We are in the mountains, surrounded by forest and forest creatures, yet we are not far from the urban meadows of Los Angeles, which spreads from ocean to desert, with but momentary lapses of attention.

The night is dark, only scattered porch lights illuminate nearby, not enough to give bother. But, I did again notice the light pollution to the south, where millions sleep, where artificial light does not, casting its glow high into the sky.

Still, though not secluded, sitting for a spell underneath those continuing lights of above, I taste of something, something which always resided within my soul, giving me that longing, unquenchable, that distance, that assurance of something grand just beyond our view. It is this which causes me to wander from weddings into a barren desert, or wander from the suburban chase to mountain reclusion.

Sometimes, in those quiet moments when everyone has gone to bed, when the wind lightly stirs the cedar branches or brings a twinkle to a distant star, I taste it stronger, it comes to the fore, and I am filled with the sense of the eternal, that constant river in which we barely participate, yet which calls us always, in and through all things, to lay down our selves and take the great leap within its gentle and powerful current.

Words escape, prayers replace, and I sit in solitude, at tune with the world around, feeling myself a beginner, but a beginner who knows, who has begun. There is only to continue, for tasting of this, being given this gift, is not something which can be left behind. It lingers, in the moment, in the constant, so that one is drawn back to the song, risking one’s own soul if not pursued.

But it is restful, peaceful, a melody which gives ease to the innermost being, a harmony of all things resonating within and without. All is well, it sings. And so it is.