Still More Musings from a Childhood Friend

Journeys (Dave Heavner) 5/4/96 The Sea. I took a journey in my mind, and ll these things I left behind: concrete, steel and these four barren walls; to stand by the sea and listen to the gulls. I saw myself standing upon a rocky cliff by the sea, surrounded by the dancing showers of misty spray as they caressed my face. All was so peaceful, and the only sounds were the lonesome cry of the gulls as they darted playfully among the pearly white foamy crests of the majestic waves as they marched like soldiers to the shore, only to dramatically exhaust their strength and power against the unyielding rocks. The faintest first fingers of a blazing morning sunrise began to stretch across the shimmering waters as if stroking them lovingly. It was God saying, "Good morning" to His creation. The cool morning air was saturated with the aromas of the sea. I stood as if in an enchanted trance, gazing lovingly upon the glory that surrounded my solitary figure, and feeling as if I were one with it all. It was truly mesmerizing. I felt the spray upon my face, and I closed my eyes to bathe in the cool moist, and refreshing kisses it left upon my cheeks. At the same time I invigorated myself in the aroma of the fresh salty air, as the cries of the gulls lulled me. I breathed ever so deeply, as if to fill my inner yearning spirit witht the captivating essence of the moment. I was alone to be caught in the early morning majesty of the sea, and I cherished it all. I wondered at the beauty. I marveled in the tranquility. I revelled in the oneness I felt with the whole splended picture. Like this was but a moment in time that would not have been at all without my presence so silently observe its being. It was as if I were sharing ancient secrets with mother nature, as she whispered into my ear through the various sounds of hter world that presently surrounded me. The sea is music. Its sound is enchanting to the soul, and its composer is GOD. Rocky Mountain Meadow: Another journey I took afar, to heal the pain of this soul-wrenching sear: the threats and the curses being thrown everywhere, I escaped to a mountain meadow full of colors so fair. I stood at the base of a majestic mountain full of vibrant colors. It stretched before me like an endless sea of life. Beautiful butterflies, large and small, drifted serenely, floating in the calm mountain breezes. Flowers of all colors and descriptions swayed slowly back and forth as if dancing to some secret music that nature played for them alone. THe supple blades of long, luscious green grass that stood between them like a carpet that God Himself laid, felt soft and cool beneath my bare feet. I opened my arms wide, and tilted back my head, breathing the perfumed air as I spun round and round in the grass and tenderly loving all things. Overhead, wispy white puffs as fragile as a breath journeyed to no particular destination through a saphire blue endless sky. The mountain itself stood beside me like a silent majestic guardian of this beautiful sacred place. Its pinnacles reached alone, out of view, and to look upon it was to view enormous and unmoveable strength and fortitude. I knelt down in the tall soft grass and gently touched a flower. Its petals were soft and supple. SO fragile, and yet so beautiful. There were vibrant colors all around me, richer and deeper than I'd ever viewed before. Ruby reds, dazzling sunlight yellows, harvest moon golds, newborn pinks, sunset oranges, and violet. All the colors of the rainbow surrounded me in proud display. It was as if the flowers knew they were there and knew how very beautiful they were. A living canvas painted by the Artist up above. The mountain breezes caress them, and whisper lullabies to them on a lazy spring day. There I stood among them alone, like an invited visitor to be entertained by the glorious mountain host. A mountain meadow is a tranquil, enchanting place to be alone, with God.