Help! I'm Lost in Sumidero Canyon.

I'm spending this week in a deep, long gash across a dramatic mountainous landscape called Sumidero Canyon. The Rio Grijalva, on which Hernan Cortez had his first skirmish with natives and met his indigenous mistress Malinche, rushes thru on its way to the coast. Our fiberglass craft bitch-slapped the river spirit for miles, which can surely come to no good.

Crocodiles with razor teeth and spiked tails smiled at us from the banks, while spider monkeys slouched lazily over jutting limbs. City-sized rock slabs, inhabited by thousands of vultures, rose diagonally out of the water. Sheer walls, from which defeated tribespeople jumped rather than surrender to conquistadors, towered over me filling the sky.

Holy shit, God's footprints are big! Yet, if I don't want Him to step on me like a cockroach, He says I have to love these other roaches He calls my neighbors. They're so repulsive compared to my fine roach self. In fact, ladies, I'm the guy who put the cock in cockroach. Since I'm not a humble man, I guess I have to be a continually-humbled man. Know what I mean?

I'm here taking notes for my second book Fresh Wind & Strange Fire. I'm not lost geographically but spiritually. The days of my life are flowing by like the water thru this ancient chasm. How do I capture the awe I feel and the grandeur I see, for people who may never visit this place but may read about it long after my arrogant little droplet has merged into the sea? My promise to you and the One wearing the canyon-sized boots: I'll do this writing thing with all I have to give. Thanks for reading my stuff.