Now that we were heading back toward the West Coast, truly “wandering,“ but definitely not lost, we decided to search out the Bighorn Mountains in Wyoming.
We passed into “fracking country” in North Dakota on our way. Barren hills, marked by plumes of natural gas burn off, reminded me of a Lord of the Rings glimpse of Mordor.
Knowing we were benefiting from whatever was going on beneath those rolling hills to extract the fuel that powered our gas-guzzling tow vehicle, engendered a real case of cognitive dissonance for me.
I wanted to think judgy thoughts about fracking; but I was benefiting from the cheap gas of North Dakota. I couldn’t do anything about my discomfort but transmute my feelings into quiet prayers for countryside, the economy, and for the people who lived and worked there.
I wanted to get away as fast as I could from the squirmy, tummy-cramping feelings generated by benefiting from a process I’ve never read anything positive about, except for its effectiveness in extra…
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