Feeling the love at Wedding Ring Arch

Wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving. – Kahlil Gibran
The road was snowy, and the temperature 21 degrees. We were on the north side of Elk Ridge, trying to get into Beef Basin by way of Indian Creek.
We had seen scores of cliff climbers and young, hearty campers along Highway 211 West, but as we traveled the dirt road by Bridger Jack Mesa, we encountered fewer and fewer people until finally we were the only ones on the road.
“Did you bring shovels?” I asked my hubby.
“Two for you.”
We passed Cathedral Butte, but on the north side of Horse Mountain, he said, “We could probably make it, but I don’t think we should chance it.” He found a little wider spot in the road and made a three-point turn.
I was disappointed since Beef Basin is rich with Ancestral Puebloan sites and artwork, but I trusted Ted’s judgment.
On our way back, he took a side road toward Salt Creek Canyon.
The track meandered over huge slabs of rock, and since our little Patriot Jeep didn’t have great clearance, Ted parked, and we climbed out.
A light snow fell intermittently. I had brought my green jacket, but no gloves, so my hands soon turned into ice cubes. Kenidee, our mini schnauzer, was shaking like a quakie, perhaps as much from the rough road as the cold.
We put up our hoods, stuck our hands in our pockets, and set out at a brisk pace. Before long, Kenidee was rolling in the snow, barking, and chasing around us like a puppy.
We tramped along the edge of Salt Creek Canyon and gazed into Canyonlands National Park from several rocky overlooks, eventually making our way to Cathedral Point.
The sun shone like a brilliant globe behind the white clouds, and tendrils of snow swept across the terracotta arches and mesas.
We easily spotted Wedding Ring Arch and Kirk’s Arch, but it took some time to find three other arches and a ruin.
“Look at the top of Wedding Ring Arch.” Ted handed me the binoculars.
As I focused on the arch, I could see single rocks arranged to spell the word, “LOVE.”
I don’t know why I was so surprised. After all, it was one of the most romantic arches in Canyonlands, but it seemed strangely synchronistic.
I’d been reading Dr. Gary Chapman’s book, The Five Languages of Love, and thinking a lot about how people felt loved—or unloved—depending on whether their spouse, parents, or friends communicated tenderness in their primary love language, such as words of affirmation, gifts, physical touch, service, or quality time.
Even more than that, though, I’d been conducting an experiment on what some experts call the sixth love language — gratitude.
My mom’s dad and my mom were both obsessive worriers, so I came by my worry gene naturally. I mostly worried about family and friends who were having extreme life challenges.
However, it finally donned on me that all my worrying in the world — up and down Westwater Canyon as I walked Kenidee and throughout the day — didn’t seem to make one iota of difference. It just made me anxious and sad, so I decided to see if I could change my thinking by practicing gratitude.
It’s scientifically documented that gratitude has a myriad of physical and emotional benefits, but can it really change a person’s thinking? In Nina Green’s article, “7 Ways Gratitude Rewires Your Brain: The Science Behind a Powerful Practice,” she lists among the seven, these four that seem most important:
“1) At the heart of gratitude’s power is the ability to activate the brain’s reward system…. This activation releases dopamine, the neurotransmitter often referred to as the ‘feel-good’ chemical;
2) Gratitude helps us tap into one of the brain’s most remarkable features: neuroplasticity, or the ability of the brain to reorganize itself by forming new neural connections;
3) Gratitude has a powerful impact on the amygdala, the brain region involved in processing fear and stress;
4) Gratitude also encourages a growth mindset, which is the belief that abilities and intelligence can be developed through effort and perseverance.”
I’ve practiced gratitude on-and-off during the last five years, but I wanted to up my game. I wanted to change my brain.
Since creating a new habit takes from 18 to 254 days, I decided to craft a gratitude routine based on things I did every day such as walking Kenidee in Westwater. As I traipsed the trails, I brought my mind back from worrying time after time and gave thanks instead.
I haven’t hit the 254-day mark yet, but gratitude is making a difference. For one thing, I’d been worrying so much about the people I loved that I hadn’t recognized the blessings in their lives, more blessings than I ever imagined until I started giving thanks.
Of course, I didn’t stop there. The more I gave thanks for my own blessings, the more they miraculously multiplied.
Two weeks ago, as I stood overlooking Wedding Ring Arch with my hubby and Kenidee, my glasses were smeared with water and my hands frozen, but because my worry chatter had been silenced, the beauty of the landscape was thrown into high relief.
I watched the snow sweeping across the cream- and orange- colored mesas and listened to the ravens calling to each other as they played on the wind. I reached out and took my husband’s cold hand and knew I was blessed.