Marie Taylor, Ink

Many years ago, my younger son, his wife and I traveled from northern California to Yosemite to meet up with my older son and his family for a weekend vacation. We left Sacramento going east and crossed over the Sierras near Lake Tahoe.

The road twisted and turned, and no matter how high we climbed, there was always another mountain pass to surmount. Finally, we crested the last peak. As we descended, we saw no more endless winding roads and mountain passes, but a vast, sprawling and magnificent valley floor.

It stretched north and south as far as the eye could see, and far away, along the eastern horizon of the valley, another purple-hued range of mountains rose. The vista was breathtaking and limitless, like the Grand Canyon.

A lookout point was located about a quarter of the way down the mountain slope, and we pulled off the highway to further admire the view. The gravel crunched as we walked from the car and pings and snaps issued from the cooling engine.

As I looked eastward, I felt a palpable presence, not something fragile or fleeting, but something solid and dense and immense.

Total silence…

Infinite stillness…

Sacred as a cathedral.

It was a moment of No-Think. The mind was completely still. The eyes were wide open, like portholes through which consciousness looked into the eyes of another consciousness which was looking back. The Silence was alive; it was vibrating.

I was in awe of this great Majesty. I was drawn like a moth to a flame and at the same time frightened by my insignificance in its presence. It was so intimate I felt like weeping. Then into this unearthly silence, a deafening roar – a solitary buzzing fly broke the spell.

As we continued south to our destination, I looked back and saw the high jagged peaks of the mountains and the smooth rounded shoulders of the foothills. It reminded me of a photo I had once seen of Mongolia and a feeling of déjà vu settled over me. Had I once traveled in a caravan across Asiatic steppes?  Had I listened to the chime of harness bells on shaggy ponies and smelled the cold, hard tundra? At night had I seen the stars unfasten from the firmament and wheel to the horizon? Had I fallen asleep listening to the hymns of Silence?