Piedras Blancas, California Central Coast

Miles and miles of rolling hills fenced in by coastal mountains on one side and the endless Pacific
on the other. The deep green grasses bow and bob to the music of the pressing wind which has carved and contorted the stunted, sparse Monterey cypresses which make their home in this wide, bolt of spring-time emerald ribbon.

The undulating blue-green sea teeming with so much life glows as if lit from within. It crashes against the dark rocks and bluffs and islands, with willful ferocity as if to keep the crumbling land from invading and stealing its jeweled secrets. Sand dunes and driftwood, the detritus of battles won and lost, won and lost. Each grain of sand, each bit of wood, each blade of grass, each roiling wave, each sea bird and mammal glow with the light of Being.

How can I look away?
How can I leave this world?
How can I re-turn to stone?

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