Mt. Tam rises from sea level to over 2,200 feet just north of the Golden Gate.
From its peak you can see the entire bay area, the Pacific to the west, the beginnings of the Sacramento River to the east, and far past it to the foothills of the Sierra’s. Far to the south past San Jose. North into Sonoma County beyond Petaluma on the 101. You can follow the fine line of the north coast past Point Reyes and on.
There is a lookout at its peak: a very small building with a 360 view.
There was a time I carried Matt the 20 minutes from the parking lot to the top. Kim had scurried up next to us. I believe my brother Thomas was with us.
The watcher in the lookout at that time was someone I knew from Skywalker and he invited us in. He showed us around and the kids stared out at the vastness in amazement.
Later outside we watched as the last rays of light disappeared over the ocean. We then noticed people turning to the east and so did we. It took a few moments but then our eyes widen as the bright orangeness of a full moon appeared on the horizon. As it rose it seemed we could almost touch it.
We stayed as long as we could, until there was just enough light to see our way down.
It seems beauty can come at times when least expected. The full moon is something that’s not hard to see. But when it casts its shadow over leaves or through trees it sometimes becomes abstract in black and white.
Maybe these are times when the eye looks for something different. Or maybe it is the mind that searches for the abstract, which, it seems, would lead to thought and maybe untold understanding.
From the multitude of stars that can be seen from the tops of mountains to the stars as they disappear over the fine line of the horizon in the Northern Sahara is beauty in its grandeur.
But maybe there is beauty less easily seen. Maybe in daily life eyes become focused on daily living and lose the abstract for a while.
But it would seem to make sense that the mind never does. Maybe our minds are lying dormant as we let our eyes tell us who and what we are.
It seems we live our lives as individuals separate from each other, but maybe the opposite is true. That maybe we are all joined with some sort of invisible cord that makes us all one.
Yes!
ReplyDeleteEvery child knows that play is nobler than work.
ReplyDelete-Cormac McCarthy
I'm curious about the invisible chord.... I'd been thinking about my parents all week long. I kept thinking about calling them, but didn't. Then, finally today I called home, simply because that feeling would not go away. Turns out my father was very sick all week. Did I know something was wrong with him deep down within my soul? Am I connected to him in a way that would give me a "feeling" that I needed to connect with him because he was suffering? Why did I think about them all week otherwise, while knowing of nothing about the very difficult week he was experiencing? It runs out he had shingles. That's really BAD. He'd gone to the local hospital and they mis-diagnosed it. Then, went to the Mayo clinic where they diagnosed it and got him on an antiviral, as appropriate. Now he improving and feels better. But, I still got some sort of message to call home this week.....I think this is the kind of stuff, beauty even, that we tend to miss when we are zipping through life too quickly. :)
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