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In Loving Memory

Stay Wild

Words by Jamie Swick // @jamieswick

Photo by Randy P. Martin // @randypmartin

You’re standing at the crest of a vista. You peer left and every shade of blue is churning before you—cerulean, slate, abyssal blue—alive, intimidating, demanding your attention with a graceful roar that tempts you to take a few steps, just a few, closer to the edge. From your right comes a muggy sweet smell, a twisted patch of juniper trees perfuming your skin that’s standing up from an offshore breeze. And in front of you is a hunched, fragile old woman. With tired eyes she is peering out to sea, just like you, watching patiently. While weathered, she is stoic, as if she has been there for a million years waiting for someone to return.

Her million years are actually 18 million years. That’s a long time to stand tall against nature’s throes. Last year a group of people pushed this frail old woman over, killing her immediately, a shattered lump left in her wake. They destroyed eons of nature’s miraculous work in a dangerous-to-reach yet marvelous icon that many of us have found solace in for decades. 

In her absence, let us remember the wonder of our time spent in nature, the radiating humility of this delicate earth, and all the joy it nourishes our spirits with. Let’s share love for this old woman through stories. Tell them to strangers and loved ones alike. Tell them to the stars and sea and birds above. We are all in this together.