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Posts Tagged ‘spiritual energy’

Redwoods – june 10,11?

land of the trees

I am in the redwoods – i made it here – to the land of the ancient giants. The sun is going down and i will soon sleep beneath these trees. As i walked over to the hiker biker camp, here in Jedidiah Smith State Park, where i was a year ago, my right arm began to move – circling on its own. I walked back along the empty road, me and the trees and the ferns below, and it began to move again on its own – a circle – as if dowsing some energies here. I ask, what energies lay in this place, the zone of the trees by the smith river.

I have entered into the land ruled by trees – first the forests inland – as i crossed yesterday from Klamath Falls to Medford, through a land of lakes and trees in mountain zone, and today as i headed out here – but now am among these ancient giants who dwell in this narrow zone. And the hotsprings of this morning, and the town of this afternoon seem so far away in both time and space. On the bus riding through the beautiful land of hills and trees i felt lonely once again – lonely for an area also lived in by human beings – a land where all live harmoniously, I am back in California, but somehow it seems to me more like oregon.

A giant downed tree trunk sprouting life, not only moss, but plants and leaves and other trees growing on it as it decomposes. As it is all around, life growing from decay, life growing from life, a cycle to be completed and renewed.

the cycle of life - from death and decay sprouts new growth and life renewed

Thin soil covers the earth, hiding the rocks beneath, the spirits that have not yet emerged. The high canopy of the redwoods blocks out much of the sky. This zone is contained, life on the surface, between the above and the below – neither too visible, and not the focus, the focus is on the life that sprouts, that is, the colour of green, the colour of plant life form. It forms a bowl or a cocoon, not from the sides like valley walls, but from the bottom and the top, and you cannot see far, the vista is short, for forest surrounds.

I feel small and insignificant beneath these trees towering above, and their girth is wide. I am surrounded by the living, and i am just a small part, i am so small. There is so much here. it presses in. like a city in some ways, but so different, but the pulse is strong, all emit energy and the dance is dense. I feel small in a different way than when i travelled across the deserts a few days ago, on the train, with little life and green to be seen – the earth and the sky so vast, so large, and i, the train, so small, so little breathing life, so little dancing around, the above and below in full force. I longed for the dance of life on the surface, and now it is here, i longed for trees, and now i am in their land.

Redwoods Towering above

I sit beneath the redwoods. although they are not the only trees here, it is their land. The narrow strip in which they still grow, where they remain, looking over the land and us, providing a zone where the other plants may thrive. Where they may thrive beneath the guardians of this land, beneath those that have witnessed so much, who communicate between earth and sky. They are the survivors in this small place, in the groves that have been preserved, only small patches of what once was. For so many have been decimated, in the early days, chopped down with eyes for profit and their use. It feels lonely and heavy. The sun, now giving way to clouds or fog, does not shine through and the eye does not see very far.

I am back to the zone of the familiar- returned to the shore once again. I lost sight of it for a while as i went inland and above, but now i am back, and i am not sure how i feel. The route is known and the intensity is gone. I have come back down, closer to sea level once again, I leave the park, to go to the store, one that i know is there. I have been on this road before, going the other way.

I feel the life around pressing in – as i need not process it all. I know where the bathrooms are, where so much it, and realize that i feel similar to how i felt before, a feeling i had forgotten about when i was out of this locale. Two kids hitch on the road in front, how small and insignificant we appear but in such a different way than in the desert with broad spanses and vistas, and a seemingly lack of life – the bare earth, the sky and us. Here is it the life forms that are much greater – trees and ferns and salal and more – both the earth and sky hard to see, for life abounds, and we are just such a small part of it. Life on the surface that is so visible, all manifesting into form, all manifesting so large and grand.

Ferns are some of the oldest life forms around, and the redwoods are ancient trees, which once lived in so many other locales, their range now limited to this narrow strip of land. Here ancient forms are still alive, ancient life continuing on into the present, living in the here and now – not merely emerging from rocks and stone. All becomes manifested into the 3D. I feel the density of it all though i am 10 miles inland, out of the deep fog belt of the coast, where air condenses into a thick haze. Here the element of water, of emotions, is so present, though now the sun shines on through.

The life i called forth – life in the trees, where the life of people is in harmony, different elements dancing together. Here the plant life grows in harmony – it is us who can seem out of place. It is not merely the redwood trees, but the diversity of life forms – the ferns, the sorrel, the moss, the rhododendrons, berries, alder, salal, trillium and more that grow together, intermingle, give each other life. we focus on the largest, the tallest, but they are all part of this zone, they all are part of the intricate dance – a dance that includes the animals and birds, and yes, today, us.

The sky is now grey – much more typical of this twilight zone, this zone where the giants thrive. I walk around, no people about, myself and the trees and the plants, green live thrives, lush and magnificence. All forms in denseness become manifest – in morphological fields. It is a twilight zone – i imagine dinosaurs roaming around, giants of the past, and wonder if they still do, invisible to us now. All feels so old and enduring, the past living on, clinging on, taking hold. I remember the petrified forest in Arizona, huge logs turned to stone, all dry and barren, with fossils of dinosaurs and ancient forests about, destroyed in some great cataclysm. I remember that place that felt of life destroyed, and i remember this images that came to me the last time i was here, of waves seeping over the land.

For now all life is showing, the life that remains. It is green, more green than i imagined, the green that i so yearned for, the green of the heart and of life. Still it feels heavy, pressing down, so much energy caught in moisture, and what has become form. Thought forms hang on, emotions come alive, energy condenses in bodies and in my joints, even the redwoods have burls. And i am a small part of this all.
Mosquitoes fly around my face, a nibble here and there. I feel insignificant – then i look at the tree stumps, those that were cut down, and i see how much power (wo)man can have, despite our size – how we have cut so much of this down. A mosquito bites again – i remember their power – able to cut us down – malaria, dengue, west nile and more. how they can cut us down with the poisons that lay inside, that they transmit, that have taken hold in them. size has little to do with power, and as another bites, i realize i am just a part of the chain of life. I sleep beneath the trees once again.

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Entry to energy line

Red rocks and twisted trees.
Red rocks, red soil,
twisted trees
a vortex, or energetic hotspot
something is here
all is dry
a different feel
than other lands where i have been.

feminine stones, soft and flowing
i imagine lava bending into shape
yielding,

the wind blows
in this bend,
louder here
as if to speak.

Clouds float overhead
My camera does not capture the red.
Around a corner there is more.

Twisted trunks shedding bark
seemingly dead
but with tiny leaves or needles up above

An energy that is unfamiliar
one that is strong,
wind blows again
a high-pitched sound in my ears
a sound not of the wind
a power is here
and i feel it

a dried up creek
but is it
an energetic line

i walk on, up the path
the zigs and zags up the hill
crossing this line
and something is there
veins of minerals, or more?
I know there is more.

I am walking up Red Hill, just on the edge of Carbondale. It is my first time here. As i had passed by on a few occasions, on the bus, these vibrant hills of red called to me. The last time i noticed a parking lot by an intersection where the bus would drop me, and people with dogs heading up what looked to be a fire road. So i came.

A series of trails for mountain bikes, joggers, people walking there dogs starts just up the road on the BLM lands that extends for miles. I veer to the left on the Three Gulch Trail, the one that is furthest from the highway noise. I had read, that the views from this area are wonderful, and that they are, of the valley below, the mountains, especially of the snow covered Sopris peak that glimmers under the changing sky.

But it is the land on this hill that calls to me, that speaks to me. The rocks that seem playful and gentle, the spindly trees that twist around, telling of something in the ground, Despite the cars below, few people are around, and those that pass me as i take almost an hour to walk a mile, stopping at so many places, seem unaware, jogging to get fit, conquering the trails on mountain bikes, or prattling on about the mundane concerns of daily life – not hearing the power of the land, or at least not deeply, for something calls them here.

I look out beyond, and then at the rocks and trees, A power calls to me as i approach an area, one that seems more alive, and different. The rocks call as do the trees and what seems to be a dried up creek or energy line, a vortex perhaps. All becomes sharper and clearer, and i feel different, The sound in my ears, pressure in my head, a sense of energy moving through my brain as my nose twitches and becomes more alive. The earth is red. So many gatherings of worn, gentle stones, a woman reclining before a tree and i smile. In contrast to the soft nature of the rocks, the trees are twisted and contorted, as if reacting to pulses below.

I reach the top, the land has turned grey, a different strata of rock. The magic is gone, a different period revealed up here. I descend, take another path down, less alive, more travelled it seems, away from that line or creek or vein that called. Then i come upon another cluster, and feel something more again. I walk down, and as i hit the dirt road, my left arm starts swinging on its own like a pendulum, as if acting independently, picking something up. This happened a few days before, as i was on another red hill, the Red Mountain Trails by Glenwood Springs, and as i descended, my left arm took on a life of its own, and my hand felt like the hand of another. What i am picking up in this land? What secrets does it contain?

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I walk along the Glenwood Canyon trail from town listening to the traffic on the highway that runs beside. I have no idea of the transformation that will come when i turn the corner and enter into the Glenwood Canyon itself. 

But i get an inkling that something special might lay ahead, as i near both the footbridge that will take me across the highway, and the tunnel that will take the cars away for a short while. I have been looking at the cliffs and the rocks, and suddenly a figure appears to me, overlooking the path and the highway on the north side.

Guardian overlooking path as i approach glenwood canyon from the west

I pause, and am taken over, and wonder what lay ahead. I wonder if any of the cars exiting the tunnel and the canyon from the east notice this spirit that looks over the road, watching all that pass through. But he faces the other way. do the cars who enter this area see?

 
On the other, southern, side of the highway is another spirit in stone, a reddish hue like the steeper wall that lay behind. I did not notice him on my way in, but on my return. he smiles down.

Overlooking the highway - west end of glenwood canyon

 These figures, while the most majestic, only provide a hint of the energies in the canyon they guard. I only explore a small area, around Horseshoe Bend where the path and canyon vere away from the highway on the way to the no name rest area (yes, that is its name). being a narrow canyon in mountainous terrain, both the highway and the railroad tracks closely follow the banks of the Colorado River. I have been through on the train, but on foot i connect in a special way (you can also bike the canyon which is what most people do)

I cross the footbridge, and soon am in another world, the world of the canyon itself. traffic has been diverted through a tunnel, so i feel myself with the elements. The Colorado river runs full in a rainy spring after a winter with heavy snow, so it is the sound of it that i hear.

The walls are steep and reddish with a few trees. What strikes me is the vertical thrust of the layers of stone, and i am reminded of areas on the pacific coast. I ask myself, if somehow, in some ancient way, there is some sort of connection between the two. I am relaxed and calm and walk by this area where i will return and become transformed.

I walk to the rest area, past homes, and then return to the sacred zone of this bend in the river. I look up and see a figure – one so much like another that called to me on the Monterey, CA coast – the one that i had called last kiss. The figures was here as well, close to 6000 ft above sea level and over a 1000 miles inland.

Last Kiss #2

 But it is the wall in the bend that comes alive. Several picnic tables sit under a shelter by the river facing a steep wall. As is often the case, the placement of benches, shelters, lookouts and more, shows that we have an inner knowing, a sense of sacred places.

The first time i sit, the wall becomes alive, faces emerge showing me that life is contained within. all becomes crisper, clearer, and simultaneously, less dense. The faces speak to me, but few let me take their picture. Once again, a few i remind me of others i have seen elsewhere. One area is full of spirits, emerging and fading, all having an openness, and reminding me not to look away.

Crawling out of canyon wall

 He reminds me of the being who appeared in a tree trunk in yosemite, calming me,  after the ‘scarier’ spirits had revealed themselves there. Others are nearby, but the camera will not pick them up. Nearby, another looks out.

Ancient guardian on the wall

The photos become less clear, and they say it is time to look and listen and just to be, the messages will emerge. And that i do. 

I return another day, to the same place, sit on the bench, quiet and calm. The world comes alive as i sing to myself, the canyon wall forming a backdrop for the dance of live contained below. A bush with the new leaves of spring becomes vibrant and alive, the lush lime green standing out, a contrast with the reddish hues beyond; the river that flows full, dances, and small brilliant yellow birds fly above the water, emerging and disappearing into the ledges of the canyon wall. Life is so much more than the stones of old, it is here and now, it dances and my spirit dances too.

I walk again, and the whole area becomes unreal for a moment. The rocks lose their density, and i am one with the all. A woman appears further down, carved into the stone. I had noticed the indentation before, but now it becomes something more.

Female saint of the wall

She looks down, motherly and nurturing. And i feel nurtured myself.

I return to the place where i was before, heavy clouds come in with rain, and then blue sky emerges again. Another face appears, speaks again, the bushes and trees and river become alive, and then it is time to go. At the bend, is one face i see looking over.

Face on the bend

I cross over the footbridge and out of the magical canyon. I walk along the path beside the highway. It starts to rain again. But now i embrace the rain, the all, for i have been transformed, the spirits have spoken, and my spirit has come alive once again, as has hope. 

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 Yosemite calls you in. The valley is a cathedral and draws out the spirit. Three roads merge into one at the entrance to the valley – one way in and out. Inside this zone trees grow strong and tall, water runs in the spring, cascading down the steep mountain sides, birds sing and fly about, deer walk calmly and squirrels scurry freely. bears wander, often out of sight, and this time cats were seen. It is a magical place, seeming apart, and not quite of this world, and definitely not of the landscape around.

Still i feel not is all that meets the eye – that there is something that lurks underneath – or rather above. For just as there are magical portals taking you out of self, lifting you high, there is also an element that sucks you under. And it is in the land, it is in the rock – the faces upon the walls. At times i wonder if the beauty is to lure you so that you may be stripped bare. Those times that some of the faces on the walls come alive. I recollect the legends or myths of the Ahwahneechee which speak of evil spirits lurking.

I see it in the faces above, those that come alive at certain times. I first felt it last spring, after i had a magical moments as i went up the vernal falls trail, and came back down again after being transported to a different world. I walked along the river or creek, and looked up, and north dome (i believe) seemed alive – as if other beings lived there. I did not know what to make of it at the time.

North Dome - Spirit Comes Alive

Last summer, iwent up top for day, up above the walls, and there the energy felt so different, the boulders that lay strewn about remnants of some ancient war or cataclysmic destruction, I walked around Tenaya Lake, and spotted this dome, again alive, feeling ‘monkey’ beings or some others that could live there. It was so similar to the other dome i viewed from down below.

Spirit of Tenaya Lake

This visit i stayed in the valley, the uplands still full of snow. Yosemite Falls called me as they always do, for there is often a magical feeling to the walk below – the path lined with giant ponderosa pines, and the boulders off to one side. Now in spring, the falls and creeks ran full and you could feel their energy. I felt like the place was not quite real, as if it belonged to another world or dimension, and i basked in the bliss a few early mornings. But near the base, i spotted a stone, that called to me, off kilter with rest of the magnificence around.

A Poloti of Yosemite Falls?

 

The Ahwahneechee called Yosemite Falls “Cholock” which is a bad spirit, and believed that several witches called “Poloti” lived in the plunge pool at the base. while this was downstream, i could not help but wonder if this was one of the spirits they talked about. Still, the faces that embrace Upper Yosemite Falls seem kind, but sad.

Two Faces of Upper Yosemite Falls

As i walked in the meadow near the swinging bridge, the falls seemed to be seperating the two faces – one night i imagined the falls as a giant tear – two tears joined together. The walls near the falls came alive in the evening, and once again i felt that something was looking down at me.

The Wall Has Eye

 

On my previous visit, i had been fortunate enough to camp under the full moon, and at night these walls lit up and shone with an unearthl quality. As I walked along the loop trail, out towards El Captain, i noticed a shine in the wall although it was the middle of the day. A face appeared to me, one that did not seem benovolent.

Eerie Luminescent Spirit

I felt an evil force in this face and tried not to look, but still i had to. I did not go as far as Bridalveil Falls, who the Ahwahneechee called “Pohono”, another ‘evil’ spirit that means ‘windy spirit’. It was thought that the waterfall spirits would mesmerize you and get you into the mist and make you fall in and you would die. Instead i go to Cathedral beach which calms the spirit.

I walk back on the other side. I glance up and this spirit comes out.

Scary Spirit

It haunts me – i feel an evil force. I try not to look up but i do and spot  another – more benign.

Smiling Creature

Still, the kind nature of this one, fails to shake the feeling from the other spirit that la nearby. I am reminded of one of the spirits i saw one of my first days here this time, something crawling out of the walls, something that threw me off.

What is this crawling out of the wall?

After seeing this creature, i tried not to see images and focused instead on the multitude of life that blooms in the valley in the spring. Once again i did, listening to the birds and the waterfalls and the streams and looking at the trees and making to connection with the other life forces. and this was another face i saw, a bear or something coming out of a tree.

Bear Tree Spirit

I have seen many more spirits in stone at Yosemite. Some i have not photographed, and some do not want their picture taken – they do not want to be revealed. But the walls are alive, with a past much more mysterious than we know. Who are these spirits? I cannot say, all i know is they are there, magical in many ways, seen and unseen. And i know that each time i visit the valley, i come alive as if imbued with a magical force, i experience a whirlwind of emotions, and after i leave, i feel that something has been taken from me. A loss of the magic, or something more?

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Last Kiss?

“Pacific Grove feels so old ” i have proclaimed many a time. As i walked the trail along Monterey Bay yet again i realized that the ancient nature of the locale was not merely the staidness and demographics of the town, but was contained in the rock formations along the shore. And as i walked along, i realized that it was these ancient relics that drew me here, not merely because of their beauty, but because they contained so much more – a history unknown to us, and a future yet to be revealed.

These stones have power – a power that i have realized many times before, but this time they revealed themselves to me. And subtly they speak to many who are drawn out to lover’s point on a sunny day, or who park their cars to watch the waves lap or pound over the rocks – often mesmerized by the scene. We know, we have built pathways and parks along the shore, but we do not always fully see. I have felt my energies shift here many a time, pulses of life and wisdom coming through many a time – and i have wondered, but have not dared, to ask what truly lays there.

In the rock formations along the west coast i have seen and felt remnants of an ancient civilization – that met a violent end very long ago – i see “beings” trapped in the stone, still alive, wanting to emerge, or perhaps some have already left. And it spoke to me again, of a great upheaval that once occurred, a sudden end to a life long ago, where beings we suddenly trapped in stone – the story of medusa no longer seems so farfetched. Or are there beings that are still alive, transmitting wisdom to us and to far off lands?

A Peaceful Sleep?

An ancient god or someone less benign?

an ancient's head along the shore

 

ancient dolphins on top? i have seen these forms elsewhere inland

another "dolphin" creature waiting to emerge

prophet or seer?

monkey man? ancient alien? just a stone?

 

I wonder if these dynamic remnants are related to the tranquil nature of Pacific Grove? Does the buried memory of that upheaval play into today’s consciousness, even if we do not know why? Is life contained within walls and selves, trapped, muffled, and held down, like the energy within the stones? Or has it long gone, and what remains is but form, something existing, standing still, and waiting to be born? I look across the bay to where the energy pulses strong , and i ask, what was this upheaval, and why does all seem so calm and at times lifeless around? But as with the rocks, there is still a life inside.

Then i remember the bay itself, and how it is the center of the Monterey Bay Marine Sanctuary, and how much life exists here – the seagulls and cormorants that perch on all the rocks, the seals who rest upon the smaller ones and who, with the sea otters, swim around, and the sea lions and whales that pass through, and so many more. And i cannot help wonder if these ancient stone beings help call in and maintain this life. 

   

 

 

 

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Re-enchantment with the city – an ancient holy place or ceremonial city? hills as pyramids of a time gone by?

I am back once again inSan Francisco, that city by the bay, and today it calls forth delight in me. i am re-enchanted with this place, falling in love once again and feeling the joy and radiant energy pulse through. i did not feel this way when i first arrived, coming into the caltrain station south of market and riding a graffiti filled bus (the first like that) across the city. But once i got to the fort on the bluff where i stay, overlooking the water and the golden gate, sitting for a moment under the eucalyptus trees, i felt connected to this place once again. with the new year i can stay in this international hostel (i long ago used up all my 14 annual nights for 2010), and moved back to the room which brings me joy – not the 8 bed female dorm where my reservations were, but the 24 bed co-ed dorm (are there any other women in here?). But i am in my castle by the bay, an original bluff overlooking the bay, once protruding more before they created more land with infill, and the energy is wonderful here.

Yes i walked the wharf and the areas around, but spent my late afternoon and early evening climbing the hills. And there is a special energy to them, and i cannot but wonder if they are ancient pyramids and if the city was not once a holy ceremonial site of an era and a “peoples’ or other race long gone by.

This came to me on my last brief pass through town, between christmas and new years when i stayed in the center. My one full day, i returned to Alamo Square, a peak in the area that brings me joy, and is so full of life and light in contrast to some of what is around, it is on a hilltop and overlooks the city in all directions and as i looked to the south at twin peaks, and just over to Buena Vista park, and at another whose name i do not know, i felt as if i were in an ancient holy place, and if these hills contained a special energy, and still do today; an energy that all help feed, unconsciously, as smiles light up and joy and views are found, with an appreciation for lighting up the day, and the plants that grow and the dogs that play, all help to maintain the energy that way. that same day, less than a week ago (but eons ago to my warped sense of time) i also went up Buena Vista park, another hill closer to the Haight (whose chaotic strung out energy is yet another story), another place that has many times given me joy, and one where you feel that people are more alive, a hill planted with a variety of trees and turned into a park, with magnificent views of the golden gate bridge, the ocean, and the grand st. Ignatius church. I cannot help but feel that there is more to them than the eye reveals.

It is in these places (and more) that the city reveals its magic to me, and at times it is truly a magical place – but as in Alamo Square and today as i walked around telegraph and russian hills, i avoided looking at the one pyramid that feels nothing less that evil to me – the Transamerica Pyramid building, that infamous icon of the skyline, that which also concentrates energy, connecting earth and sky. the other day i looked at it, and the shapes of the steeples on churches, as i did again today; then the grand St Ignatius church over to the west, and today Saint Peter and Pauls and the St. Francis Assisi churches that lay off Columbus street, and saw how spirit and energy can be directed; but that pyramid – which haunts the city – with be the subject of another, darker, entry.

but today i went up Telegraph Hill and around Coit Tower just about sunset; the land felt lighter as i wandered up the streets, and the pink in the sky over the bay that faded away, remained in my heart. Another hill preserved with a park, and that tower that glows out at night; that magical tower where i thought to head the cloudy, rainy night of the lunar eclipse, that tower that inspires frivolous thoughts, and also calls back to a life i might once have had.

I walk down after dark, a cheap bite off Columbus street, the evil tower dominates what i consider to be the lower one, and then i was called up russian hill. I felt a magic return to me as i walked up the steep streets, nowhere in particular, but to the highest points for a view, and for photos of coit tower glowing in the dark and the spire of saint peters and pauls church – none which came out too well. i walk and feel lightened, and start to sing, i turn down a street and stop for a while, and realize it was the very place i stood when the beginning of the lunar eclipse came into view, and tonight i felt the joy that i did then; and of course grace cathedral and the labyrinth that i walked that night, sits on nob hill, a short walk away. And to these hills, the ones that help make san francisco famous, people come and feel something more, and in their delight help retain that energy in place.

The hills are low and we can climb up and the streets go straight up and down; we can ascend and come back down. The layout of them makes me ask, could they have been planned out long ago? There is something more, a lighter feel, connected yet apart from down below. this is an area i need to explore, for once again that insatiable sense that there is so much more. That once upon a time, long, long ago….

tonight i did not descend to that center where too many lives are hollowed out – i will return to help spread light there – but tonight i returned to the bay, and as i walked up the hill towards the fort where i stay i looked over the water below and then out towards the now darkened golden gate, and saw it as the gateway to another world – a world where i feel enchanted, and alive – which seems magical even as i lay in a bunk bed, smelling old sweat and socks, and wish that it could always be this way. but i also feel that this was once a ceremonial center, a holy place, and thus perhaps it is one we come as pilgrims to, to embrace what is here, to give it thanks and love, and to feel the special power of this place, a power to bring forth with us. i will be here a few more days, this time engaged in different activities, and i honour the power of the hills by the bay.

And i feel an interesting pulsing and moving of energy from the earth right now – no not a quake, but an underlying vibration of light, the light that calls me and others here, and that light that is beyond us all.

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I went out to lover’s point today – in pacific grove by monterey. Today i once again here felt the energies pour through me and this time, unlike the last, did not wander out too far. i felt the joy of the place and a deep sense of gratefulness for all that was there. I felt the power of the stones thrust up, a reminder of a time gone by, and could feel the joy of the others who climbed out on this point at low tide. And i was grateful for the day, and the parks and paths that took me here, for all who created them and maintain them to this day. As i walked i looked at the dogs and the wildlife around – the seagulls and mures or cormorants out on the rocks, and as i turned back, the seals who balanced upon them, looking like rocks themselves. I felt at peace and a calm, and a reminder to seek the good inside, to seek out the kernels of light, rather than those of dark. Energies came through intensely out on that point, as they have before, and i realize why it is such a special place and why all continue to make it so. i walked out a bit and then back towards the city and the bay, distracted for a while, until i saw more seals on rocks and the beach, seagulls flying around, a few sea otters with their dense fir, and two cranes by the touristy fisherman’s wharfs. The rocks have power in their uplift, but it is people who help preserve the bay today, and i am thankful for all the forces that have made this a special place.

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