In October 2016, Dale and I spent a week in southeastern Utah. We had fallen in love with the area when we were in southwestern Utah four years ago and decided to go back to enjoy more of the stunning landscapes and endless varieties of red rock formations. One late afternoon in Arches National Park, we hiked the Park Avenue Trail, so named because it is like a New York City street bounded on both sides by tall skyscrapers (rock formations).
The hiking was slow because we stopped frequently to take pictures. Over the years of vacationing with a husband with a photography hobby, I’ve learned to entertain myself while he experiments with different camera settings and angles. Often my self-entertainment consists of taking a lot of my own pictures (or pictures of Dale taking pictures) on my little point-and-shoot camera.
As I wandered around waiting for Dale, I noticed that in the late afternoon sun, the towering rock formations were reflected in the pools of rain water that had collected in the depressions in the rock floor of the canyon. These reflections fascinated me, and as we continuing walking I made a point of checking out the different reflections in each new pool we approached. I took pictures, and soon Dale also caught on to the photographic opportunity these reflections presented.
The pools of water created interesting effects. The reflections were upside-down, and they were usually incomplete because the pools weren’t large enough or positioned well enough to capture the entire rock. The same pool could reflect different rocks, depending on the angle from which you looked into it. Sometimes there were no rock reflections, just muddy pools. In fact, most of the other people on the trail seemed to completely miss the reflections, but just saw pools of muddy water that needed to be avoided. Most of the time, however, you just needed to change your angle, move to a different spot, to see a reflection and not just a muddy pool.
A few days earlier, we drove up into the nearby La Sal Mountains and took a side trip off the main road to Oowah Lake. There we also saw reflections. The lake was small, surrounded by tall evergreen trees. But even though the lake not large, it was a lot bigger than those pools on the Park Avenue Trail; consequently, the reflections were much bigger, providing almost a complete mirror image of the surrounding trees reflected in the lake. The most interesting thing about these reflections, however, was that the color seemed more intense/richer than the original – or at least that’s the way it looked in the photographs.
Paying attention to all of these reflections got me thinking. As I usually do when my mind starts down one of these rabbit trails, I wonder about the meaning of words and I head to the dictionary. The verb “reflect” has three main meanings: 1) to think about, to consider; 2) to look like, as in looking or acting a lot like your parent; and 3) to be a mirror image, as in seeing your face reflected in a mirror. So I’m reflecting (thinking, considering) on a certain kind of image – a reflection.
Here’s some of what I wondered:
- What was I seeing in those reflections?
- What is real and what is just a (possibly poor) reflection of reality?
- How do reflections help us see the real thing in a different way?
Both at the lake and on the Park Avenue trail, I saw the real thing (the evergreen trees and the rock formations) and their reflections, so I could compare the real with the reflection, but that’s not always possible. Sometimes we have to rely entirely on the reflection, so it better be a good one. While the trees and the rocks were beautiful on their own, seeing their reflections in the water gave me a new perspective on their beauty, sort of literally doubling the pleasure.
And then I got more personal:
- What do I reflect? What do others see when they look at me, or read what I write, or listen to what I say?
- When I look in the mirror, what do I see – the real me, or just a poor reflection? Do I see what/who I want to see and not the real me? Or, when I’m being particularly self-critical, do I see someone much worse than who I really am?
As this new year begins – a year that I expect will be challenging in a variety of ways, given the political turmoil and the potential assault on certain values I hold dear – I hope the attitudes and attributes I reflect in my actions and words are something like the pools on the Park Avenue Trail that enhanced the surrounding beauty and provided new, different, and helpful perspectives. I wonder what other lessons I can learn from these reflections – both the thoughts and the images.
Bonus feature from Arches National Park, for this tenth day of Christmas:
One of the rock formations in Arches is called The Three Wise Men. You can see why:
Another rock formation, visible along the afore-mentioned Park Avenue Trail, has no formal name, but we thought it looked like Joseph and Mary with baby Jesus on a donkey (or perhaps it’s an elephant). What do you think?