Are Bridges Meant for Burning?

Last summer as I was about to walk with family near New Mexico’s Organ Mountains, I noticed two young men leaving the parking lot headed toward the same path we had chosen to walk. Although I hadn’t expected to have the path to myself, I was more than a little put-off to see that one of our fellow hikers was carrying a rifle. What was more disheartening was that he appeared to ignore the totally obvious “No Firearms” sign posted at the trailhead. As they moved quickly ahead of us, our pleasant nature walk was clouded by our hyper-negative fret about red-neck gun lovers who show little regard for rules and for the safety of others. However, despite our misgivings we tried to make the best of our time as we trekked to the waterfall at the end of the trail.

We knew the water might not be flowing in late May, but we expected to find a tree shaded spot at the base where we could sit quietly and enjoy nature. And for several minutes we weren’t disappointed. Then suddenly our solitude was fractured, first by several gunshots and then by loud music coming from the rim. Apparently, these young men had ascended the steep cliff some 50 to 75 feet above and were about to party. Or so we thought.

Then just as we were about to head back down the trail, the music stopped and one of the young men shouted a heart-felt apology to us. He explained that he and his friend were students from New Mexico State making their yearly trek to picnic and swim in the water that fed the falls during the rainy season. He added that he hoped we weren’t frightened by the pops from his “air-rifle” that he brought to discourage any potential rattlesnakes in the area.

With the ice broken and our preconceived prejudices obviously riddled, we spent the next half-hour asking about the falls and the plateau where they stood. They described a cave with a spring fed pool where they planned to swim as well as a small pool near the upper edge of the falls that contained about 10 feet of water. Then they tossed large stones into that pool to cause a small flow of water so we could see where the water flowed during the monsoon season. Finally, we exchanged pleasantries as they went back to their picnic/swim and we headed back down the trail.

This little adventure turned out to be more than a nature trek. Or should I say that like many nature treks, it became a time to rest and restore our inner selves? It not only rekindled our connection with what’s right and good in this world. It reminded our little family that we “liberal open-minded thinkers” might not be quite as open-minded as we want to believe.

Needless to say, the conversation on our return to the car that day had a much different tenor from the one on our trek to the waterfall. You might say that our experience turned the tables on us, reminding us that we all have prejudices. Sometimes the only way to become the person we want to be instead of the person we’re accustomed to being is to muster the courage to burn some bridges.

I’m glad we had the tables turned on us that day. I’m glad we were reminded that faulty first impressions and prejudices permeate all our lives. More importantly, I’m glad we opted to burn a couple of bridges that were connecting us to a place we didn’t want to be. Perhaps Jim Croce was right. Bridges are meant for burning.

…tables are meant for turnin'
And people are bound to change
And bridges are meant for burnin'
When the people and memories
They join aren't the same.
                                                                                                                   "Lover’s Cross,” Song by Jim Croce, 1985.