Searching Through Sandstone

A narrow beam of light from my headlamp methodically scans the rock wall above me in search of something to grasp. My breath fogs the cold night air and I am utterly alone beneath the thick black sky held above me. A fall at this point would be disastrous, but these are the thoughts that must not be felt. Instead my focus turns to breath, the rhythmic push and pull of air that keeps my mind and body steady. On the edge of the canyon I feel grounded. 

It is at these points, on the edge of a canyon, that the rest of the world fades away and only the most immediate surroundings come into sharp focus. I feel every grain of sandstone ripple under my fingertips, the slightest shift in every toe straining to balance, and from within the most visceral feeling of the canyon floor tugging below. 

So too, on the edges of day and night, is such clarity felt as the landscape comes into focus. The light is engulfing and I am forced to stop and marvel at the brilliance of my surroundings.