The colors in the foreground of Shoendorf’s sanctuary rival the eye-dappled plumage of the Sri Lankan peacock’s fantail during courtship. The Bragg reflections of freakish avian barbules, reminiscent of the illusions created by the ablated rock flour that slips down precipitous Santa Lucia slopes to join with the angular pulses of sun beneath the Sea. Where dancing double helix refractions and iridescent aquamarines scream, and express themselves as alien greens amongst the brilliant Big Sur Buddha blues.
Like the swirls of cream atop my mornin’ dose of Deetjen’s coffee.
Or the cube of sugar dissolving through the sterling silver strainer; making its way, in the wee hours of the ex-eve, into my measured bulbous emerald Absinthe glass.
The suspended debris dilute the turquoise greens in the form of meandering milky subsea streams.
And just as the remnant chemical ketones in the Thujone make their way back home (to my brain), I sense the collective consciousness of Tasajara’s Buddhist deep behind me in the Santa Lucia Mountains. As the mystic fog of the green fairy begins to work its mischief again and I spy myself… sitting at the edge of infinity, legs-locked in full lotus, palms arched to sky in measured pulse and contemplation … seeking Zazen. My bottomless inhalations a beneficiary of the transpiring Sempevirens and the Sea, diluting the foreign agents that vigorously attempt to overwhelm me.
Large chunks of continent’s end have randomly, but somehow precisely fallen into the waters bin; as if a higher power handed our Creator some ethereal ancient tome, informing him on how to situate these sublimely meditative stones. Like the disciplined scene borrowing of a Japanese gardens waste-high Nano-world; the arrangement, its abstract purity, miraculously reminiscent of Ryoan-Ji, and its 15th century Temple of Zen …yet vast waters fortuitously substitute for raked rivulets in the sand.
Amidst the exiled outcropping resides an Arch, where a window of brilliant cerulean blue subliminally invites me through. And in this instant, time and space seem to separate and dimensions previously not known make themselves available at some infinitesimal (Planck) scale, as I feel completely and utterly entangled with nature!
And what is happening to me here?
Has not "la fée verte" faded away?
Has some spooky action teleported me straight through to the keyholes of Kyoto’s grandest gardens upon which I now peer?
For all about me resurgent ripples fade and re-appear as wave functions collapse in a tireless Sea