It is the season of LISTS! The top ten whatever. The five "must haves" for Christmas. Four ideas that will change your life forever. Nine reasons to lose weight. Six reasons why drinking red wine is good for you (I read that one).

December through January life becomes so easily summarized, encapsulated, squeezed into a box, packaged and red bow tied - then handed over. Problem solved. Gift given. Solutions supplied—holidays fulfilled. Done, dusted & forgotten.

 Public holidays are essential, as they oblige us to "slow down." There is no place to go, hide, or run to as everywhere is closed. Shut tight. Then the true jitters show up. Those painful awful truths of being alone … with just us. And before too long therein creep those genuine beguiling authentic moments invariably leading to personal introspection. Was it worth it all? Was anything really accomplished? What was actually achieved? Did anything of significance happen in a year of turmoil …. of living life (discounting the medias "breaking news") what could YOU count as significant?

For me these gifted holiday moments are served best by the phone not ringing and better yet, if it does, I am not required to answer. The seasonal festival is an opportunity to act differently, to break the course of routine; relax, repose and reflect.

 2006 was a became good. I decided life owed me one. If fortune didn’t gift me with winning the lottery (which is difficult-- since I never buy the damn tickets) I would brazenly grab the magic ring of life and jerk it in my direction. Take something once for me. Late 05 was limping to the Mayan wonders of Copan, Tikal and Chitzen Itza. In early 06 I took a jaunt up the Nile, Alexandria, (hereditary guardian library of the Western world´s knowledge) Luxor (the 8^th wonder of the ancient world—already buried in sand when that list was drawn up) and side trips to the Oracle of Siwa and the Giza plateau. Toros followed: Sevilla, Madrid, Granada, a summer jaunt to Champagne country to witness how the French sell sparkling wine for 500 times the price of normal plonk and then Frog march their barrels full of cash to the bank. Then Almeria toros, Murcia toros and a sneak over to Morocco humming "don’t you know you’re riding on the Marrakech Express—they’re taking you to Marrakech" ricocheting through a gray matter probably also receding. I went and enjoyed. In the late fall a glorious family reunion and a rocket ship ride through America’s southwest studying the Puebloan (Anasazi) cave dwelling culture, more Mexico and a new Mayan temple (unearthed just 70 miles from Cancun that will prove bigger than famed Chitzen Itza and compel Mayan historians to rewrite their books; AND my 50^th corrida de toros of the year last week in Mexico.

 Whoops, I almost ruined it by mentioning a quantitive expressions when the purpose should be relaxing, reposing and reflecting—drawing a quality examination of one’s reminisces´.

 Of all the glasses I have clinked, toasts I’ve listened to, dead I’ve buried, kisses that I never gave, cruel words I blurted, hugs that I didn’t share and thoughtless actions taken … one moment prevails gapingly apart from the rest of life’s demeanors. Me standing on the precipice of one of the earths´ greatest natural wonders … the Grand Canyon.

Awesome. Overwhelming. Just unbelievable. Not in fact imaginable if you don´t see it for yourself. Even if you NEVER wanted to believe in a God the overpowering majesty instinctively converts you to understand your true place in nature; your role in belonging to the infinitesimal; your minute greatness shared within the magnitude of the earth (and, of course, the forever expanding universe).

 On his visit to the natural wonder nature photographer John Muir penned "It will seem as novel to you, as unearthly in colour and grandeur and quantity of its architecture as if you had found it after death, on some other star."

 And so it does as one is virtually swept away into a vastness that concerns not petty affairs or familiar happenings but rather a cosmic out of body transmigration. The cosmic consciousness that makes us all one in its presence and part of it’s all; bonded in infinity.

  It took the Colorado River some two billion years of serpentining down some 277 miles to carve the chasm which is as wide as seventeen miles in some places.

 Just enjoy the splendor. If you cheat and look about you your personal discovery is negated by the presence of a Hopi Indian shrine now converted into a convenient watch tower for the four million visitors that too make the trek to behold shocking red stands of granite transform into deep blue streaks as the sun and shadow change hues and pitches. A gaping cavern continually transfigured into something different with each passing moment, a wonderment of cloud soft pastels and a blazing dynamic sun giving animated meaning to rocks as old as this planet vying for attentive eyes.

 Here at the Grand Canyon is where our hearts write the poems that our loved ones so deserve to receive; it is where our simplest thoughts metamorphosis into symphonies and rebound from far off mountains to cascade to those most deserving of our considerations; where Pavarotti belts out our arias to the limited tribe of loved and respected friends. But in truth the place is not ours. Quietly in the background reverberates a timeless tom-tom the ancient Indian drum pulsating rhythms to yield constancy to seasons, a prophetic constant to the twin echo of our hearts pulsations.

 If there is a meaning from such spiritual ejaculation it pertains to the oneness of us all; the brotherhood of men, the family of man—all embracing. For in that one split nanu second of time comes a firm recognition and understanding the wonderment— we beat to nature’s clock and none of us can escape our own hearts pounding-- rhythmically tic-king tic-king -- that we are not alone … we all belong—we are all a part of a whole—be it too passing.

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