The Blue Light

1

On a clear, cloudless day, the atmosphere filled with a smog-less shade of blue, the naked eyes can see half dome-protruding upright in the valley of Yosemite. The distance the eyes must travel seems to be at least a hundred and fifty miles away. Here, at 3,800 feet above sea level, clouds usually float by, seeming to be so near to the touch. I often thought of them as soft tufts of cotton, ready to be plucked off their course and felt against one's skin. The temperature up here can be forty degrees cooler than three thousand feet lower. Winds can, and do, blow quite fierce, whistling past the ears, numbing the tip of the nose. I am at the highest point. A small, little tower, made of hand carved stone and round in shape, standing as if proud to be at the highest tip, closest to the heavens, pointing the way to eternal life. To the eastside, a shear drop of jagged rock, molten and cooled to take it's current shape, a present day example of evolution from days long, long ago. This is the home to various birds of differing species and squirrels, deer and the occasional wild pig. A fox may on occasion be seen running past, seeking refuge from the human senses, using it's own to find prey. The north and south sides display vast green shades, blanketing the ground as if to cover what may lurk inside. Looking west, human civilization has established itself, inching closer towards its slopes. Stopping short enough to respect the distance, knowing better than to proceed further. Formed millions of years ago by violent earthquakes beyond human comprehension, the Indians that inhabited this great mountain called her the Devils Mountain; we call her Mt. Diablo. It was here, right here where I am, that I came across a most unusual find; and the Blue Light.

Hiking around these trails leaves much to enjoy with the five material senses. Lush foliage adorns the human eye, sweet fragrance of an aroma to the senses. Multi colored wild flowers, radiating with beauty, giving to the honeybee. Trees towering over head, giving shade to the weary explorer, dancing slowly to and fro to the gentle melody of the summer breeze. Man made signs posting warnings of staying on designated trails only seem to be scattered about, placed in no particular area with any pre meditated thought. I wondered what new visual treat I may experience if I ventured off the trail, blazing my own if you will. Quite far into uncharted land, liking the new territory, hearing the new sounds of leaves being crushed under my feet, I stopped to take it all in. Drawing in deep breaths of the clean, clean air. Looking around at all that was at my abundance, I noticed a huge oak tree. Not just any tree for this one stood many hundreds of feet into the air, having lived probably a year for each foot it boasted skyward. No green color was alive on this tree, and a huge, gaping hole was positioned on the side of the trunk. Hoping to catch a glimpse at a family of squirrels or possibly raccoons living in the vacant space, I approached the tree with the utmost carefulness. Peering inside, seeing darkness, s perceived the smell of decaying plant matter, moist, cool and having the texture of sawdust. Putting my hand inside, feeling around for what I wasn't quite sure.