Respecting the Sacred: Leaving Some Places to the Imagination
From a vantage point in the piñon-juniper woodland near Cortez, Colorado, Sleeping Ute Mountain appears as a series of peaks. Locals liken its topography to a chief lying on his back—its highest summit resembling a head pointing skyward, with the lower peaks mimicking arms crossed over the chest. However, despite its inviting allure, this mountain is a place I will never tread. [Managed by the Ute Mountain Ute Tribe](https://www.utemountainutetribe.com/images/THPO%20information/UMTU%20CRMP.pdf), Sleeping Ute Mountain is sacred and access is largely restricted to nontribal members.
The mindset in the American West is often one of entitlement to our public lands, thanks to environmentally-conscious ancestors who chose to create national parks and forests rather than divide the land into private homes and cities. It is uncommon for us to be told something is off-limits. We resist No Trespassing signs and private property hindering our access to public lands where we bike, hike, and camp.
While it’s evident that a mountain could benefit from being largely inaccessible, the personal benefit of such restrictions is less obvious. Often, places we cannot reach become the most powerful in our imagination. There is a need to remember that there are things we cannot see or touch that still shape our lives. We need to exercise our imagination, practice humility, and accept that there are some mountains we will never climb.
As someone who moved to Ute lands from elsewhere, I often find myself reflecting on [Rebecca Solnit’s description of the particular shade of blue](https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/293600/a-field-guide-to-getting-lost-by-rebecca-solnit/) seen in distant horizons—she named it the color of desire. We may long to reach those far-off peaks, but once we get there, they’re more or less the same color as the place we left behind. Solnit proposes that we view desire not as a need to be fulfilled but as a feeling in itself, an itch that doesn’t necessitate scratching.
Attempting to climb Sleeping Ute won’t bring me closer to the elusive hue I seek. It would only turn the mountain into just another peak I’ve conquered. But as a mountain I can only admire from a distance, it becomes a symbol of all I can never fully understand or conquer—a reminder of the wisdom in stillness. Its inaccessibility only enhances its allure. We don’t need to visit every star in the night sky to appreciate their collective beauty and their contribution to the wholeness of our world.
Original Story at www.sierraclub.org