I am made of mountains.

I am made of mountains.

My nephew asks to have this book read to him again, and I wonder whether he loves the pictures, the words, or just the way his mom’s voice vibrates in his ears as he sits between her legs.

I found this book as I walked the floor of Townie Books in Crested Butte, Colorado last autumn. The wind-blown hair, the mountain peak, the title all caught my attention and pulled me in. As I stood there flipping through, I marveled at the pages that served as tributes to our national parks.

“I am made of mountains. Whole worlds rest on my shoulders. I rise a peek and cannot speak, filled up with sky and boulders.”

For Rocky Mountain National Park. 

“I am made of river. My currents carve through rocks. Stop to listen and you’ll hear… each layer of me talks.”

For Grand Canyon National Park. 

A tribute to our lands, to our protected vastness.

The vastness that lives in all of us.

When I picked the book off the shelf and bought it for my niece and nephew as a Christmas present, I did so as a way to share my love of the land with them. I did so with the hope that they could see these illustrated places and feel that they are connected to them. That when they get to visit one day, they will feel like they belong there.

When I hear my sister read this book to my nephew now, months later, I am struck with a new sadness.

Because there is so much hate around us. There are so many people that are suffering, being ripped from their families, being ripped from this land.

And it hurts, deep inside of me.

Because it doesn’t make any sense. My mind can’t wrap itself around the evil, the hatred.

We are all just flesh and blood. We are all made of the same matter and elements.

The same matter and elements as each other; the same matter and elements as the rivers, the mountains, the desert sand, the Juniper trees, the Evergreens, the swamps, the lilacs, the ladybugs, the wolves.

We are all living on stolen land; we are all living on land that’s here for us.

Land that’s here for us to coexist on—with each other and with the rivers, the mountains, the desert sand, the Juniper trees, the Evergreens, the swamps, the lilacs, the ladybugs, the wolves.

I am made of mountains, and so are all of us.

I don’t know how to properly voice that our differences are what make this world complete.

The Rocky Mountains and the Grand Canyon couldn’t be more opposite—one standing tall and cold, the other carving deep and warm. And yet, they both offer something worth preserving, something worth witnessing.

The same is true for humans on this planet. We offer variety, we offer multitudes of being.

Except the mountains and the canyons don’t hate. The mountains don’t call the canyons shallow. The canyons don’t call the mountains prideful. They coexist in complement to each other.

Each a national treasure in their own right.

they share their space with each other; they share their space with us.

Perhaps if humans could learn from them, there would be a day where we could all agree that there is no “superiority.” On that day, there would suddenly be space for differences. We could celebrate variety instead of rewarding homogeneity.

We could lead with curiosity.

We could stop being obsessed with what’s “mine” and what’s “yours” and realize that all of it—and none of it—belongs to all of us.

When will we stop and listen? When will we try to hear the layers that all of us have to speak?

I hope that my nephew grows up knowing that he is made of mountains, and so are all of his neighbors.

I hope that those who lead with hate will be humbled by what it means to be flesh and bone. Elemental.

I hope that one day we all come to know the spirit of each rock, tree, and creature around us.

I hope that one day we will know what it means to be part of this Earth, instead of owners of it.

xx

Court.