A Monotoned Magnificence
Sometimes, it's important to feel small
On the paved north-south route just east of California’s Sierra Nevada mountains there is a 45-mile stretch that starts and ends in a monotone magnificence only possible in high desert landscapes.
Highway 395, or “the” 395 as Southern Californians are apt to bestow presence to that barren road with the inclusion of a definite article, winds its way alongside a river through narrow canyons speckled with juniper trees, across barren expanses of foxtail grasses and through numerous wildfire burn scars.
In early November, as the days become shorter and the nights colder, the fiery yellow of the 100-year old cottonwood trees and amber rolling hills turn the various shades of brown into a veritable rainbow.
Closer to the sleepy, cowboy community of Bridgeport the jagged, dark peaks of the Sierra subrange known as Sawtooth Ridge impose upon the valley, rendering the blue of the sky even brighter.
For the next 20 miles the highway climbs. Slowly. Certainly. Until, out of nowhere, the earth falls away in dramatic fashion; 1000 feet to be exact. From this pinnacle, the expanse of the Eastern Sierra unfolds in a most improbable manner.
The salt-laden lake known as Mono, formed more than 760,000 years ago, lies directly below, its preternatural tufa towers a stark contrast to the heroic white granite of the Dana plateau directly west. As one stands there, wind whipping with the ferocity of an impending winter, the 200 miles of freshly dusted snow-capped mountains on the horizon demand the kind of respect few things in this world can.
It is astonishing.
There was a season of my life when this drive was an ablution. As I haltingly crawled my way out of the chaos that was my ambition and career, as I tried to keep my eyes open after the 7-hour drive with an aimless plan to explore the weakness of my body and rocks, I would get to this place, in the dead of night with its deafening silence and moonlit shadows dancing across that lake and I would remember.
I would remember that there was more intensity to this life than the all-nighters I pulled with colleagues. I would remember that the elation of a high-stakes project or promotion is incommensurate to the towering sense of possibility before me. I would remember that while countless people might have a say over the arc of my career, my sense of permanence and presence came from elsewhere.
That’s what witnessing beauty and magnificence gives me. Perspective. A longing. Wonder.
The contours of my reality are different these days. Paradoxically, as I enter the stage of life where I’m supporting my family and leading teams, my work feels more consequential and less important. But the need for inspiration remains.
I am constantly seeking ways to fold astonishment into my life.
In some ways, having a child makes it easy. That implausible weaving of characteristics in a tiny human, so familiar yet so foreign, does a damn good job of making me feel small and surprised. But it’s also in the small pauses; the earnest care with which my cashier bags my groceries, that guitar lick that hits just right at the end of a long day, my pup running with abandon across a field of lupines.
The energy these moments create by breathing air into the monotone magnificence of my existence, laid bare, are the blazes of yellow along my journey.
Last weekend, we were driving north on the 395 after two sleepless nights at an Eastern Sierra hot spring with a 14-month old, nerves rattled by the exhaustion of DOING FUN THINGS that every working parent wills themself to accommodate.
As my aging gray Subaru crested the top of that thousand-foot grade, I turned one last time to take it all in, before exhaling deeply, with conviction, moving forward into possibility.
💡 For discussion, I’d love to hear your thoughts on how you find moments of inspiration amidst the chaos of life. What are the specific ways you seek to make yourself small? How might we bring this notion of wonder to our lives and careers?
With thanks to and
for the edits and feedback! And a special shout-out to and who have taught me so much about leaning into my narrative self and painting pictures with words 🙏🏽
Loved how this turned out! I can picture myself here. I feel spoiled I read it in the Draft version because i was obsessed since then 💥🚀👏