To express the wide range of emotions I have had this weekend.
But as a word, it will have to suffice.
I was so overwhelmed with it at so many points in the weekend that I just felt my heart over full with joy and gladness.
There was no need to look on the sunny side of life.
It was there at all times, surrounding me, welcoming me, showing me the beauty and the awe of the world that I get to live in.
Who am I to say there is no God?
What hand, then made this?
I am not going to get into a theological discussion, I will just say that my love and reverence for the God in my life just continues to grow deeper and stronger and I get to see so much more and see how far my life has taken me and how much more I just have to experience.
I need more camping in my life.
Of course, as I look at the stack, and the stack is getting bigger–there was another book waiting for me in the hallway to the house when I got back from Yosemite today–I know I have a lot of work, and that the work is only just beginning, but that I will need to have time away from the work to be able to do it strong and well.
I have to fill the well.
The well of images and love and senses.
“That good, eh?” My friend teased me tonight as we sat eating sushi up at Raw on Traval and Sunset.
I had my happy sushi face on.
It was good.
“I’m a sensory person,” I said, and rubbed my belly.
“I’ve noticed,” he smiled and patted my hand.
I like the sensory side of life.
The senses were quite pleased this weekend.
The moving forward, riding in the car, traveling under the light of the high bright blue sky, the pines sloughing in the wind, the smell of pitch, the sound of a hawk keening, the cicadas in the trees last night–how soon I forget the sounds of nature at night–how loud they were in the trees, the sight of the moon rising behind the low-lying clouds in Yosemite and the push of light through the darkened pines, the redwoods and the smell of evergreen needles drying in the sun, the warmth of being by a fire at night, the smell of wood burning, the sounds of a teenage group of kids getting their Saturday night party on in the woods.
So many things to hear and touch and see and smell.
So many things to feel.
The wind on my face as I stood on top of a rock at Glacier Point in Yosemite, 7, 214 feet above sea level, my arms outspread, the tears drying on my face from the sun and the vast expanse of the southern end of the valley rolling majestically before me.
I felt so alive and free and joyous.
It was overwhelming and I was so full of awe and wonder.
I got to see Yosemite falls and Half Dome, Clouds Rest, which really, literally looked like clouds were resting on it.
I got to drive into the park through the tunnel on the southern side and was so blown open by seeing the valley from a different perspective than the one I had just witnessed, to get to get out of the car and stand again and the door step to Gods kingdom and marvel at the handiwork.
Of myself I am nothing, the father doeth the works.
I could not ever have imagined.
When I was getting teary in the car and excited and my friends were being silly and giddy and saying, just you wait, this ain’t nothing, just you wait, I couldn’t have imagined the grand spectacle of it all.
I had no comprehension of the size and scope.
I also have no desire to go back at this time of year again.
Although go back I will.
It was super touristy.
In fact, we were able, quite be coincidence and chance, is it odd or is it God, to get around some of the crowds because one of my friends happened to work at Yosemite when he was younger and because my other friend was a super savvy driver and knew how to navigate us around.
But I did get overwhelmed with the people and had a moment of panic.
It reminded me of why I have never actually seen the Mona Lisa at the Louvre, although I have been there three times.
The crowds of tourists threatened to engulf me.
When my friend drove to the look out point just after the tunnel descending down toward the valley floor my other friend, said, “pull over, she needs to look.”
And we got out and went to the vista point.
We got there seconds, it would seem, before a couple of tour buses pulled up and disgorged an inordinate amount of tourists onto the point.
I was sitting on the ledge and my friend was taking a photograph of me and all I could see was this tsunami of tourists rushing to the wall.
I was literally engulfed in an enormous wave of humanity.
I got up and dashed madly away, deserting my friends at the wall and walking through the parking area as rapidly as I could to get away from it.
I am not always the best with crowds and tourists, even when I am one of them too, it can overwhelm the hell out of me.
It was just another part of the experience.
Granted one that made me very cognizant of wanting to come back in May, early May, while school is still in, or mid to late September, when the tourists go home to every corner of the globe and the park is not so overrun.
I will be going back.
I will be going forward, I should say, forward with many dreams of camping under the stars, of wood smoke, and the sound of wind in the trees and the trails ahead of me.
My path and journey I do not always know, but I know I need more of what I got this weekend and I am grateful.
Oh so grateful for this, yet another life affirming, experience.
For my friends.
And for the sense to say yes when the gift was offered.
May I always be so graced to allow myself to accept these gifts.
May I always know this depth of love and gratitude.
Thank you friend.
Thank you for an experience I did not even know that I was missing.
And now this full and thank full heart is ready for bed.
And that too is something to be grateful for.
A home to come home to.
An anchor point to my travels and my life.
It really is.