Our escapade continued up through the spectrum and into the redwood forest. I was raised in Northern California and some of my most vivid childhood memories are set in that landscape of towering trees and ferns. There is no place I have been that feels more primeval. The big trees are thousands of years old. For me, they are the elders of the planet, holders of sacred space. Perhaps it's the scale and silence, or the slanting shafts of chiaroscuro light that bring me to a place of reverence. The grand cathedrals in Europe fail evoke that feeling in me the way the redwoods do. My ego breaks down and I feel small. I take a vacation from myself and recall the essence of my being. I feel God in that space, forgiving me for getting carried away with distractions. It is like an anchor, where I can tether being and reel myself in from the chaos.
The other place that has always been restorative to me is the beach. Sure, placid island beaches with white sand, azure water and gentle rolling surf are wonderful, but the real deal is more rugged. Powerful surf crashing onto rocks and sending foamy spray into the air is what I crave. The roar of breaking waves and thrum of receding water punctuated by drips and trickles finding their way back to the sea is my kind of music. Where the redwoods represent the enduring inner calm of the soul, a rugged coastline characterizes the pulse of corporeal being. Endless rhythmic struggle of elements against each other. Constant erosion and renewal of our planet and our bodies. It is a temple to impermanence. I make my marks upon the sand knowing they will be erased.
I loved sharing these emotionally charged memories with Elsa. She was no stranger to the coast, but the redwoods were a novelty. The great thing about astral travel is instant communication. It isn't necessary to translate feeling into words and then hope that another can interpret your meaning. Thoughts are conveyed instantly.
The difficulty of putting this experience into words and pictures hinges on interpretation. Symbols are charged with emotions and one never knows where all the land mines are buried. I couldn't capture the effect of redwoods and waves on a 20 by 20-inch canvas. I also couldn't adequately describe my experience with words. I hoped to leave enough open space for readers to insert their own most treasured experiences. Perhaps some will reflect on what their trek through the colors would look like and which threads they would add to the tapestry.
I like to believe that we are evolving toward a pure form of communication. I find it interesting that we use language as proof that we are the most evolved beings on this planet. I must disagree. For me, language sometimes feels like a barrier to good communication. I have heard that dolphins, whales and elephants have certain centers of the brain that are more developed than some of ours. They communicate over great distances without the benefit of a smart phone. Our language development feels like a step in a long journey and my hope is that we are evolving toward a purer form of conveyance.
The other place that has always been restorative to me is the beach. Sure, placid island beaches with white sand, azure water and gentle rolling surf are wonderful, but the real deal is more rugged. Powerful surf crashing onto rocks and sending foamy spray into the air is what I crave. The roar of breaking waves and thrum of receding water punctuated by drips and trickles finding their way back to the sea is my kind of music. Where the redwoods represent the enduring inner calm of the soul, a rugged coastline characterizes the pulse of corporeal being. Endless rhythmic struggle of elements against each other. Constant erosion and renewal of our planet and our bodies. It is a temple to impermanence. I make my marks upon the sand knowing they will be erased.
I loved sharing these emotionally charged memories with Elsa. She was no stranger to the coast, but the redwoods were a novelty. The great thing about astral travel is instant communication. It isn't necessary to translate feeling into words and then hope that another can interpret your meaning. Thoughts are conveyed instantly.
The difficulty of putting this experience into words and pictures hinges on interpretation. Symbols are charged with emotions and one never knows where all the land mines are buried. I couldn't capture the effect of redwoods and waves on a 20 by 20-inch canvas. I also couldn't adequately describe my experience with words. I hoped to leave enough open space for readers to insert their own most treasured experiences. Perhaps some will reflect on what their trek through the colors would look like and which threads they would add to the tapestry.
I like to believe that we are evolving toward a pure form of communication. I find it interesting that we use language as proof that we are the most evolved beings on this planet. I must disagree. For me, language sometimes feels like a barrier to good communication. I have heard that dolphins, whales and elephants have certain centers of the brain that are more developed than some of ours. They communicate over great distances without the benefit of a smart phone. Our language development feels like a step in a long journey and my hope is that we are evolving toward a purer form of conveyance.
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