If you let fear of consequence prevent you from following your deepest instinct, then your life will be safe, expedient and thin.
Katharine Butler Hathaway

I write this while less than 50 feet from the rim of Meteor Crater. It is magnificent; words cannot describe. I feel an explosion of emotions within my soul. I want to cry... and I do... and I am unsure as to why.

I walked to the top observation deck and wandered off about 50 feet where there is no guard or fence. I am face to face with the crater. Below me is nothing but a 400 feet drop... certain death to those less certain of their footing. The air is clean and quiet. I hear the voices of gleeful children and the trail guide 500 feet away and the people at the bottom of the crater, more than a mile distant. And I want to cry.

I walk to the lower observation deck and read of the history and of the people who have cared for this site. And the tears start, and I don't know why. This is just a hole in the earth, uncountable ones exist throughout our solar system alone, but at this one, I cry.

After snapping a few photos, I start walking back to the parking lot. A crow, probably the largest one I have ever seen flies overhead. It lands on the building, not more than 20 feet away. It looks right at me, crowing and flapping its wings. Why can humans not be more like birds; flying where they please, enjoying life in a way nature intended. Why do we create such artifices to impede our own happiness, and why do we allow other's artifices to build on our own?

The crow turns its tail to me and calls several more times as if to say, 'pay attention.' It turns its head and looks right down at me, calling, I hear the words, 'follow me.' It extends its wings and glides down from its precipice. Glides down and lands directly in front of my car.

Maybe there is more to the universe than we can perceive. Maybe we simply need to open our minds.