Love and Musings of the Wild West

The unexpected is the only certainty. You’ve heard this before, many different times and ways. But just when you’re about to forget it, life has its own peculiar way of reminding you, a tugging of a red string whispered deep into your heart.

My red string reared its head a year ago, studying abroad in Spain. I thought I had everything figured out then, which usually ends up being the moments life picks for its cosmic jokes. But I can’t blame it; I’m laughing, too.

Because suddenly, I’m holding the hand of a man who came out of nowhere as we wander the cobblestone streets at night in Barcelona. Then, hoping I can believe him when he says he’s going to come visit me the following year, but wondering how far the word ‘possible’ really stretches. And then, I’m picking him up from the airport in Chicago, and the feeling of hesitant hopefulness has long since morphed into something more solid, something that looks a lot like love.

And I want to show him everything, but mostly just my soul. Such a big part of it lies in the West, in wide open plains and rolling hills and the calls of eagles whirling overhead in the big sky. So when my winter break hit, we were off to the Badlands in my old orange car, praying it would make the nine hour trip.

The drive was plains, and more plains, until we hit the Missouri River. Then the land fell away from us in canyons and crumbles, revealing the Black Hills. It was like seeing my country anew from his eyes, laughing when he mimed stealing the cigarette from a cowboy statue in Wall Drug and feeling the glow of his awe when the Badlands finally materialized on the horizon.

We stayed in a little Airbnb on the end of a long dirt road and reveled in the silence it allowed us, surrounded only by trees and the voices of the owls at night. It snowed the second day we were there, blanketing the world in peace. Life slowed down, reminding me to breathe and think and dream and wonder. The stars spread out in the complete darkness at night, pinpricks of echoes of light in the unknowable cosmos. We spent so much time following animal tracks into the woods, researching what they might be and talking about the differences in the wildlife of our countries. The kinds of things people do when they have nowhere to be and like it that way.

I figured the Badlands in January were kind of a gamble, but it turned out better than I thought. The park was next to empty, the harsh land outlined by streams of silvery white. We could have been the only people in the world, hiking Notch Trail and Cliff Shelf Trail, breathless from the icy air and the view. Saddle Pass Trail was our exit hike, and we slipped and slid in the coating of mud on the trail made by the melting snow, but we were determined. The view from the top was beautiful, the tiny road we took into the park winding its way over the horizon. How small we must all seem to the eagles, who know the whole map by instinct and spirit.

We also saw Mount Rushmore, a testament to how people from the biggest civilizations think they will last forever. They never do, but in some ways, the love remains, an echo passed through history. Even though he and I left no physical mark, our laughter sunk into the the hills and returned the earth’s melody to itself.

There was no planned itinerary, just moment-to-moment exploration of a new place. We visited rock and crystal shops, learning about the history of South Dakota’s land. We drank our way through draft lists in bars that had stuffed rabbits sporting antlers on the walls and found little corners to hide away from the world in. The normal tourist spots like Keystone were all closed for the season, making it feel like we were passing through a series of ghost towns, hanging on the edges of time.

Saying goodbye to him two weeks later was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. Even though I know I’ll see him again in some months, it felt like splitting myself in half. And yet, this is only the beginning of a dream I’m really just starting to realize. I’m overflowing with gratitude for the way my life changed when he entered it, even though I never saw it coming.

Sometimes the most bizarre things are the truest. The things with no rhyme or reason end up being the true rhythm of the dancing.

Nothing planned ever turns out the way we expect, and what ends up holding the most precious of beauty is never planned. What a wonderful thing, to still have mysteries left to discover. To still have things waiting for me that will make me grin at God with all my crooked teeth.

I never expected to end up having all the experiences I’ve had, from a sailboat to a hippie community to an apartment in Barcelona, but in some ways it all saved my life. I never expected to take a piece of Spain bigger than a seashell with me when I left, but there he sat in the passenger seat of my car, a beacon of wonderful strangeness. I don’t know where this will end up, but when he smiles at me, I know I’ll follow it.

When you look at life from a narrow view, certain events and pieces look out of the ordinary. But when you look at it from a eagle’s eye view, those seemingly isolated incidents become a map of unexpected paths that lead to the sublime core of life itself.

I have come too far and loved too much to think that the universe is anything but a string of beautifully interconnected mysteries, a tapestry laid out just an inch beyond my comprehension. There is freedom in holding it with open hands, in trusting the voice carried to me in the music of the wind and the murmur of the unknown.

The world is whispering. Are you listening?