A thing happens up here. For a necessary moment, it’s life-changing. In other moments, when the thing disappears, it can feel overwhelming.
This thing is called complete presence.
No phones, no internet, no news, no pandemic, no racial inequality, no systemic injustice, no lost lives, no riots, no smothered futures, no political fighting, no sides, nothing.
Nothing beyond what happens to take place right here, in the moment.
Last Friday, a group of wonderful guests arrived and stayed until Sunday. We knew nothing that transpired in between. Sure, we knew about the pandemic, but that’s no longer news. That’s life. Sadly, we had heard the last breaths of George Floyd and watched as his life slipped away under the weight of generations worth of pressure.
While our cities were erupting, here we were, completely oblivious. Not by choice but by circumstance.
As if a perfect metaphor, the crash we felt tuning in after a peaceful mountain weekend, has been inescapable. The privilege of simply not knowing, not seeing, not understanding what has taken place cannot last forever.
Just as all our guests swapped out weekend disconnection for brutal weekday reality, so too is a broader swath of our nation beginning to confront an eruption that’s been burning for some time. Racial injustice may feel like news, but it’s not. Like the pandemic, it’s a way of life and has been for some time.
If you’ve felt it, we feel for you. If you’re surprised by it, ask questions. If you’re frustrated by the nationwide uprising, take time to listen. We are a space created for all walks of life—conservative, liberal, black, white, brown, big city, small town, and everything in between. But even we know that some issues transcend cell signals, internet access, and the natural peace of a mineral pool. To be awake is to be alive.
Let us engage. Each, in our own way. To understand what we cannot and to change what we can’t not.