More below: **
--- In FairfieldLife@yahoogroups.com, TurquoiseB <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> wrote: > > --- In FairfieldLife@yahoogroups.com, "Marek Reavis" <reavismarek@> > wrote: > > > > Turq, excellent, thanks. Your story reminded me that there are > > some folks who backpack or hike at nighttime and in the dark > > without illumination or artifice. I've done it for only very > > short distances but it's really amazing how well and how quickly > > you adapt to lowlight conditions. And if you have anything of a > > moon, that provides an extraordinary illumination. > > I confess to being one of these people. :-) I picked > up the habit from Rama. When we went out into the > desert, we'd head out at sunset, and hike long into > the evenings, sometimes until sunrise. There is little > as odd, and as amazing, as the sound of several hundred > boots walking silently across the sandy floor of a > desert canyon, no flashlights and no talking, medi- > tating the whole time. > > > It was pleasant to imagine an evening in Suave, wandering away > > from the crowds and in the dark, on a private excursion. > > Wandering away from the crowds seems to be what I do. :-) > > > In a similar vein and in the spirit of sharing: I just returned > > from a surf session at one of the local breaks with the elected > > D.A. of the county, a judge, and a pastor of one of the local > > churches; the D.A. is in his mid-40s but everyone else is mid- > > 50s. A couple of other guys were surfing the same break, and > > they were both greybeards, too. > > So cool, and so synchronistic. I spent Bastille Day > watching several episodes of "John From Cincinnati." > I was never much of a surfer myself, but I appreciate > the lifestyle, and the artform. Very Taoist pastime. > > > We got in the water around 7a when there was still quite a bit > > of fog; but the sky was light and it was very cool to be walking > > into the water, then paddling out in this glowing atmosphere and > > the sound of surf, seagulls, and fog horn accompanying. Seals > > kept popping up to check us out. The swell was small but the > > waves were glassy and people caught a fair number. > > > > It's a very laid back surfing scene here, long established and > > mellow. The fog burned off as the morning came on and the sky > > flushed the most exquisite blues as the sun continued to climb. > > > > Just sitting on a surfboard, scanning the horizon for waves and > > waiting for a good set to come through, rising and falling as a > > swell passes beneath you, sunlight dancing and sparkling all > > around, birds wheeling and diving everywhere, a bunch of old > > monkeys in wetsuits (just like yourself) doing and marveling > > at exactly the same things (no matter how long they've been > > surfing) -- for me, that fits in the "mighty fine" experiences > > category. > > Sure sounds that way to me. I think that's why I post > these little scribbles to FFL from time to time. Some > folks seem to only value their spiritual experiences when > they resemble the ones they've read about in spiritual > books or heard about from their spiritual teachers. > Which strikes me as a pity, because there are "mighty > fine experiences" in every moment, if we're just weird > enough to appreciate them. > > Are you gonna teach your granddaughter to surf? I think > that would be a mighty fine experience in itself. > **end** Very cool, the desert night walks you've been on; I can imagine how absolutely fine an experience that must have been. The first time I did a solo backpacking trip was in Death Valley, at a place called Eureka Sand Dunes; it's in one of the long valleys at the north end of DV and the range of dunes (as high as 900') sit at the far southern end of the valley at the very end of 10 miles of washboard. That valley itself is maybe 20 miles or so long and maybe 5-6 miles wide. The banded Panamint Mountains make the eastern border and there's another slightly less striking range that fences the west. There were times where I could see three distinct weather situations going on inside that one valley; clouds massing immediately above the dunes, a storm with dark, thick falling rain that thinned out and evaporated 500 feet above the desert floor maybe 10 miles away, and farther yet, an almost clear sky with just a small herd of clouds throwing dark shadows that ranged quietly over the playa. The one thing that always struck me about DV was how incredibly silent it was; quieter than a room in an empty house, but in a setting that pulled the attention outwards for miles and miles in every direction. Very cosmic, very trippy. (One time when I was walking there I found a large ring, maybe 30' in diameter, made of small stones pushed into the dirt and in the center a single and thoroughly dessicated mushroom that I suspected was a psylocibe; I presumed it was an offering to whatever deity or guardian or lifeforce was dear to some grateful tripper(s); I could totally relate.) Yes, I'd love to teach the granddaughter to surf. That is, of course, based on the assumption that I'll ever really learn to do it myself. There was this one guy out there today who was picking up everything; all he had to do was point his board towards the beach and stand up. Incredible. Perhaps some day, me too. But I'm definitely hooked and they do make wetsuits for toddlers and kids so whenever I can get the new, young family from their place in Seattle down to my neck of the northwest I'll do my best to expose her to the Tao of the waves. I've only watched the first two episodes of John from Cincinnati but like you I felt it had a great, big-hearted, but nicely quirky spirituality to it. Satisfying to see. Thanks. Marek
