Heaven Looks A Lot Like Montana

Heaven looks a lot like Montana

A place where the buffalo roam free

Hell must be an open savannah

In a world full of politics and greed

That’s why heaven

Looks a lot like Montana to me

So that is a start to a poem I've begun writing, it just kind of popped into my head while my wife and I were drinking coffee this  morning, but there's a reason for it. so, here is a little more background info.  

I've been on a tiresome journey of self reflection and discovery lately. I don't really know why yet. However, I feel as though I'm about half way through the current cycle of discovery. I say "cycle," because it is my belief that we all go through multiple cyclical states of personal evolution over a lifetime. I don't want to linger on this particular subject too long because it's not really the point of this piece, but I feel a little background is important to the structure that will lead me through writing this piece.  

Anyway, if I try to remember these cycles throughout my lifetime I come to the total of four. Every one of them certainly had there own theme, lesson, and inevitable outcome. Yet, oddly enough, the unyielding uncertainty always "feels" the same. Like waves of realization crashing into your psyche, but some of the waves are tricks, I'm never sure which ones I should ride or which ones will drown me. Somehow, I always make it ashore, but I'm always left with one glaring question.

Who am I?

It's a terrifying door to open, which is certainly not a grand revelation for those of you reading this. This time however, I have finally decided to face this question head on. I've learned a lot, and I still have a long ways to go. I know the beauty or the good inside of myself, confronting the absolute ugliness that I'm capable of was the real revelation.

At any rate, this "cycle" had lead me to think of where I came from. So I've been thinking a lot about my grandparents. Today I was thinking about my grandpa Don.

Now, stick with me. This is partially how Montana gets tied in. Although, as far as I know my grandpa never lived in  Montana. I'm not sure if he ever even visited the state.

So as I was sitting quietly on the couch this morning thinking of grandpa Don, then I remembered a dream I had shortly after he left this world. It was a short dream, so I'll share it with you all.

The dream opens up to me standing in a dirt and stone parking lot, the kind you would see at a trailhead, or perhaps a parking area to your favorite fishing hole. In the parking lot there was an absolute pearl of a Cadillac, the white color of the sedan seemed to light the very scene. Then there was grandpa, standing next to the car. His smile was so wide when he saw me. It seemed to rival even the brilliance of his pearl on wheels. "Been-Jammin!" he exclaimed. much to my delight too, because this was how he always referred to me as it was a cool play of words to my name, Benjamin. Next, I'm standing right in front of him, as his beaming gaze continues downward to meet my eyes. Then he turns upward again, not really fixing his gaze on any one thing. He makes a sweeping motion with his arm, his hand facing palm to the sky and says "well, this is it." Then he turned his gleaming face back to me. He seemed so "complete," but I was confused. "What do you mean?" I asked. He replied,

"This is Heaven."

I started a slow 180 degree observation; I first noticed the towering pine trees coupled with the scent of fresh pine, but somehow sweeter. I moved my gaze to the horizon where at the top of the seemingly everlasting green mountains there was a pastel storm cresting the mountain peaks. It felt, in a way, rejuvenating. I continued looking upward, the pink and blue clouds bled into a brilliant blue sky dotted with small but puffy white clouds. Continuing upward still, the blue faded to bright white until white was all I could see. The last thing I heard was grandpa chuckle pleasantly, that is how the dream ended.

Fast forward a decade plus a few years, Brooke and I are newlyweds, In fact, we're on our honeymoon. We had decided to travel by car; stay the night in Idaho Falls, before continuing our journey to our personal paradise. It was a little cabin in West Yellowstone, Montana. It was only a couple of miles from the Wyoming border, but moreover the entrance to Yellowstone National Park.

We got to West Yellowstone late in the afternoon, as we spent the morning hunting down books, coffee, and lotto tickets. Time didn't matter to me though, because I was on a journey of a lifetime, with my bride, on our way to the rest of our life. So since we got there so late in the afternoon; rather than going straight to the park we decided to check out this little town. This is when Brooke reminded me of the grizzly and wolf preserve in town. I had to see these grizzlies! Brooke on the other hand was more excited about the wolves, yeah she even wanted to take one home. I'm not kidding.

Anyway, as I swung our car around into the nearest parking stall my feeling of excitement was replaced by an overwhelming sense of joy and "oneness." Not all at once, more like a slow saturation. like that of a kids color marker seeping through the back of a page. The snow capped mountain in front of me spawned thoughts of my previously described dream, the tall surrounding pines spurred that train of thought along. Although the parking lot was asphalt, there was a blue and pink storm brewing just above the mountain peak. I thought to myself,

"well, this is it."

That's why Heaven, seems a lot like Montana

To me.