It took 45 minutes to get to the service and the whole thing only lasted 25 minutes.
However, these are the thoughts I noted from the moments under the shade of the redwoods up at Joaquin Miller Park in the Oakland hills.
Today I am blue water flowing forcefully around rocks and branches of trees. I am blue dreaming like the sky peeking through the redwoods as I lay on the red brown dirt.
This place is heaven. This place is a temple, a church, a prayer service smelling of oak, sequoia, eucalyptus and earth. This electric buzz of insects, the intermittent chirping of brids, the distant hush of cars on Skyline Blvd are all a part of it.
This green canopy protects me, preserved in my mind's weakness like a shield.
I am this, not just part of it, not just connected to it through sun and air, but I am this thick gnarl of branches and spiral of limbs feathered in green, the silence and the stillness when I stop to listen.
The vast range of redwoods and then the climb to the hard granite beds, those same elements embraced that fallen plane, looked upon the metal, bones and flesh as one of its own, sat in stillness after the loudness, the rush of wind hopefully softening to watch the wreckage break, the strange lack of motion on the sharp sunlit slope.
Today is a day of prayer at Vicki's, a prayer for the continuation of life, an appreciation for the sun and planet, a prayer to recognize the strength of Vicki and Ned's son and help make harmony where there is turmoil and discord.
I chose to find my own place of quiet appreciation today and after less than a half hour on the Big Trees and Sequoia Bay View trail, I found a place I will visit again, a place that transports and then grounds me in a way to be in the world, keeping my brother with me all the time. I am stronger as a result.
Thank you blue water tears. Thank you blue sky. Thank you earth. I am still angry at you, wind, but I will learn to respect and accept you in time.
