It’s impossible to wrap it up in one view, and this is only a small section of the whole lifetime stretching span of it. All that depth and breadth and the winding Colorado way below with mesas and buttes and all the tumbling gaps and rising flats with the north rim smiling back at us from way over the other side.

And where do you even begin to look into this hollowness which is all yours with the constant river running through its guts at the essential base of it? How can you even begin to understand when its very beginnings are so unknown and its ends so far off? I guess all you can try to do is gather your wits and your bits from the spot you get to stand on - the spot there for you - and breathe in your part of the whole. One little metonymic part of the canyon existing in you, with one part of you in the forever-reaching canyon.

We pay a quarter and go up a nearby tower and have a look from higher up and the view hardly changes at all and how could it ever when the very canyon is so endless? What does it matter how far we go or to what distances we look? The only way we’ll ever really gain a different perspective of the whole big universe of it is if we change the way we look - if we change ourselves - which begins a whole other universe of timeless looking.

There’s an open deck on one level of the tower with little slots you can look into and see the canyon reflected upside down. And even from this flipside view the enormity of it is unfathomable with the only real difference being that you now also notice the never-ending blueness of the sky.