The Tavern at the Edge of the Canyon

I had a dream last night—one of those long, lingering dreams that doesn’t feel like a dream at all, but more like a memory from a life I haven’t quite lived yet. In it, I was hiking again—through the Grand Canyon or somewhere like it. The desert Southwest. Familiar ground. Sacred ground. I’ve walked there in my youth, feeling the stillness between sun and stone, the hush of ancient winds that have been whispering for millennia.

In the dream, my body was older, but still strong. I moved with purpose, with memory, with the kind of weathered ease that comes from doing something you love for a long time. I wasn’t alone. Others were hiking too, though I noticed that not many paused to look at the beauty around them. They hurried forward, eager to reach a known resting place.

The Tavern at the Edge of the Woods

Eventually, we arrived at our destination: a rustic tavern nestled against the cliffs. A place of reunion and celebration. Laughter, stories, applause. We had done it—we had made the journey again. The tavern was crowded with hikers who were pleased with themselves, congratulating each other with the cheerful familiarity of those who have done this many times before.

There was food, though it was strange and unsatisfying—corn mush baked into something like a heavy pancake, devoid of flavor. Everyone else seemed content with it, so I ate too. But it didn’t sit right with me. Not the food. Not the mood.

Because I couldn’t stop thinking about the stars.

I remembered the night before—how the stars had burned with a brilliance you only see in the desert, far from the haze of city lights and distraction. I thought of the flash of silver from the tail of a fox disappearing behind a sandstone ledge. I remembered the sudden hush before a desert storm, and the way the wind carried stories in a language I used to know better.

But no one else seemed to notice.

They had reached the tavern. For them, that was enough. They were done. Again.

It’s Time to Move On to the Next Journey

I tried to speak—to tell them about what they had missed, to remind them that the point of the journey was not just to arrive, but to see, to feel, to wonder. I said there was more. So much more. That this trail, this destination, was only the beginning. That if we kept going, if we made the effort again, we would find something even more beautiful just beyond the next ridge.

But no one listened.

Some smiled politely. Some mocked me. Most just turned away, content with the comfort of arrival and repetition.

I awoke with the ache of that moment still in my chest. A mingling of grief and gratitude. Sadness for what we so easily pass by. Gratitude that I still notice.

A Journey Without End

We live in a world that prizes destinations. Completion. Arrival. We celebrate reaching the milestone, checking the box, building the tavern. We hand each other congratulatory words and call it good. And it is good. Community matters. Rest is holy. But oh, how often we miss the sacred wilderness just beyond our own comfort.

How often do we ignore the stars for the safety of the ceiling?

I am no better than anyone else. I have my resting places too—those well-worn taverns of familiarity where I congratulate myself for progress made. But something in me still stirs when the wind shifts. Something in me still believes there is more. That the journey continues. That the Lord’s course is one eternal round, and we are not meant to grow stagnant in a place we were never meant to dwell forever.

This world is not our home. Not entirely. It is part of a much longer story.

An Invitation to Keep Going

I share this not to judge or to scold, but to wonder aloud with whoever is willing to listen. To say: if you feel what I feel—if you sense that there is more, even when others say the journey is complete—then you are not alone.

Maybe we are meant to walk the longer road. To notice the fox. To pause beneath the stars. To look beyond the crowd and see what lies just past the next ridge.

And when others laugh or shrug, we need not be dismayed. Because the trail continues, and the invitation stands.

Let us go a little farther. There is still beauty to behold, mysteries to unfold, and songs to sing under an ancient sky.

The journey is not over. Not yet. Not ever.

NOTE: The dream was real. The portrayal was done with the assistance of ChatGPT.

Scriptural References:

• Doctrine and Covenants 50:24: “That which is of God is light; and he that receiveth light, and continueth in God, receiveth more light; and that light groweth brighter and brighter until the perfect day.”

  This scripture emphasizes the continuous journey of seeking greater light and knowledge, aligning with the theme of looking beyond complacency.

• 2 Nephi 28:29-30: “Wo be unto him that shall say: We have received the word of God, and we need no more of the word of God, for we have enough! … for unto him that receiveth, I will give more.”

  This passage warns against spiritual complacency and encourages an ongoing pursuit of divine wisdom.

Quotes from Church Leaders:

• President Russell M. Nelson: “When we stop learning, we stop growing. The Lord loves effort, and effort brings rewards.”

  This reinforces the idea that continual effort in our spiritual journey leads to greater blessings.

• Elder Dieter F. Uchtdorf: “Let us resolve to follow the Savior and work with diligence to become the person we were designed to become.”

  A call to rise above mediocrity and strive for our divine potential.

Insights from Denver Snuffer:

• Denver Snuffer has discussed the concept of the Lord’s path being “one eternal round,” emphasizing the perpetual and progressive nature of our spiritual journey. Denver Snuffer

  This perspective aligns with the dream’s message about the continuous pursuit of deeper spiritual experiences beyond familiar resting places.