The Seven-Story Fall That Became a Work of Art
The September sun’s persistence was second only to Chris’s hunger to explore his beloved Arches National Park. His well-worn hiking shoes reveled each step they took, while his geologist heart rejoiced in the endless expanse of red sandstone around him.
For the last hour on the trail, Canaan smiled to herself while listening to her fiancée’s exclamations of awe mixed with mini lessons about the geologic history of the Utah scenery. She was certain Chris would be narrating regardless if she was there or not.
Chris’s upbeat commentary took on a hint of confusion. He had arrived at a cairn marking the trail, which seemed to be directing the hikers up a steep slab of rock known as a fin.
Chris eyeing the fin in Arches near Moab, UT.
After a few rounds of playful banter, Chris decided to scope out the fin while Canaan stayed at its base to hydrate. Chris was usually the last to venture to high places, but he felt compelled to know if they were on the right track.
The air stood still as Chris steadily made his way up the fin. Shaded from the heat, the initial relief he felt soon devolved into unease. The higher he climbed, the more he grasped the scale of the sandstone monument upon which he stood. The churning in his gut told him something was off.
Nearly seven stories above the earth now, Chris reached a precariously narrow portion of the fin. His chipper attitude that had accompanied him throughout the hike was gone. He needed to turn back. Now.
Chris took a few deep breaths as he began to orient his body for the descent. He heard Canaan calling out to him from below, but her words were muffled.
Sweat collected on his hiking poles. His legs grew heavy as lead.
He responded to Canaan, but was unsure if actual words came out. The sandstone below and beside him appeared to buckle as his breath shortened and quickened.
His next step was met with a scream.
Chris has no memory of his 70-foot fall from the fin. He has no memory of who it was that cried out. He has no memory of being stabilized by a trauma surgeon who happened to be hiking with his family nearby, nor any recollection of being helicoptered to the hospital where he was rushed from one surgery to the next.
The last image that lives in Chris’s mind from that day was the cairn at the base of the fin.
LEFT: Chris being prepared for helicopter transport. RIGHT: Chris coming out of the surgical haze in Grand Junction, CO.
Chris fell on September 17, 2020. Over four years and countless hours of rehab later, he is on his feet and hiking. Chris endures pain and physical limitation on a regular basis, but his love of exploring the desert is still intact; as is his ever-positive attitude. Three times now he has returned to the site of his accident to honor the anniversary of that terrifying moment.
To further celebrate the miracle of my dad’s survival, I collaborated with him and my sister on Desert Watch (The Fall). This custom piece was born from an Essence Activation session (learn more), where the three of us co-narrated a freestyle story that reimagined my dad’s accident from a spiritual perspective. We took turns adding unscripted visual elements to the narrative, including a pair of divine hands that softened my dad’s fall, ancestral footprints that blessed the site of the accident with protective energy, and a desert hare that brought a peaceful presence while watching the trauma from afar.
My dad and I with Desert Watch (The Fall). Click any image for a closer look or click here for purchasing options.
Desert Watch illuminates how many people were involved in my dad’s survival and recovery. As the focal point of the piece, the divine hands are a nod to the first responders, the trauma surgeons, the countless friends, and Canaan—all of whom rallied around my dad in a time of dire need. I will forever be grateful to them and the unseen forces that gave my dad another chance.
While I still grieve what happened to my dad, using my artistic gifts to commemorate his journey has been truly healing. Art has always been a means of processing my inner and outer experiences, and creating this piece has helped me more deeply appreciate that my dad is still here.
To learn more about the co-creative process behind Desert Watch (The Fall), check out Living Mythologies: my collaborative art experiences that culminate in custom pieces intimately connected to your inner and outer worlds.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Eric Dean is a seer, artist, guide, and psychotherapist who works and plays in the mountains of Flagstaff, AZ. Eric feels most alive when facilitating co-creative journeys that he transforms into custom art pieces. Earthy and spiritual, Eric finds joy in ecstatic dance, music circles, mountain biking, snowboarding, bouldering, and other adventures with friends.
