Ok, I realize that the purpose of the blog is primarily to be informative in one way or another, usually in a specific direction. This is not the case today. I have a LOT of thoughts wandering through my mind right now. I think there are a number of things I could discuss with aptitude.
First, I think, sunsets; When was the last time you REALLY watched a sunset? It was probably way too long ago. I know it has been for me. I was thinking earlier about the most beautiful sunset I ever saw. It’s really hard to share a sunset, but I think I am going to give it a try. It was in the desert. It was in my early days of wandering. I was in Arizona, and there was this one particular evening that stands out in my mind.
The perfume of the desert was gently blowing all around me. There were some flowers in bloom not too far away. The desert also carries a wonderful sandy musk scent in the evening when the cool breezes sweep down from the high places, daring to grace the warm evening with a slight chill. I could, off in the distance hear the baying of a coyote. The sun had already sunk well below the horizon, but what stays with me are the awe inspiring colors that spoke of a God who knew what true beauty was, and selected whom to share the most spectacular with.
I had been walking the better part of the day, and was seated on a warm rock looking to the west. A thin sliver of silver, riding the horizon, as far as the eye could see, spread out well past my periphery. Running heavenward from that thin band of silver was an even thinner band of golden light. A thin black line rose from the band of golden light, that gradually grew into a luxurious red, shot through with a hundred unnameable shades of red. That red deepened steadily, becoming darker, to a royal purple, and finally settled into the darkness as only the desert can do it.
The sky continued to darken, but with not a cloud in the sky, even under the full moon, there was no trouble seeing. The light given off by a hundred million trillion billion stars was ample to light the night. The soft scent was still there, a desert perfume that was unidentifiable, but lingering on the senses, like the sensual taste of a lover from long ago, but never forgotten. It was a heady air that was all consuming.
There are moments when belief in the Divine is as easy as opening your eyes, ears, and stopping to smell a desert sky in the evening.
Speaking of scents… What is more wonderful than freshly cut grass, just after a light rain? The clean smell of the grass, crisp and sharp in our noses, hinting playfully of summers as a child, laughing and playing, unafraid to get a cut or a bruise. Bravely then would we charge into the fires of hell itself if there was fun to be had at the end of it all. Even as children we were subtly programmed by the Divine. The smell of grass is the way it is, I suspect, according to the divine plan, BECAUSE it will remind us of such a thing.
I love scents, and realize their purposes, but for me it’s all about the visuals. There are images that will stand in my mind for all time. I am grateful that one strong one is something like a sunset. There is another sunset in my mind as I am writing this, and that is from when I first went to Utah. I had never seen Salt Lake City, but had recently graduated from Basic Training and A.I.T. at Fort Bliss in El Paso Texas. I was travelling to visit my mother, looking forward, as well to meeting my Step Father.
It was evening when I first saw Salt Lake City. Darkness was settling on the city, and below me, the lights had started to spread. The building that immediately caught my attention? The Temple. The Angel Moroni was standing on the orb atop the spire, horn held to his lips. The last bit of sunlight was playing on the gold, creating flashing ripples of light that washed up over us. The building itself was lit up, and there was a slightly rosy glow to the building.
It was sunrise the first time I actually saw the New York Skyline. Alas, it was after 9/11, but I got to see the sun rise over New York City all the same. Admittedly I would prefer NOT to ever drive there again. What made that particular sunrise so amazing for me was that the last time I had even SEEN the sun had been two days earlier as it set below the horizon close to Malibu.
I even remember the moment I stepped off the bus at Logan Heights, Ft. Bliss, El Paso Texas. We had just arrived for basic training. I remember looking across a barren desert at a range of ‘hills’ (I still say those were mountains not hills) off in the distance. They were dancing in the heat haze that was over everything. Drill Sergeants screaming at the maggots who had the teremity to joing THEIR army. I remember the sense of unreality that settled about me for all of twenty seconds, before a screaming Drill Sergeant reminded me EXACTLY why I was there.
I remember one image vividly from my first wedding. My first wife had INSISTED we have a bag pipe player instead of an organ. I remember the morning we were to be married. It was in Mountain Brook Alabama, at the Unitarian Church. The bagpipe player we had was standing in the early morning fog, above the church in a parking lot, playing a tune on the pipes. It wasn’t a wedding tune, I am not really sure what the song was, but it was gorgeous.
I went to a Samhain celebration atop Monte Santo in Huntsville Alabama. I remember a lone piper, standing beside a fire, playing a forlorn tune, a tune that echoed back centuries, across the world, and across our collective racial memories. A tune that played not only in your ears, but scoured the back of your soul and reminded you what home was. We had spent the day making masks. Not horrid caricatures of creatures from some over bugeted hollywood movie, but masks with elegance, creativity, and grace. I myself had constructed one using owl and raven feathers. A few gemstones to complement the whole, and it was quite lovely. At dusk, the piper left, and began his tune. One by one, we left, taking our time, gathering our hearts, and our heads, and walked outside, to be greeted and welcomed within the circle. I will not discuss more, for there is a certain line that an observer MUST not cross if he is to be allowed to observe other custom. I will merely state that it was tasteful, elegant, and oddly exhilarating.
Take time, in your busy lives, please. Take time. Smell the roses. Watch a sunset. Watch a sunrise. Hold the person you love and let them know in no uncertain terms just how important they are to you. Call your mother. Talk to an old friend. Take time and slow down. There is a world of beauty, magic, and wonder all around you. You will never even notice it if you don’t slow down long enough.
P.S. Don’t just look at the beauty from the window of your car. You don’t know HOW much you will miss doing that. You may see those roses from the car seat… but how are you going to truly SMELL them? Especially over the stench of car exhaust.
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