A Moment at the Great Wall

I'm a dreamer. I'm constantly thinking about what's around the next corner, making plans (or "schemes" as Don calls them) and looking for possibilities. I consider this one of my strengths, and yet it is also a weakness. Sometimes I find that I'm looking too far ahead, not appreciating the present, and undervaluing what I already have. So when I have an experience that grounds me firmly in the present, it makes a big impression on me.

I can only name a few such occasions. One was standing in London's Hyde Park with Don and the kids, our first trip overseas together as a family. We couldn't believe that we were actually there with our three young children. Another would be any time I see the Grand Canyon. It humbles me, makes me feel small, yet amazes me that I'm part of something so large. It puts me in my place.

This trip to the Great Wall was just such an experience. I had been to the wall before; three years ago I went there with another teacher, a friend of mine, for a teacher exchange program in China. The wall was crawling with tourists, and our tour guide was hounding us to keep our visit short. It was great, but I knew I needed to go back to see it differently.

And this trip was entirely different. The few tourists at that part of the wall went east, and we went west. We pitched our tents in an original watch-tower with no roof. We spent almost 24 hours absolutely by ourselves, just the wall, the hills and us. As dusk approached, we watched the sky glow orange behind the next tower. We slept with the tower walls around us and the stars for our roof. We woke as the sun and the wall met at the horizon. The entire time I was in awe of our surroundings and the solitude. And most of all, I was grateful that we were experiencing it together.

It was and entire day of being in the moment, and not wanting the moment to end.