Lower Antelope Canyon  Arizona                                   click to enlarge

Travelers in this underworld will see many sights unavailable to the wanderers that travel only on the surface of the land. There are passages that beckon but lead only to darkness and heights that lead toward the light. There is a lack of sound except for the sandy rasp of feet sliding across the rocky surface, or the occasional keening of the wind high overhead. Voices carry then abruptly disappear and echoes can be heard only where the stone walls allow them.

The walls reach up from the cool depths towards the opening where you can see the brightness of the sky above and the light striking the hot sun-baked surface tries to enter the depths, partly successful, often not. When the clouds obscure the sun you have complete darkness unless you have brought the feeble yellow light of a flashlight with you. Or unless you are one of the chosen few that can see unaided in the darkness.

For somewhere that has light for such a limited time of day there is a surprising amount of color present. Color thrives on light, it needs it to show its intensity, its luminosity, its depth. Which is why if you stand still and watch you will see a slowly changing kaleidoscope of color swirl in slow motion in front of your eyes. Spaces that were a deep purple a moment ago are now shifting into a deep ruby-red the color of burnt cognac. Yellows and reds and oranges change places as they will, then suddenly go into a flat grey that mimics old cement as the sun goes behind a cloud only to return more intensely than ever as the sunlight returns.

This is what draws the wanderer to these depths. Many have traveled through the labyrinth that is this canyon and thankfully none have attempted to leave their mark scratched into the surface to prove their passage. Your personal mark is imprinted on the stone simply by your passage thru the narrow canyon. The spirits who reside here see to it that your aura has added another layer to the patina that make up the color of the walls.

Once in a while the canyon claims a visitor and they never leave this space in their mortal form again. In the time of the great Ent migration when the trees traveled across the land seeking knowledge and a home for the ages, one of the more venturesome Ents desired to see the wonders that lay beneath the earth. Its roots had spoken of the colors it sensed and the coolness it felt emanating from the depths. Upon hearing of these fantastical places his quest for knowing over came his natural caution and he ventured where trees shall not go. Trees and Ents are for the land above not the hidden darkness of the depths. It is unclear what transpired other than his quest ended here and his physical form has remained in this place through the passage of time. It is now known not as an Ent but as a bridge, a bridge where one went from one plane to another as we all must do in time. Ravens come here to roost now and again, perhaps to rest or perhaps because they can see into places we can not. It has been said they can speak to those no longer here except in spirit. Wisdom may be shared or perhaps warnings exchanged about the risks of reaching for something best left untouched.

The canyon endures and remains constantly what it is. A place of beauty, solitude and sometimes of danger. Visit it for what you need.