At Laguna Lake - 2

Thumb, thumb. The deck shakes with waves of the lake (this kind of deck moves with waves of water – rather than anchored to ground, it is anchored to the bridge that allows the deck to move with wave). Sky is clear blue, with streaks of cotton-candy clouds going across like waves, like waves of lake. I like how I move with the wave (since I’m on this deck), it’s fun. Lake creates jewels of sunlight on their ever moving waves, jewels those keep appearing and disappearing and appearing again…
The thousands of dips made on lake’s surface by chilly, clear breeze create a beautiful fabric, bejeweled with thousands and thousands of ephemeral sunlight jewels.
I want to run across it.
Tall water grass, various trees, and walkways (with people occasionally passing by); lake-side houses and distant mountain ranges surround the lake. Little leaves and branches of trees near the foot of lake are just few feet away from me. How harmonious!
An airplane goes across the sky. It flies straight. Little birds fly low over the lake, souring high, dropping sharp, going back and forth, they are one body with the wind.
I want to fly, too.

Long grasses of the grass land gleam as they move with the wind. They create a beautiful music, with whistles and their gleaming waves. The gleaming waves go across, across the vast field.
Right at this moment, whistles of grasses, leaves of trees, singing of birds, and humming of small airplane up in the sky, and growing whistles of wind fills this time and space. Big black falcon flies slowly across the field, its wing gracefully spread and carrying him on the wind…
Mountains are clear and pastel colored under the warm ray of sunlight. Distant mountain ranges are misty. This afternoon sets with this scene illuminated with sunshine and whistles of the wind.

At Laguna Lake

I’m near the foot of Laguna Lake. The big body of water, illuminated a little by dusk that’s almost gone now, resembles the color of the sky. Deep, little bit of sad, blue sky with glowing light magenta at the bottom. The water is constantly moving, absorbing light and air of surrounding. Right next to the lake, a black tree’s presence is like of a black night. Wind is chilly, it embodies everything within it, coming slow, and next moment a bit faster. Lake is constantly moving, its long, horizontal ridges of waves and thousands of smaller waves are part of music played by this evening wind. Birds become quite an acrobat in this swirl of wind – it amazes me how swiftly and lightly they can fly. Grass land with long grasses (some of them coming up to height of my chest). A building (it is a restroom unit), at the other side of grass land, right there at the foot of gentle hill, has knightly and mystical trees at the back. The building glows. It glows with warm, cold, deep and saturate orange in this cold evening air, in this growing darkness. I look up. Against deep blue sky, moon is a waxing gibbous. It is almost full.

At Rockslide Ridge

I am surrounded by rolling hills. I’m up at Rockslide Ridge. Green trees are rolling down along the ridge of a distant mountain range. Right next to me, straight, long grass that comes up to my knee (I’m seating down), dances along with soft, soft breeze.
The mountains are grand and gentle. From here I can look down to the Poly Canyon. I see the experimental structures built by students, which felt quite big when I was in them, seems like a child’s toy, tiny. I am so small compared to nature. I feel I’m surrounded by primordial bigness, magnificence but still gentle, beauty.
We are so small, but world within us are so deep, big and unknown. Why it this? Why such small creatures like dusts when compared to bigness of nature, feels like we have universe in our minds and souls? Why such turmoil of emotions and sorrows? Is this because we are the reflection of this nature, this universe?

At Morro Bay - 2

Crisp, jagged edge of the Morro Bay Rock (the surface is light-cream red, with darker reddish stains on most of it) meets the ray of late afternoon sun. There is smell of sea in the air, among the rush of warm sunlight. The moist sea breeze cool me down, even deep down into my mind. Seagulls fly around this beautiful mountain of rock. Those animals are so free and in harmony with nature.

I am seating on the rock just before the sea – the rock is dark gray, with numerous white spots. Rough, and warmed with late afternoon sun. The greenish-blue sea meets with distant mountains and horizon. The sun casts fairy mists on the rock - this delicate sculpture out of the earth. The sea, seagulls, and the rock seats peacefully under this late afternoon sunlight.

At Morro Bay

It is a chilly early spring afternoon. Here at Morro Bay, the Morro Bay Rock stands near the bay out of the sea, like a guardian spirit of the village. The scene is unreal but at the same time so real, its presence is breathable at every moment. Seagulls circle around it, and its jagged edge is crisp against gray sky. There are white stains on the rock surfaces- I heard that those result from water coming out of cracks in rainy season - and they match constantly breaking, foamy waves. Is this rock, standing high with elegance amongst cold winter sea breeze, have been standing here and endured the time. There are many seagulls, either perching in the wedges of the Rock at high places or freely flying around the Rock. The Rock is like a villa for them. They coexist happily. The nature has grown this piece of rock, appointing it to a meeting point of the sea and the land.

A tall, beautiful tree, soaring high above in front of me. When I encountered the tree, I couldn't help
but look up high into the sky, where the tree was soaring to. The dark, streaked outline of tree against grayish-white sky looked like a outline of a gate to a different world.

Here up in the Poly Canyon, graciously unfolding landscape invites me to the world of imagination.
Distant cry of crows and chirping of unknown little birds, along with whispering silence of breeze all accompany well with the landscape here.
Circling and intersecting paths of crows leave invisible mark in radiant silver sky- as if it is a representation
of time continuously freezing, layering over and over again.
The hills are so green. Their curves are so sensuous that as if a very careful sculptor formed and smoothed his clay with great gentleness until the curves are the way they should be. Light, sweet breeze wraps my skin and hair around. Little birds are continuously chirping. I sit here, watching, breathing, and listening.