Crossing Guardsman's Way

Before they built the Olympic stadiums you could see the whole Salt Lake Valley spreading out below when you drove across Guardsman’s Way. When I was a kid I always looked from my spot in the back seat to see if the air was clear enough to catch the glint off the Great Salt Lake. At sunset the lake ignited like a giant copper band made molten by the colors of the setting sun. The salt desert, the glowing lake, all made a surreal river of fire across the horizon.

Crossing at night was its own treat. Millions of lights filled the valley like treasures scattered on a dark Ocean floor. Each glimmer was a person at home or work, maybe going out to dinner. I was comforted by the thought there were so many people nearby who would be my friends. That was until I grew old enough to realize there were so many people I could never meet them all. Never mind that many of them wouldn’t want to spend an afternoon with a six year old, there were just too many people to know.

I still remember the exact moment I discovered this higher math of friendship gazing at all of those friend-lights. I was heartbroken.

Henceforth the world was a cruel place, dangling interesting, wonderful friends-to-be in front of me with almost no hope of meeting them all. The skyline became less interesting. Who wants to be taunted like that?

I haven’t changed much. I still like people, even if they’re shut down and too angry to say hi. I know there are whole populations of people who won’t want to spend time with me because of my age and ethnicity. I understand better now, I’m OK with all of it.

I’ve learned that getting to know a few people really well can be more fulfilling than knowing a lot of people just a little. We are, each one of us, galaxies unto ourselves. The many lights of the Salt Lake Valley may as well be pinpoints of radiant consciousness within each one of us. Each is a signpost to something significant about our experience of being; our feelings, aspirations, curiosities, and hard won illuminations.

We pass each other by, secure in our back seats crossing Guardsman's Way, feeling too distant to reach out to each other. If we’re curious about the lights below we don’t show it. We certainly don’t consider that those same lights could reside within us, new undiscovered territory.

If I could talk to the younger me, sit in the back seat with him, I’d tell him not to worry about knowing everyone. “Spend time getting to know yourself. Learn how to look inside of you to find what really motivates you, how you really feel. Then, when you do meet people, you’ll have so much more to share with them, and you’ll probably be a much better listener. That’s how you’ll make the most friends, by starting with yourself.”

We are all part of an enormous, strange human community, yet that community taken in its wholeness from a birds eye is no more rich or complex than the world within each one of us. I’ve come to believe that our inner worlds are not governed by ordinary intelligence or even being cultured or well educated in any way. They are wild terrains that belong to every soul that has made it into this life for more than a heartbeat or two. That terrain is each of ours to explore, a gift and a responsibility.

I grew layer upon layer of protection as I grew up. Sarcasm and coldness protected me as I marched my way through teenage life in SLC. It was only later, when I really had the chance to pause and look deeply into that inner world that I rediscovered the small boy still looking for friendship in the worlds many lights. Cultivating our relationship over the years has been challenging at times but always feeds a calm, centered place in me.

I know it’s his wonderment and vulnerability that will be my guide, my teacher for this last stretch of the road I’m on.

He cherishes everything. What a gift.