Holes (Kid Stuff)

Holes are a deep subject - akin to a well.  Now there are doughnut holes, fishing holes, button holes, blow holes, key holes, post holes, air holes, sink holes, pin holes, mole holes, pot holes, and fox holes.  Peep holes, man holes, chuck holes, cubby holes, and pigeon holes.  There are holes-in-one, holes in the roof, and Jamie Lynne is forever shooting holes in my theories.  Simply put, there are a whole lot of holes. 

But for the moment, let us ponder just three: black, white, and worm.  Now beware.  We’re about to blunder into the subject of spacetime – a mathematical model in physics which combines time and space into a single interwoven continuum.  Pretty deep stuff and I’ll be the first to admit that I really have no idea what the vast majority is all about.  Especially the math part.  But maybe you’re somewhat like me and have yet to reach that age when a boy becomes a man.  And if so, perhaps you’ll venture with me into a nebulous reality where a wiser man would never tread.  To look in ways that an eye of greater experience, tempered by the hard knocks of reality, would never allow the mind to scurry, much less dawdle.   And for a brief while, view the world not through the practical lens of the scientist but with the quizzical eye of a treasure hunter.

First, let’s look at black holes.  These are areas of spacetime where the gravitational effects are so strong that anything entering is infinitely trapped.  Even light is squeezed increasingly tight by the darkness.  Next come white holes.  As the name would suggest, these regions of spacetime are the reverse of black holes.  Purely hypothetical, the province of these areas is like that of a fountain - matter and light continually flowing forth.  But nothing enters.  And lastly, let’s throw worm holes into the mix.  No, not those in apples.  Here we have a feature that links two separate points in spacetime.  A “passageway” capable of connecting immense distances as well as short.  Not to mention universes other than our own and points in time either past or future.

Wow.  OK then. There we have a bit of other-worldly scientific theory if not the foundations for some good science fiction.  But the intent here is not to debate the merits and/or deficiencies.  The question is:  what, if any, applies?  And, if so, how?  And of course, there are no firm or concrete answers to those questions.  But for fun, let’s theorize.  Take a look at a few pictures:

So, how do those seemingly random pictures relate to our quest for treasure?  Within the scope of reality, not much.  But taken metaphorically and with some degree of imagination these very tangible landmarks suddenly become gateways into other dimensions of our search.

It is here that it becomes helpful to let the mind’s eye wander and think once again as a ten year old.  Feel free to poke a few holes in these thoughts.

Let’s imagine that various clues, sprinkled like the proverbial bread crumbs, have led us to a specific location (point “A”).  The pathway is constant and sure.  But upon our arrival at point “A”, the trail goes cold.  Ice cold.  Except for a feature that could be construed as a black hole - physical in nature, symbolic in meaning.  Oh, Oh!  We’re too close.  We’re being pulled in.  As hard as we try to claw our way out, we continue to slide down and into the vertex.  Faster and faster.  Tighter and tighter, the pressure builds.  Then in the blink of an eye, we hit the worm hole.  We’re flipped and spun.  And we explode through the apex on the opposite side and out past the base.  Catching our breath, we notice that this spot has points of reference that are parallel in nature to those at point “A”.  And it is at this subsequent locale where the clues once again spew forth allowing the search to continue.    

One final musing.  The previous reverie dealt with the abstraction of space, but our holes are fused to the concept of time as well.  What about the past?  And the future is even more problematic.  Here too, the mind of a child helps rather than hinders.  Because there are no rules that demand we stay in the here and now.  Perchance, our veritable worm hole will deposit us not in the physical world at all.  But rather something more abstract - a chapter in a famous novel, a scene from a blockbuster movie, a great piece of artwork, or even a cartoon.  Perhaps a classic sci-fi thriller will transport us back to the future.

Well, all that wasn’t too hard.  The tricky part is making it all come together in reality.

What say you?  An ace in the hole?  Or bottomless well?

Madison River Valley (Kid Stuff)

“And take it in the canyon down”

The waters of the Firehole River join those of the Madison near Madison Junction within Yellowstone National Park.  Only occasionally is the pace swift.  More often than not the waters meander and linger within the pools of cobalt.  Fishermen lay the fly on the gentle swirls and wildlife finds a sanctuary.

The pace is leisurely through the meadows and stands of pine.    And the mind slows as well – drawn and reluctant to move forward.  Content to ponder simpler times and events of bygone eras.    

Nevertheless, forth we must go.  The canyon insists.  So, we leave the park along with the gentle riffles.  Onward to where lines of cottonwood assemble along the banks – sentries guarding over the procession below.

Slow and steady is the way.  But soon the terrain becomes less gentle and the river becomes enclosed by steep hills that rise majestically above either side.  It is here that the course is impeded.  First by man at Hebgen Dam.  And then again not much further down at Quake Lake which was formed in 1959 when an earthquake triggered a landslide of massive proportions.  Steep escarpments were jolted from their grip on the southern wall.  Mere seconds, and the natural flow was blocked.  Immovable standing in defiance of the inexorable - although a short time later the earthen hodgepodge was reinforced by the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers to prevent a breech.  The lake quickly filled and remains to this day.  As does the scar on the southerly slope.   While on the northern face we find huge boulders, some the size of large houses, which had resided peacefully at the top of the southern mountain, slid down the void, and then back up the opposite side.  Here they remain, a good distance above the lake surface.  All three give testament to the magnitude of the event. 

Here the waters rest.  Along with 28 souls that died that fateful night.

But the canyon calls.  The waters will not be denied - they find escape.  Up and over.  And then for some three miles the waters rush.  Free and white.  As if impatient to make up for lost time.   

  

And it is along this stretch of whitewater that a number of our “clues” suddenly converge - “Water high”, “below the home of Brown”, “warm waters halt”, “no place for the meek”, and “heavy loads”.  And yes, “the blaze” is in full view as well.

The search intensifies while on foot.  And more “clues” fall into place as the din of the rushing water forces one to “listen well” and the accompanying mist in the cool mountain breeze prompts the hope that our “effort will be worth the cold”.  Nonetheless, the debris field is vast and rubble strewn.  Each step demands our undivided attention.  The proverbial needle in a haystack comes to mind.  The uneventful breed’s monotony.  Together they conspire to muddle the mind.

Wait.  What was that?  Something from the corner of the eye and a few steps back calls after to look again.  With a moment’s afterthought, an object unknown seems distinctly out of place.  And so it is.

To this day the true meaning of that solitary memorial is unclear.  In all likelihood, a family’s final homage to a beloved husband or brother.  The last home for one who found his greatest joy when a prized Brown broke the surface and the Elk Hair Caddis was set.  But the trinkets left in tribute remain somewhat curious and together they would seem to point to another canyon, in a different location of grandeur.  Nothing certain.  All circumstantial.  Yet, as a whole they suggest a destination both compelling and irresistible.   

So it is here that we part ways with these beautiful waters.  The canyons of the Madison will soon merge into those of the great Missouri and move east.  While our journey, our adventure takes us west towards the Pacific.

To a place “not far, but too far to walk”.     

Blessings (Psalms and Prayers)

Lord Jesus, 

Silent, cold, without hue.  Each elfin crystal unique in form.  Individual and never to be repeated.  Yet all repetitive in nature.  Dainty, delicate, and with character.  Nearly lighter than air they dance on the breath of the frigid.  Some twirl, some dart, others float with rhythm.  And each brings a gift special unto itself – love never ending, joy maintaining, peace abiding.  Each purposeful in their duty.  All content in their destiny.  Without numbers they come.

They pile and interlock.  Mold and cement.  The minute transform into the massive and vast.  A mantle of volume is formed.  The blanket guards and protects, calms and quiets.  With time come envelopment, fortification, and warmth. 

And the warm brings changes in form and purpose.  But the motive is never diminished.  The intention remains even as the hour changes.  Some now wash.  Some nourish.  Others sheathe.  Some teach.  All enlighten and reflect.  

In the still my soul shouts without voice, Hallelujah, my Lord, Hallelujah. 

And my very breath ices and rises up towards the heavens.  Insignificant amongst the immeasurable.  The weak reaching in return to the Mighty.  The unworthy outstretched back towards the Holy.  Yet understood.  Indeed, loved. Unfathomably, cherished.

And they fall.   

Amen.