book to you and I want you to read it. It’s called “The Invisible People” and it’s about a lot of the things we are talking about tonight. Do you want me to write it down for you?”

“Uh, no, I think I can remember that,” John said. “Now if you ladies will excuse me, I have a long day ahead of me tomorrow. Wonderful to meet you.”

“Check out that book!”

He smiled and nodded. But he already knew what was in that book.

He had written it.

Chapter 23

John spent a couple of hours talking with his new friend Tim, and during the conversation was reminded why it was he had become a psychologist in the first place. He wanted to instill hope in people, and even at his most wounded, that instinct was still very strong. He believed he had done that with Tim, and while they spoke, he began to feel a pull back towards his professional calling s a therapist. Although it had been Tim that was asking him for help, in the end it was as the Buddhist’s said. It is the giver who should be thankful.

     He spent the rest of the day gathering up supplies for his hike to the bottom of the canyon, the place of his last truly spiritual experience. In the month since his wife and daughter had died, he had been drinking fairly regularly, and he worried about his fitness level as he contemplated the task that was before him. It was 13 miles to the bottom of the canyon, and that was the easy part. Going back up was when the trouble started.

     He spent the evening on the patio at the El Tovar, which overlooked the canyon. He had switched from Bourbon back to beer for the occasion, as he did not want to take on tomorrow’s task with a hangover. He would need all of his physical resources for what he had to do. As the evening wore on, he noticed Tim and a number of his co-workers sit down, and he waved John over to come and join the party. John took a look over at Tim and some of the pretty girls he had with him, took a long lookk at his beer, and, with a deep sigh shook his head. In another life he would have been over there in a second, but right now he had another agenda. All of this has happened before, and all of this will happen again he reminded himself as he retired upstairs to his room. 

     He got up very early the next morning to begin his journey, knowing that despite the fact that it was quite cool at the top of the canyon, it got considerably warmer as one descended. As he took his first step, he thought about his daughter Kim, and the first book he had ever given her when she officially became his, “Oh the places we’ll go,” by Dr. Seuss. He had promised her that they would travel the world together, and he felt a pang of sadness wash over him as he realized this was a promise he would be unable to keep. The Beatles said “you’re gonna carry that weight a long time,” he was sure they were right.

     Despite the fact that he was carrying a heavy backpack, and that he had been drinking, not sleeping and eating poorly for the last month, John felt strangely energized as he descended into the canyon. He ha studied a great deal about the mind-body connection over the course of his career, and he knew that the mind had a great capacity to make the body ill, and also make it a whole lot better in even the most dire of circumstances. He also knew that it worked the other way as well, that getting the body in good shape could also heal the mind. He knew this would be a significant physical test, but right now he was cruising.

     He reached Indian Garden later that morning, which meant he had walked nearly five miles since he first started out that morning. He noticed he was running a little short on water, and he refilled all of his bottles as he sat in the shade and took stock of where he was. He had come a long way down to find his truth, but he still had a long, long way to go. He couldn’t help but appreciate the symbolism. 

    As he began his final push for the day, the mid afternoon sun had risen, and he felt himself breaking into a sweat. It reminded him of how much he had been neglecting his body lately, and he realized this was something he couldn’t continue to deny. He had remained free of alcohol for over a year during his marriage, and he knew that it was no coincidence. For many years alcohol had been a kind of replacement companion for him, and now that all of the love in his life had disappeared, it had returned. It was something he was going to reconcile unless he wanted to continue to run the risk of dying a young man.

     John had gone another five miles or so when he realized he was seriously running out of steam. He had anticipated this happening, and took the opportunity to dig his ipod out of his bag to provide him with a final bit of inspiration. Music had always had the power to help him transcend things, and he hoped this would still be the case. He had to keep on going. He had no choice in the matter.

     The first song that came on was “Jesus Etc.” by Wilco, and he took that as a good omen. It was one of the first songs he and Stephanie had listened to together, and he thought of the song often when he remembered the early days of their courtship. He picked up the pace as he heard the lyrics and thought about them as they related to his own life.

‘Jesus, don't cry
You can rely on me, honey
You can combine anything you want
I'll be around
You were right about the stars
Each one is a setting sun’

He thought about his own two stars in his life, and how they had indeed been setting suns. Still, they were keeping him going now, and for that he was grateful. He had come this far, and now he had to see it through to the end. 

Chapter 22

Driving in to the gates of the park, John remembered his vehicle from the first time he had ever seen the canyon, a 1970 Volkswagen Bus that he had purchased for the sum of 1,000 dollars, at the time almost all of the money he had in the world. The Van had a table, a stove, and a bed that pulled out, and at the time John felt like the luckiest guy in the world. He could go anywhere and do anything, and when he first saw the Grand Canyon it filled him with a sense that anything was possible.

     Now he had returned, and as he wound down towards the canyon he felt a surge of excitement. He had had one of the few truly transcendent moments of his life at the bottom of the canyon, and now he was going to see if he could find some of this magic again.

     He parked his car and walked up to the world famous El Tovar hotel, where he had once worked as a maître de so long ago. It too looked the same, and John was once again hit with an odd Deja vu that the past and the present were somehow intersecting again. He was feeling something that he hadn’t expected. Hope.

     As it happened, he wandered into the restaurant he used to work at right between breakfast and lunch, and he heard the sounds of classical music playing in the lonely restaurant as he took a look around. As he did he had a visceral reaction to the music and found himself thinking about John Steinbeck and Cannery Row, specifically a passage where the protagonist of the story “Doc” laments about a lost love after listening to Monteverdi's Hor ch' el Ciel e la Terra. The book had filled John with his own kind of longing, and shortly after he read it for the first time he took to the road, wanting to find his own Cannery Row and a love that was his to lose. He had wound up exactly where he was standing at this very moment, 22-years old and broken hearted.

      And here he was again, except this time 40 years old and broken hearted. What had he learned? As the music filled up his senses he thought of Shakespeare’s sonnet, “That time of year thou mayst in me behold” and in particular the line, “which makes thy love more strong, To love that well which thou must leave ere long.” Shakespeare had it right. Love me now, because I’m not gonna be here forever. This seemed particularly apparent to John at this very moment. He felt like two separate incarnations of himself somehow existing in the same place and time. The feeling was at once both disconcerting and comforting.

“Can I help you?” A young man in a familiar red coat asked

“Uh, sorry, I was jut looking around for a second,” John replied. “I used to work here. A long time ago. "

“Really,” the young man replied. “Let me ask you something then. Is there life after working at The Grand Canyon? I feel like I’m 22 going on 40. Tell me there is something else.”

John smiled as he thought about the question. “I’ll tell you, it’s a funny thing man, but the very thing you want to get away from is the same thing that brings me here today. I wanted to remember a time and a place where my life seemed to have a lot less worries and a lot more freedom. Now that you mention it though, I did hate working for these assholes though.”

“My name is Tim,” the kid said as he laughed and extended his hand. “I dropped out of school at UCLA to work up here if you can believe that. Trying to see the world a little bit and have a few experiences outside of the classroom. At least that is what I keep telling myself.  So far I seem to be working a lot. I promised myself I would start writing my book when I came out here, but so far it’s going slow. So what advice do you have for me? You’ve been where I’ve been, right?

“First of all my name is John,” he said as he shook his hand.“ And to be honest with you, I think you’re right where you need to be. You know what John Lennon said about this dilemma you’re experiencing, right? He said Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans. Sometimes the most significant moments of our lives are happening right when we think we have hit a wall, or are feeling totally stuck. Let me give you my card, I’m a writer myself, and maybe I can help you if you’re feeling stuck.”

“I’ll tell you what man, I appreciate that very much. Somehow I feel like I know you, but I don’t remember ever meeting you. You know what Kurt Vonnegut said about these kinds of things? He said when you meet people who make you feel like this you might be a member of the same Karass. So, yea, I’ll take your card, but maybe you can do me a favor as well. I’m getting off in a couple of hours. What would you say to having a beer over at the Bright Angel at about noon?”

“I’d say that sounds perfect,” John said as he smiled and walked away. Thinking of he did about significant moments and old memories. 

Chapter 21

     As John pulled into the town of Flagstaff Arizona, he felt an unusual pang of nostalgia for the time he had spent there as a kid, and, on a whim he decided to stay the night there at the Monte Vista hotel, a famous old landmark in the city that had suites named after all the notable people who had stayed there. When he was given the Bob Hope suite, he remembered that he had stayed there before with the girl he was dating at the time, and he laughed at the oddity that he was now standing here again. He’d like to believe it was a coincidence, but he was starting to doubt that was the case. He felt like there was something he was supposed to figure out here, but right now it was just out of his awareness. Perhaps by retracing his steps he could find some answers. 

     After unpacking, he went down to the lounge downstairs to have a drink. It was exactly as he remembered it, and he smiled at the thought that he had once been a kid barely old enough to drink on a similar adventure At the time he felt that the world was completely his for the taking, and now, older and wiser, he felt a wave of this feeling again. He took it as a good sign. 

     As a tribute to his past, he decided to forgo his usual order of Maker’s Mark and drink the well Bourbon instead, a decision he had also made when he had first entered this lounge nearly twenty years ago. He went over to the same corner booth he and his girl at the time had sat in, and took a long swig of his rotgut Bourbon. It was as bad as he remembered it. Perhaps this was one part of his past he could leave behind.

     He found himself thinking about that particular girl this afternoon, and how at the time he felt like they were destined to be together forever. She had shared his love of travel and adventure, and, like him had expressed a desire to avoid the trappings of traditional marriage and family. She was also smart, beautiful, and fun-loving, and he remembered at the time thinking how lucky he was to find someone who had so many great qualities. They were young, fearless, and had each other. What could go wrong?

     As it turned out, a lot could. Over time she had drifted more towards wanting a responsible life for herself, and she began to pressure John to do the same. They had not parted amicably, and he had not heard from her in nearly 15 years, until he got a lengthy email one day describing her life as a wife and other, which she was immensely bored with. It was something he would never have predicted for her. 

     For a number of years after that, John had questioned the idea that settling down in the traditional sense was any kind of avenue to happiness. Meanwhile, he got older, the women in his life had gotten needier, and he eventually found himself in his 30’s an unmarried and lonely psychologist who drank too much. Then, on one odd day not unlike so many others in his life, one person of the millions who had crossed his path had altered his life in a way he still didn’t completely understand. He didn’t know much in this world, but the experience had taught him that life could throw thunderbolts at you, often when you least expected it. 

     He went over to the jukebox and selected the Indigo Girl’s song “Closer to Fine,” which had been a favorite of he and his girlfriend at the time. He wandered back over to the bar and ordered some real Bourbon this time. As he took his drink he silently toasted to lost youthful love, and listened to the words of the song,

‘I'm trying to tell you somethin' about my life

Maybe give me insight between black and white

And the best thing you've ever done for me

Is to help me take my life less seriously

It's only life after all’

Amen..

Chapter 20

He spent the whole evening at the Big Texan, and, to his amazement finished the entire steak and all of the trimmings in the allotted hour. It was an affirmation of life. He had also met some fellow travelers from California, and they spent the whole night drinking Tequila and swapping stories from the road. There were a lot of laughs and good conversation, and John forgave himself his continuing regression in light of the fact that he had a wonderful time. He was learning how to reconnect to people.

     He took a look around his shabby hotel room, and for a moment could honestly not remember if he was 22 or his current age of 40. Psychologically and emotionally, he was beginning to think he had actually traveled to another time in his life. Looking in the mirror however quickly dispelled him of this idea. He was looking a little rough.

     He found himself getting excited about his trip to the Grand Canyon, and vowed to get on the road and make it as far as he could today. All of the drinking was starting to catch up to him, and he realized he didn’t relish the task of another day driving across the barren dessert. He wanted to spend a day and think about why he had turned so quickly back to alcohol during this period of duress, but today was not that day.

     Getting into his car to start the day, he popped in a Ray Charles Cd to keep him company during the drive. There was a wistful quality about his music that John had always loved, and by the time “Georgia” came on, his mood had improved considerably. He thought about Ray and the life he lived in the dark, and how he had numbed the pain of being in the dark with drugs, alcohol, and sex for most of his life. In an odd way, he could relate. 

      Stopping off in a little coffee shop outside Albuquerque, John found himself drawn to a poster on the wall of Mark Twain, it read, “What a wee little part of a person's life are his acts and his words! His real life is led in his head, and is known to none but himself. All day long, and every day, the mill of his brain is grinding, and his thoughts, not those other things, are his history. His acts and his words are merely the visible, thin crust of his world, with its scattered snow summits and its vacant wastes of water--and they are so trifling a part of his bulk! a mere skin enveloping it. The mass of him is hidden--it and its volcanic fires that toss and boil, and never rest, night nor day. These are his life, and they are not written, and cannot be written."

     He was surprised such an appropriately wise bit of information would present itself to him now, and he wondered for a moment if the universe was coming back around to his side. There seemed to be a kind of synchronicity to the way things were unfolding, and he reminded himself to be more cognizant of signs that he was perhaps supposed to be noticing. 

     He spent the next couple of hours thinking about the quote from Twain, and wondered if perhaps he was supposed to be alone in this life. He had spent more time than most in the company of his own head, and for better or for worse it was certainly a devil he was well acquainted with. On the other hand he had experienced a kind of intimacy with his wife that he doubted few people ever really got a chance to share. Sharing his most vulnerable pieces with another human being had given him a kind of confidence he had never really experienced before, and he wondered if perhaps he would ever feel that way again. Right now it didn’t seem likely. 

     He though specifically of a story his wife had once told him about her first bike when she moved to a new town. Her parents had recently been divorced, and she was given the bike as a consolation prize to ease the blow. She had spent the time on her bike trying to escape the life she had inherited, and found herself going further and further each day she had a chance to ride.  She had described it as one of the most vulnerable periods of her life. 

     He found himself thinking about this particular story because it had conveyed a kind of longing that he had felt his whole life, and another human being had shard with him that she felt the same. She had made him feel understood in a way that he had never experienced before, and it made him feel real in a way that felt intensely powerful. As Lao Tzu had said thousands of years before, “Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage.