The Power of Place

Today I drove up the “Million Dollar Highway” in Colorado from Durango to Ouray.  The mountains were just breathtakingly beautiful.    Such magnificence!     I was driving very carefully, it is a narrow, winding, two lane road, with high cliffs and no guard rails! 

As I drove, I noticed (I felt) how some mountains have such power, such presence.  Some more than others.  And I am not talking about how beautiful they are or how big. 

Have you ever felt this?

Many years ago I was in San Francisco and my friends and I rented bicycles.  I went riding off on my own, winding up on the Pacific coast, up a trail that was on the mouth of the Bay, with a magnificent view of the Golden Gate Bridge.  I stopped to just look at the view.  The cool air felt so wonderful, and I could hear the fog horns going off out at sea. 

I was on the edge of a cliff that overlooked the ocean, the waves crashing intensely on the rocks below.   I saw one area where the cliff jutted out, like an upside down “V”.  I went out to the edge of it, to the tip of the “V”.    I looked at it all, the waves crashing below, the trees that stretched out sort of sideways of the walls of the cliff and wind, the wind as it blew, the ocean so large and seemingly endless and the sun shimmering on us.  

It was then I felt the beauty.  But it was more than beauty.  I felt the power and presence of this place.  It was deeper than what I was physically seeing, hearing and feeling.  It was a very special moment, extraordinary! 

It was a sacramental moment.

A year or so later I brought a  friend there. I did not tell him what this place was, or what had happened to me.  I told him to stand near the edge of the cliff for a moment. 

He stood there for about 20 seconds and then stepped back, taking  a breath.  I could tell he felt something, he looked a little startled.  He looked at me, “What is this place?”

One more time, I brought another person there.   I did not tell her about this place, just took her there and told her to stand near the edge of the cliff and look out over the ocean.

She lifted up her arms to feel the wind and smiled.  She was taking it all in.  She looked at me after a few moments, her eyes very large.  “This is wonderful!” she said.  “What a wonderful place!”

The years went by, and I would visit it from time to time.  In time, the magic of it seemed to fade.  But I know it was not the place.  It was my perception, it was I that had changed in time.  

The cliff’s edge became ‘just’ a beautiful place.  It became ordinarily beautiful.  And there was a peacefulness to this.

Then I understood the old Zen Buddhist saying;  (I paraphrase)

“When I first began my spiritual journey, I saw mountains as mountains, and waters as waters. Further along the journey, when I arrived at a more intimate, deeper knowledge, I came to the point where I saw that mountains are not just mountains, and waters are not just waters. But even further along the spiritual journey, I am at rest. For it's just that I see mountains once again as mountains, and waters once again as waters.”

Now and then...the veil lifts for us...and we get to “see” the world in new way, feel the mystery and its aliveness...its sacredness...and it is beyond words and it is wonderful!  

And we can feel that some mountains are more "awake" than others. 

Or...is it us?