January 11, 2012

Tim Smith

Sensory Dissonance

Jet planes, helicopters, wailing sirens, ringing bells on slot machines, people laughing, hollering, car horns, car engines, loud music, talking billboards, hucksters, buskers.

Silence, softly moaning wind in the mountaintops, singing waters rushing over rocks, rustling dry leaves, wild turkeys calling their position to one another as they forage, the muffled echo of human voices bouncing from canyon wall to wall, footsteps on sand covered rock.

Brightly flashing multi-colored lights, scantily clad and bare female bodies, a sea of faces from every nationality, sparkling multi-colored fountains, balls of flame and jets of water shooting in the air, outdoor television screens the size of a house, street corner hustlers and pimps offering cards advertising their wares, mobile billboards on trucks driving back and forth day and night, homeless people sleeping on the sidewalk, architecture representing multiple continents and eras of history.

Ancient multi-colored rock walls sculpted and worn bare with time, water running over rocks, under rocks, around rocks, and even out of rocks, the moon rising over sandstone walls on one side of the valley and casting an eerie glow on those on the other side as it has done for eons, dappled sunlight falling to the floor of the valley where the rock towers will permit, dizzying heights, rock faces so straight they look cut, rock arches left behind when the rock around them succumbed to erosion and gravity, wild animals foraging in the afternoon sun, deer grazing the river bottom, a bull elk so intent on his meal he wouldn't raise his head for a car horn, a canyon no wider than the river that carved it or miles wide.

Restaurant food, perfume, vehicle exhaust, cigarette smoke, alcohol.

Fresh sage, dust, water, snow, wood smoke.

Four courses in a five star.

Sausage and cheese on a mountain top.

The press of humanity.

The touch of God.

Las Vegas.

Zion National Park.