Meet me in Big Sur on the ledge of the earth on the edge of the razor on the verge of crazy in the pillow clouds where time means nothing and Sea Foam Green is a swirling reality not a Ralph Lauren paint color.

Meet me in Big Sur where ragged rocks threaten like menacing bladed soldiers and protect like a sharp barnacled cliff wall billions of tides strong; where California condors soar over ancient redwood spears on the spicy eucalyptus wind that comes cold and furious like a sea-chilled gale, then suddenly bows soft on your face with a scented kiss of sunwarmth peeled from a thermal layer ridden by a solitary golden eagle with 10-foot wingspan; where transparent fog fingers creep in like shadows from obscurity reaching to tickle or taunt, then out of the blue wrap the world in a surprise silent embrace before evaporating into heaven.

Meet me in Big Sur where idle is idol. Lay your combustible head down in the fire glow of a fall afternoon and feel volatility transformed in rest even on quaking ground – possibility infinite possibility…

Convergence of land and sea – in quiet contemplation – your rugged mass and my feminine water – one.

Filed under: Feel Good Travel by Tags: , , — Moira on October 9, 2008