The Sierra Nevada
Christmas Morning my mind still stuck in the sierras.
Sipping coffee on a slow cold winter morning trying to capture the moments slipping away from my flawed memory.
Pacific Coast Highway
Big Sur River
The Yosemite Valley
Calaveras forest
Lake Tahoe
Muir Woods
San Francisco
I've never experienced such a pure pine scent then walking through the Sierras.
I've never experienced such beauty standing in a valley surrounded by the most wonderful granite.
I've never experienced trees so giant, so old.
And there is always for whatever reason such a special place in my heart for the city of San Francisco.
The in between of grad school. Finished another semester, not yet student teaching. This adventure was everything I wanted and so much more than I could have prepared for.
Those early sunsets.
Waking too early my body set to Eastern time
Catching every gorgeous sunrise with tear filled eyes as the beauty that surrounded me was slowly revealed from the crisp silent snowy campsite
heating up morning coffee using all the interesting camping gear Matt had, working the smoldering ash into our only source of heat before the day's adventure. Resurrection of new birth through the tiny flame climbing the logs edge through pine needles.
Yosemite Valley, I had no idea.
my heart completely stolen from me.
What a special piece on this pale blue dot in space.
Those giant sequoia
Sequoiadendron giganteum
I could cry thinking about them every time
What magnificent living things!!!
Consider standing beside one and comprehending that this tree this three thousand year old tree is alive. If it has vocal chords the stories it could tell, the people, the cultures, the unknown events that have all passed in this living plant's lifetime. I stood beside something that began its life around the same time tradition says David became king of the Israelites. If locations were different David Could have touched the same living tree I now stand beside touching. The same lifetime to a sequoia.
How strange life on this planet truly is.
California what a beautiful place.
I knew I wanted to see some of these trees but I had no idea they would steal the entire trip from my mind. So much absolute beauty, the ocean, the mountains, the rivers, the lake, and above all of it those trees. I want to find a place deep among them a place completely by myself like John A. Nelder in 1875. To spend my short days standing in awe of such ancient beings.
Those trees, those beautiful indescribable trees.
May I get the chance to walk among them once more before I sleep.
18 miles of San Francisco hills and finally the street lights end the hum of traffic fades, forward there is nothing. Darkness, empty. The wind picks up and the sidewalk ends. Steps get larger as the sand forms around each print.
The Pacific Ocean
I turn around to face the city and there is a full super moon above the glow of the city.
The waves erase all other sounds. I turn back towards the Pacific
Freado and I stand completely still and completely silent
"9 years ago tomorrow" Freado says calmly
I stand facing forward confused and patient.
My mom died 9 years ago tomorrow.
She never made it here.
The Pacific Ocean, my mom wanted to but she never did this.
Freado stepped forward, "I have to dip my toes in the ocean."
I stood there the cold December ocean wind whipping past my body
I'm alive
I'm standing, alive on this planet, how many others never got to see the Pacific? How many others never got to see this day?
I won't always be standing
I knew Matt's mother died of cancer, he's talked about it before but on our walk back to the subway station I'd never heard him talk about her so much. I'd never heard him talk about the aftermath. How as a teenager he could hear his father crying alone in his bedroom at night, how his siblings dealt with the loss. Just the other night I had complained to him about my family. How uncomfortable, silent, political, and unemotional my family is. It was relaxing in the strangest way to listen to him talk as we limped with blistered heels and chafed groins up and down the beautiful city of San Francisco.
And here I find myself, in Wauseon again. Sitting between my mom and my aunt feeling anxiety at the Christmas Eve service at the church. Silence in the living room. Why do I feel like this around my own family? If this isn't home where is it?
I want to drive back to Columbus and soak in the tub.
I want to stand in Calaveras until my bones are dust.
Christmas 2016
Josh Garrels - The Light Came Down
Christmas Morning my mind still stuck in the sierras.
Sipping coffee on a slow cold winter morning trying to capture the moments slipping away from my flawed memory.
Pacific Coast Highway
Big Sur River
The Yosemite Valley
Calaveras forest
Lake Tahoe
Muir Woods
San Francisco
I've never experienced such a pure pine scent then walking through the Sierras.
I've never experienced such beauty standing in a valley surrounded by the most wonderful granite.
I've never experienced trees so giant, so old.
And there is always for whatever reason such a special place in my heart for the city of San Francisco.
The in between of grad school. Finished another semester, not yet student teaching. This adventure was everything I wanted and so much more than I could have prepared for.
Those early sunsets.
Waking too early my body set to Eastern time
Catching every gorgeous sunrise with tear filled eyes as the beauty that surrounded me was slowly revealed from the crisp silent snowy campsite
heating up morning coffee using all the interesting camping gear Matt had, working the smoldering ash into our only source of heat before the day's adventure. Resurrection of new birth through the tiny flame climbing the logs edge through pine needles.
Yosemite Valley, I had no idea.
my heart completely stolen from me.
What a special piece on this pale blue dot in space.
Those giant sequoia
Sequoiadendron giganteum
I could cry thinking about them every time
What magnificent living things!!!
Consider standing beside one and comprehending that this tree this three thousand year old tree is alive. If it has vocal chords the stories it could tell, the people, the cultures, the unknown events that have all passed in this living plant's lifetime. I stood beside something that began its life around the same time tradition says David became king of the Israelites. If locations were different David Could have touched the same living tree I now stand beside touching. The same lifetime to a sequoia.
How strange life on this planet truly is.
California what a beautiful place.
I knew I wanted to see some of these trees but I had no idea they would steal the entire trip from my mind. So much absolute beauty, the ocean, the mountains, the rivers, the lake, and above all of it those trees. I want to find a place deep among them a place completely by myself like John A. Nelder in 1875. To spend my short days standing in awe of such ancient beings.
Those trees, those beautiful indescribable trees.
May I get the chance to walk among them once more before I sleep.
18 miles of San Francisco hills and finally the street lights end the hum of traffic fades, forward there is nothing. Darkness, empty. The wind picks up and the sidewalk ends. Steps get larger as the sand forms around each print.
The Pacific Ocean
I turn around to face the city and there is a full super moon above the glow of the city.
The waves erase all other sounds. I turn back towards the Pacific
Freado and I stand completely still and completely silent
"9 years ago tomorrow" Freado says calmly
I stand facing forward confused and patient.
My mom died 9 years ago tomorrow.
She never made it here.
The Pacific Ocean, my mom wanted to but she never did this.
Freado stepped forward, "I have to dip my toes in the ocean."
I stood there the cold December ocean wind whipping past my body
I'm alive
I'm standing, alive on this planet, how many others never got to see the Pacific? How many others never got to see this day?
I won't always be standing
I knew Matt's mother died of cancer, he's talked about it before but on our walk back to the subway station I'd never heard him talk about her so much. I'd never heard him talk about the aftermath. How as a teenager he could hear his father crying alone in his bedroom at night, how his siblings dealt with the loss. Just the other night I had complained to him about my family. How uncomfortable, silent, political, and unemotional my family is. It was relaxing in the strangest way to listen to him talk as we limped with blistered heels and chafed groins up and down the beautiful city of San Francisco.
And here I find myself, in Wauseon again. Sitting between my mom and my aunt feeling anxiety at the Christmas Eve service at the church. Silence in the living room. Why do I feel like this around my own family? If this isn't home where is it?
I want to drive back to Columbus and soak in the tub.
I want to stand in Calaveras until my bones are dust.
Christmas 2016
Josh Garrels - The Light Came Down