The Sound of Big Sur

 

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Driving along the Pacific Coast Highway with its twists and turns, I felt alive. The wind blew through my hair as I looked out over the ocean waves. Our honeymoon was just beginning.

Blue and green encompassed the landscape for miles. I felt a sense of joy, of hop building as we made our way to our yurt by the sea.

The tall trees surrounding me cast shadows all about the ground with patches of sunlight streaming through. The air felt both warm and cool.

“The hills are alive with the sound of music, with songs they have sung for a thousand years.”

It was never more true here. The area was primitive, timeless, untouched by hotels and fast food franchises. Something ancient calls to me in the forest – something I’ve been longing for.

“I go to the hills when my heart is lonely. I know I will hear what I’ve heard before.”

The emptiness that I carry with me is heavy. It is laden with guilt, shame and regret. Here the deep darkness fills with light as I breathe in the fresh, mountain air. It lifts from me up and away into the mist.

It’s my honeymoon, a new beginning, a new chapter in my life.

I feel whole in this space, not wanting to leave, lest the feeling of emptiness returns.

But, my gut knows I can return here whenever I need to – that here is really everywhere the trees are – where I can sing once more.

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