Highway One: The California Coast
In at least one respect California — the California we are talking about — resembles Eden: it is assumed that those who absent themselves from its blessings have been banished, exiled by some perversity of heart.
What is straight? A line can be straight, or a street, but the human heart, oh, no, it’s curved like a road through mountains.
I am a frayed and nibbled survivor in a fallen world, and I am getting along. I am aging and eaten and have done my share of eating too. I am not washed and beautiful, in control of a shining world in which everything fits, but instead am wandering awed about on a splintered wreck I’ve come to care for, whose gnawed trees breathe a delicate air, whose bloodied and scarred creatures are my dearest companions, and whose beauty beats and shines not in its imperfections but overwhelmingly in spite of them, under the wind-rent clouds, upstream and down.
Be not a slave of your own past, plunge into the sublime seas, dive deep and swim far so you shall come back with self-respect with new power with an advanced experience that shall explain and overlook the old.
The world of learning is so broad, and the human soul is so limited in power! We reach forth and strain every nerve, but we seize only a bit of the curtain that hides the infinite from us.
Photos by Kelli Rad