TheBanyanTree: A Day at the Beach

[tobie at shpilchas.net]

Hello everyone,

	Out here on the left coast, the state’s border is defined by the Pacific Ocean. On clear days I can see it, all the way across the bay and past San Francisco.  It isn’t far to drive, really, but we’re not driving anywhere lately. The sound of the waves as a soothing, meditative music must be like listening to your mother’s heartbeat while floating in her womb.  Utter safety within a closed space, and then utter safety at the edge of endlessness.  

	I’ve never been much for beaches, though — sand in my underwear, sand in my hair, and then sand crabs and the occasional beer can  (I never hiked to deserted beaches).  Inland a small way, just north of San Francisco, which means over the Golden Gate Bridge, there is John Muir Woods.  It’s named after John Muir, California’s favorite old naturalist who hiked the whole state and set lots of precedents for the culture of the state.  Of course it’s become a tourist trap. Close to the entrance is a cross cut of a giant redwood tree.  Someone (or some committee) counted the rings and placed informative markers indicating notable dates: Tree born, 909 A.D., 1066, Battle of Hastings, Signing of the Magna Carta, Discovery of America (love that one for Euro-centricity), etc.  (I should add that the memorable dates have been changed to respect a more global human experience).  Of course, the tree cross section is where everyone starts and then walks on the well kept paths, over the creek, through the redwood stands. They are enormous, overwhelming, and somehow exude an intelligence (not noted on any markers). 

	But where I’ve always liked to go is …………. further.  Much further.  If you keep going past all the tourists, and then keep following the creek, eventually, you get to be alone.  The first time, I stood there and was rushed with a strange unfamiliar sensation, almost as if suspended in mid air, weightless. There is no sound. No noise at all.  Wind through the leaves, maybe a bird, and the song of the creek’s water traveling eternally.  The silence is breathtaking. In fact, you can hear your own breathing.  

	Alexa, play that for me.


Love,


Tobie




> On Jun 28, 2020, at 1:20 AM, Sally Larwood <larwos at optusnet.com.au> wrote:
> 
> That makes me so happy.
> 
>> On Jun 25, 2020, at 2:36 PM, Monique Colver <monique.colver at gmail.com> wrote:
>> 
>> 
>> A day after giving Ash a bath, which made him shiny black and smell good, which is helpful when he's sleeping on my pillow, or curled up next to me, we went to the beach.
>> 
>> It was warm and sunny and the boys walked down the beach and out to Haystack Rock, and they returned exhausted. Ash decided he was warm, so he started digging to make himself a pit to sleep in, but he miscalculated and rolled over onto the sand he'd just dug up. 
>> 
>> These are the things that keep me safe in a world of chaos. My husband, and my dog, and the ocean, which I can listen to for hours. When I'm not at the beach I just ask Alexa to play the waves for me.
>> 
>> 
>> 
>> Monique
>> Sent from my iPad
>> 
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> 
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"Perfection is an illusion."
Meyshe Benyomen Shapiro-Nygren



Tobie Shapiro
mailto:tobie at shpilchas.net <mailto:tobie at shpilchas.net>