To be happy. In Yellowstone.

When traveling, I'm always looking for solitude. Yes, peace. Contentment. Tranquility. Even when mixed in. With hundreds or thousands of tourists. I isolate myself from the crowds. Of course, I try to matriculate. With the natives. The locals. In order to catch the flavor. The vibes. Something to glamorize. In my soul. In my being. Dispensing with my camera. Wondering why I even own one. Better to record the meaningful stuff directly into the depths of my photographic memory. I'm sitting on a rock. Under a pine tree. On the edge of a gentle-flowing stream. In Yellowstone National Park. My companions, amore Cristina and friend Giovanna, have wandered away. To see gushing geysers. The big attraction. Where the tourists flock. I can settle for less. Which really is more. Alone. Away from other people. A break. A respite. I'm watching the rays of brilliant sunlight bounce off the water. In dazzling and sparkling fashion. Give me this setting. Forever. I don't need other stuff. Not even a spectacular geyser. I can settle for smaller and lesser stuff. Better to be absorbed in my precious moment. No need to explore the rest of the world. Because this little spot. In space. In time. Is sufficient. I need no more. To be happy. In Yellowstone. --Jim Broede
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