EDITOR'S LETTER

My dog doesn't know what day it is. And doesn't seem to care. She doesn't care about John, either. He's the postman who knocks on my front door every afternoon. Charli has no interest in John. Or anyone else who knocks — ambivalence makes her useless as a watchdog. She's like that with just about everything. She doesn't bark or bury bones or jump in the pool. She won't play fetch or go after a pair of slippers. Nothing seems to interest my dog. Or worry her. The only thing she cares about is sleeping at the feet of her people. She's a lover who likes to be close.

I envy the nonchalance in Charli's world. She's not affected by headlines or deadlines or the pressure of trying to remember how to do eighth grade math. Road rage, playground bullies, excessive heat warnings, leaky roofs, lockdown alerts, biopsies, microbursts, wildfires ... like pushing a hippopotamus up a fire pole, the stress of the day-to-day can be overwhelming and hard to manage. To cope, we tell ourselves there are others who have it so much worse. There are. And we try to think about the big picture. Either by looking up to the heavens or slipping away into the wilderness. Mother Nature gives us perspective.

"Those who contemplate the beauty of the earth find reserves of strength that will endure as long as life lasts," Rachel Carson wrote. "There is something infinitely healing in the repeated refrains of nature — the assurance that dawn comes after night, and spring after winter."

Those refrains are easy to find. They're at city parks and waysides along the road. They're in national forests and arboretums. They're up on the Mogollon Rim and down in the Sonoran Desert. They're in the mountains and meadows and riparian areas. And they're at natural wonders like the Grand Canyon. It's winter at the Canyon now, my favorite season there, but it's spectacular any time of year. Or any time of day. And the big-picture perspective is always the same. No matter when you go or where you stand, it's impossible to look out and not feel insignificant. Ellen Merzinger-Keating knows the feeling. She's a friend who flew in from Munich.

"I was on the North Rim the first time I saw the Grand Canyon," she told me. "And I was struck by its sheer, untouched beauty. Standing there, I felt small, but in a comforting way, like a reminder of my place in something far bigger. The layers of rock, holding millions of years of history, put everything into perspective. I felt a deep awe for nature — its resilience, its beauty. It was as if time had paused, letting me see the world in its rawest form. That view was timeless and grounding, something I'll never forget."

Dee Dee O'Connell, another European, feels it, too.

"Looking out over the Canyon is a humbling experience," she says. "It's impossible to comprehend how vast it is, in the same way the mind is unable to fathom the infinity of the universe when you look up at the stars. I think this would be true for anyone, but it's especially so coming from a small place like the United Kingdom - Arizona is larger than the whole of the U.K., and the Grand Canyon is almost as long as the U.K. is wide. We aren't used to seeing landscapes on this scale. It changed my perspective forever."

Dee Dee lives in east London, on the banks of the River Lea. We met serendipitously. And started talking. I was amazed by how many places she'd visited in Arizona more than most of the people who live here. Like so many explorers, the Grand Canyon was at the top of her list.

"The first time I visited Arizona was a few years ago," she says. My now-husband, Ian, and I went on a last-minute secret trip to Vegas, with the plan to get married on Valentine's Day and take a trip to the Grand Canyon. Seeing the Canyon and the Colorado River absolutely blew our minds, and it was the best day of my whole life. Back in London, I couldn't stop thinking about it. It was even in my dreams. I'm thinking about it all the time, every day."

There's no hyperbole in what she says. I've heard it in her voice. She genuinely loves to be there. And being there is good for her. And anyone else who needs a break from the headlines and deadlines and eighth grade math.

Studies show that being in nature is beneficial to our mental well-being. "Stress stimulates our sympathetic nervous system, which is responsible for increasing our blood pressure, heart rate and blood sugar," says Jodie Smith, a nurse practitioner at Mayo Clinic. "One study showed that exposure to nature can regulate the sympathetic nervous system in as little as five minutes. This means we can get an almost immediate benefit from stepping outside."

And the benefits are compounded at a place like the Grand Canyon. I haven't been there in months, but my sympathetic nervous system is suggesting it's time. So, I'm headed to the South Rim in a few weeks for a hike to Phantom Ranch. And in May I'll be back for a rim-to-rim hike, where I'll be liberated from the ping, ping, ping of the smothering grid.

It's hard to find words to describe how it feels to be in the Canyon. Photos struggle, too. You have to experience it for yourself, with all five senses. You have to look out at the colossal spectacle of the canyon walls, hear the long whistled kreee of a Swainson's hawk overhead, breathe in the subtle fragrance of the golden columbines, feel the contrast of rock and sand along the creeks, and taste the high-desert air. There are times when I wish I had the ambivalence of my dog, but not when I'm at the Grand Canyon. It's my place. Here's hoping you have a place, too. And you get to visit soon.

Meantime, on behalf of everyone at Arizona Highways, I wish you all a safe and happy new year.