Reverence and Awe

“I’m so glad you asked that question. No one ever asks that question,” said Lennox, our tour guide for Lower Antelope Canyon.

I stared at him in disbelief. I asked the question because this was why I came. I wanted to learn. I wanted to know more. “It’s been probably a year since someone has asked that,” he said before continuing with the answer to my question. A smile came to his face, and he began.

The words, the story, the meaning poured out of Lennox with an almost transcendent energy. His passion drew the other members of my tour group near, and we listened intently. “Antelope Canyon is a sacred place for us. The Canyon is delicate because it is an open canyon,” he said and pointed upwards. We followed his finger and looked up at the tiny crack above our heads. “Therefore, we must protect it. How do we protect it? With our intentions. What you bring into the Canyon, the Canyon will give back to you. If you bring a sense of reverence and awe, then it will give that back to you. But if your intentions are not good — if they are selfish — then the Canyon will not give back.” I saw a few heads nod. Others placed down their cameras and cell phones. We wanted to hear more.

“In our culture, we believe the Canyon was given to the five-fingered being.” He held up his hand and spread his five fingers. “It is the place where the physical meets the divine. The sky, the stars, the universe — it is all a part of us. We are all connected.”

With these words, I looked around me: the gentle morning light peeping through the narrow slit of sky above our heads, the burnt-orange walls curving and folding around our huddle, the soft sand beneath our feet, the beautiful geologic manifestation of Time and Mother Nature. Surrounded by such striking beauty, I felt small, but not insignificant. Quite the contrary.

“Sometimes, we see people from other religions coming into the Canyon bringing incense and offering their own prayers of reverence. We do not stop this — in fact, we like this, it is their way of showing awe and reverence for Nature.”

As Lennox continued his lecture, the man standing next to me asked, “What question did you ask?”

I gestured for him to draw near. He leaned his ear towards my face. I whispered, “What is the significance of Antelope Canyon in indigenous culture?”

That’s it. Such a simple question and yet, no one ever bothered to ask it. Visitors from all over the world come to Antelope Canyon with their selfie sticks and video cameras and in their desire for the perfect photo to show their friends, they miss the most important message of all. By asking a simple question and listening closely to the answer, the experience of the Canyon shifts from observation to understanding, from intrigue to humility.

We have so much to learn from our Native American friends. They possess a deep reverence and awe for the natural world, and I can’t help but think that this sense of reverence and awe is good for our entire wellbeing, and most notably, for the health of our hearts. We come from the earth, just as Antelope Canyon did. Antelope Canyon and I are made of the same stuff — as Lennox said, “We are all connected.” So it’s no surprise that after our journey through Antelope Canyon, I felt better — quite literally. I felt energized. My heart felt light, and my brain felt calm.

I don’t feel better after scrolling through social media. I don’t feel energized, my heart doesn’t feel light, and my brain certainly doesn’t feel calm. It’d be great if, the next time I’m stressed from work and in need of an escape, I could drive over to Antelope Canyon and experience awe once again. But alas, I can’t, so that leaves me with only one option: to find awe in the natural world surrounding me. Like the cactus on my favorite trail who is older than the United States government. Or the three-legged beetle eating a blade of grass in my backyard and determined to live despite his handicap. Or the bright pink moon that rises over the eastern horizon. Or the seed who, upon cracking in the dark underground, is certain that light exists.