Yesterday I walked to a friend’s house. I usually walk through the park aware of destination. Yesterday I was stunned to see, truly see the path to the park. I didn’t even walk all the way into the park, too absorbed with all there was to see and be, so I walked partway in, sat, walked back. Today I think of veins, the teeny-tiniest ones, each filled with journey and path.
When I got into my car, my mood shifted. “Road Trip” shimmered through my being. In over forty years of living in the San Francisco Bay area, I’ve driven 280 south from Mill Valley hundreds of times, but today my inner guidance system requested a new pace and route that honored the passing of my brother eighteen days ago. Jeff suggested a stop along the way and I took it.
I’ve always meant to pause at the reservoir but have sped along admiring it from the freeway. Destination has been my focus, but not today. Today I exit the freeway and turning right, not left, travel along Skyline Highway until I realize I’m on the wrong side of the reservoir, so I turn around and parallel the reservoir to the east. I stop for some pictures and then I enter Holy Gates. I’m at the Water Temple Jeff said to visit. Photos will suffice.