Big Sur

October 27, 2017


I am sitting in the Hawthorn Gallery just south of Nepethene Restaurant overlooking the Pacific Ocean on a sunny warn afternoon in Big Sur. Yesterday afternoon I went down to the beach through a winding road beneath a canopy of greenery ending at a state park where I could view the always dramatic sunset, at sea level. Afterwards I found a nice turnout where to park and spend the night. In the morning, I learned something wonderful from my teacher Rebbe Ztadok HaKohan in his book Pri Ztadek. The Garden of Eden is in town parts, the Gan/Garden is one part which is watered by the other part Aden/Dew; this is known as the Lower Gan Aden which is beyond our solar system and the Upper Gan Aden which is beyond our Universe.


What I learned this morning was, The Garden of the Higher is the Ad/Dew to the Lower. Suddenly the gap in my understanding, in my picture of creation, found a missing piece and, as a result, everything became into clearer focus. Never sleeping in the same place I believe has a lot to do with being more open the to truth; too much stability makes life repetitive—a person begins to see what he has always seen. I have booked two nights at a local campground for the Shabot. I have bread and grape juice and whatever else I can come up with. Big Sur is a great place to transition into being a MaHalach, a Journeyer.  


It is night now. I am sitting on a cliff at the edge of the sea looking into the red band across the horizon left by the sun, a hint from the brilliant day. I am thinking, stability is in the level pavement but earth is the place of forever; the temporal stability we find in our manufactured world is a delusion beyond all delusions. The ground eats away unused pavement in seven years and turns cement back into grass. Walking upon the earth is a pleasure to the body. The constant shifting of the soil and stone beneath my feet is an assurance of each unique path tread upon the Earth. 


I travel both upon the pavement and upon the ground as I slowly make my way to my destination, which I spend hours envisioning each day. Today I walked up the banks of the Big Sur River looking for a place to sit, and though each place was beautiful in their organic fusion but none cried out to me—sit here, until I came upon a chair hanging from a tree inviting me to sit. I sat there for an hour or more musing about the future. One of the exciting things abut being on the road is constantly seeing what is ahead of you; the stability of people in houses relieves one from that sacred obligation.


The moon has completed her first quarter; she gleams down upon me amid the myriad of stars over the vast horizon, shimmering upon the face of the water. I feel blessed to be here at this moment but the truth is, I should feel blessed every moment. What an honor, to be a soul clothed in this human body of fleshy cognizance here upon the Earth. In the morning, a blanket of fog covered the sea until the horizon. I prayed upon a cliff a few hundred feet above the clouds. The Bal Shem Tov, a Jewish mystic from three hundred years ago, said: One should prayer as if standing on the edge of a cliff.

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