There is a rock in western North Carolina surrounded by fences and interpretive signs.

Located on unceded Cherokee land, Judaculla Rock is the largest petroglyph in the eastern United States with over 1,000 symbols carved into the flat soapstone surface.

I first experienced Judaculla Rock in 2017, on the afternoon of the total lunar eclipse, two weeks before my 40th birthday, standing on a hill above the rock as day became night. Maybe it was the impact of suddenly being surrounded by stars or my renewed awareness of mortality but I felt something I can only describe as magic on that day, in that spot.

When I returned a few months later I was struck by the interpretive signs, fences, and walkways - all designed to frame and situate my encounter in a particular way; a way that privileges the written word, preservation, and private property. Whose knowledge makes a place knowable? Whose boundaries matter?

Is there a way to show the magic I feel present without redoubling the hegemony these interpretations imply?