And we wait on the weather tomorrow. I try to think the last time the next day’s weather dictated so much of the day, when it held so much importance to a mission. We hope to sell my grandparents’ car tomorrow, and it requires decent weather to make the pass to Denver.

Such reminders roll into my consciousness as I stay here in Battlement Mesa, among the mountains and fields. It’s a different lifestyle. I sit reading Calvin and Hobbes with my grandfather, talk of times gone by with my grandmother, and watch the weather go by across the mesas out the window.

It’s a jolt to my firm ground, a warning to my subconsciousness: we are privileged to live out on this rock, and any tribal guidance is warmly welcome against the cold of the elements. A soft Californian, I see the pathway ahead of the human race. It is one of difficult decisions, and integrity if we are to survive and prosper. We can change the world, we just have to see it.