A vast white salt flat stretching to the horizon under a deep blue sky with sweeping clouds. Tiny human figures stand far away on the right, and a small kite flies in the sky, emphasizing the scale and openness of the landscape.

Where the Sky Becomes Larger Than Me

Summer 2022 · Film Photography/Nikon FM2
Bonneville Salt Flats, Utah

A vast white salt flat stretching to the horizon under a deep blue sky with sweeping clouds. Tiny human figures stand far away on the right, and a small kite flies in the sky, emphasizing the scale and openness of the landscape.

2022 marked USANA’s 30th anniversary.

Because of the pandemic, I attended alone this time.

I had been to several conventions before — the 20th, the 25th —
bigger, louder, more crowded.
This one felt quieter.

But somehow, more personal.

I’ve always wanted to visit the Salt Flats.
It’s the kind of place that feels too far, too inconvenient —
two hours each way just for one stop.
When traveling with a group, it never makes sense.

So this time, being alone,
I simply drove.

A small road trip just for myself.

When I arrived, everything opened up.
White ground. Blue sky. No edges.

The world suddenly felt enormous,
and I felt very small inside it.

In the distance, I noticed a father flying a kite with a child.
Such a simple moment.
So ordinary.
And yet, in a place like this, it looked almost unreal.

I thought —
unless you live nearby,
how often do you get to see a sky this wide?

Sometimes solitude gives us these gifts:
space, silence, and the courage
to go a little farther than we planned.

That day, I didn’t just attend a convention.

I came here
to remember how big the world is,
and how small — and free — I can be inside it.