There’s a quiet place I came upon unexpectedly. Not more than a hundred feet off a busy canyon road. Quite by accident Netty and I pulled our car over to check out Asian statuary and batik clothing blowing in the breeze.

As I walked through a simple iron gate and through the scalloped parking area covered in wood chips, I thought I heard falling water. Faintly. Was it real? Imagined? Where?

I continued just a few feet farther, past the stone Bhuddas and Balinese wood carvings.

It was distinct now. Definitely water falling into a pool. The sight was so remarkable that I was staring right at it without seeing it.

Its beauty and size, its simple grace and powerful animus suggested the end of a long search, a culmination of a difficult journey completed and rewarded by its presence.

And yet it was so close at hand, so casual an appearance at the rear of these trinkets for sale that I wondered if it were real.

I stood still for a moment, collecting my thoughts, calming my astonishment.

In the tranquility of the pool, my thoughts clarified. They assumed a voice that informed me silently.

Here, in front of you, behold the wonder. Here, by your side, here in your hand…receive the splendor. Reach out, so near, everything is here. Reach out and embrace the world.

The voice quieted. The common became grand. The ordinary was spectacular, abundant around me.

In that tiny moment…the immensity of the world was manifest.

That tranquil pool

held the universe within its shore.

Everything was here,

everything and nothing more.



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