The sea lion ambled into view as I leaned over the railing of the Balboa Pier in Newport Beach, California. As this rather large sea mammal swam lazily in the blue green water, I captured her portrait in a moment of sea lion ballet. Was she performing for the excited audience on the pier above? Or did we see ballet through our anthropomorphizing gaze? Soon she dove between the pilings beneath us and disappeared from sight. The dance ended as suddenly as it had begun. ♨
The difference between pilgrims and tourists is a perennial question. The best answer I have found came from a conversation with Peter Brown.
Review of “The Healing Power of the Santuario de Chimayó: America’s Miraculous Church” by Brett Hendrickson.
The Hoh Rain Forest waits as a patient guide, a moss-embroidered forest of wisdom, lined with ferns and storied over with trees older than memory.
The ancestors painted their ghosts on this rock wall, marching through a dream beneath the twin suns fleeing the robed one who came to crucify an older way of believing.
I recently let go of a tent trailer that had come to me from my father. This trailer had been a special sort of place for me, a mobile habitation invested of nostalgia, memory, and hope. But too little time spent inside its canvas walls, too few miles pulling it along the memorable highways of scenic lands, had left me…