Waterfalls are acoustic. Some roar, some sing, and a few weep. Every waterfall I know expresses themself using airwaves. Therefore, my ritual of visiting them is to set aside some listening time to hear what they have to say. An exception happened the other day when I met McWay in Big Sur. The exception was not with my ritual, but how the tidefall conveyed herself. She let the ocean speak instead. No matter how hard I tried, all I heard was the ocean’s grumblings. McWay – like Time – kept flowing and had nothing audible to say. And like Time, her mute beauty was incessant... eternal.
Talking about Time, how it flows! My beloved little wing-man turns nine soon. As he grows, he gives me reasons and excuses to grow with him as his everyday ally at home and in our travels together. Times I share with him remind me of times I have shared with my dad. Woods, rain, chirping birds, blooming flowers, moonrises, sunsets, stars, Milky-way… life flows on like beautiful waterfalls. It is a true privilege to pass on these endowments from dad to my son unadulterated and smeared with love.
To Rishabh, I say: Thank you for being such a kind and sensitive human being. Like McWay, we must keep flowing, whether our voices are audible or not. Time changes everything, yet it can’t touch a few songs deep within. Yes Rishabh, just as nine years ago, it’s still the same – you are why I am.
Tags: McWay McWayFalls BigSur JuliaPfeifferBurnsStatePark CentralCaliforniaCoast Carmel PacificOcean Sunset Ramen Saha Waterfall California
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Have you ever really loved someone?
Were her eyes your last hope? Was her face all there was to the universe? Did every minute without her make life unlivable? Did every moment with her feel like an eternity? Did you crave – as deserts beseech rain – to hold her hand when you stood alone in front of soulful waterfalls? Were those beautiful sunsets not worth a second look without her? Did you – the grumpy you – ever smile just because she was smiling? Have you ever – despite knowing it to be your certain death – let her go?
Have you ever really – really – loved someone?
Tags: Waterfall McArthur-BurneyFalls McArthur-BurneyFallsMemorialStatePark BurneyFalls NorthernCalifornia BurneyCreek Ramen Saha Autumn NeutralDensityFilter
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-----Prologue-----
“Seems like you have taken up the best spot already!”, I said in half jest to the photographer right next to me while setting up my gear for the above shot of Zion’s Virgin and the Watchman.
“You got that damn right!”, She said with that unmistakable British accent with no audible trace of jest in her response.
-----Act 1-----
To tuck in the Virgin river’s bend into the frame without backing off on millimeters and the Watchman’s proportion in the shot, I had to move my tripod by about four inches to the right. Problem was, firmly planted on the concrete one inch away was the stern British lady’s equally stern tripod leg.
“Would it be OK if I put my tripod right next to yours?” I asked as gently as I could.
“Yeah fine. Don’t trip mine over”, the flinty voice yielded.
-----Act 2------
While waiting for the sun to obey my wish and light up the Watchman precisely as above, I killed time by serving as an iphone-photographer for a group of three giggling Alaskan college girls (who never paid me my paltry fees of $5, do you believe it?), stretching my muscles in all sorts of shapeless contortions, waving at aghast drivers driving past the hoard of us photographers at 5mph, and talking again to my austere British neighbor.
“Are you from around here? Are you a techie in the Silicon Valley?” She asked me. When I told her what I do for a living, she broke out into a laughter and apologized profusely for stereotyping. From there on, our conversation took on a more manageable course. I learned her name was Mickey. Mickey is not on Flickr but she and her incredibly handsome and devoted husband were traveling the US with one sole purpose: landscape photography.
-----Act 3-----
“Why do we do this?” Mickey asked hinting at all the pain undertaken by landscape photographers (or, faux landscapers, like, yours truly).
“I don’t know why Mickey. I guess, we like chasing the light and stopping time.” The nerd in me was having a field day.
“Tell you what, I do it because it keeps me going. I have lost my son to cancer but all this running around with the camera keeps my sixty-year-old mind and body going. You know?” I noticed a hint of moisture in her eyes reflecting the orange glow of the west earnestly.
“Tell you what Mickey,” I said, looking straight at the unexpectedly revealed segment of her core, “you are damn right! To keep going... That is exactly why I do it too!”
-----Epilogue-----
Mickey, if you are reading this, then here is one more reason why I do it: To meet people like yourself on the trail who somehow have that magical ability to touch others in the span of a moment. Thanks for loaning me a pint of your life-blood to keep my soul flickering.
Tags: Zion Watchman VirginRiver ZionNationalPark Sunset Sunset colors SunsetReflections Sunset thoughts Landscape River Clouds Ramen Saha Utah NationalPark
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According to Kootenei Indian fables from Montana, gods have designated a special place for all people to dance. This place is secluded – much alike their genealogically isolated Ktunaxa language – and remains hidden to many, including those who stumble right upon it. Kootenei people say, it takes a special state of mind to see this place. Unless you are ready to quit the comfort of your cavern, you won’t see it. Unless you are ready to dance, you won’t see it. Kootenei Indians call it Ya.kiⱡ Haqwiⱡnamki – the place where they dance.
I did not know or care about a dancing place that other day when rain had soaked me silly and I was ready to reel into my cavern. The drive from Great Falls to that place was littered in clouds. The torrent came and went but the dampness stayed. On such cloudy days, as the inside gets gloomy, it is an inherent nature of thoughts to convene quietly – like stars at dusk – and tangle up into a mystified dimension. Trying to vie away from such wet and uncomfortable thoughts, I focused on the scene in front of me. Hanging low over the reflective lake were shadows of two mountains – Sinopah and Rising Wolf – that were likely lovers long ago but turned to stone waiting for the other to relent. Behind them were other mountains conversing loudly with the taciturn sky veiled in cold clouds. Suddenly, breaking the gloom, a shaft of stormy light sneaked into the scene and faintly illuminated Sinopah's peak and my mood. Those tangled thoughts metamorphosed into truth of a newer order where one is acutely aware of – but, is in peace with – disorders within. Now, all felt well and I wanted to… dance!
You see, I had found my Ya.kiⱡ Haqwiⱡnamki and I really wanted to dance!
Tags: TwoMedicineLake GlacierNationalPark NationalPark Lake Water Reflection Reflections Montana SinopahMountain RisingWolfMountain Sunset Stormy day Ramen Saha Ya.kiⱡHaqwiⱡnamki
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Certain silent journeys of the soul are best narrated by waterfalls of words and images. Sometimes, words hunt down the image and at other times, the image conjures and clusters words. Here’s the journey… the one, which was never meant to have a destination.
She's a whisper
She’s a whisper, a whisper of tears
that moves me to a smile;
She’s the frozen anger, flows within
in the muted aisle.
She’s the silence , a deafening one
that wrenches my soul.
But, she has eyes that quietly speak
in green lush cajole.
Dragging silts of sorrow,
she’s the pain that numbs all pain.
My past, present, and future;
eternity lingers in the darn hard rain.
She’s a beauty, o she’s beautiful!
A beautiful enchanting mist.
She’s the spark that’ll burn me forever
and I won’t even resist.
She’s the chrysalis’ darkness
that a butterfly must achieve,
She’s the quietus I died
before life would let me live.
Yes, she’s the one, the one,
who will remain within
when the ship departs the shore.
Ah, she’s the one, the one,
who will remain in me
when I’ll remain no more.
Tags: Waterfall Mossbrae MossbraeFalls NorthernCalifornia CaliforniaWaterfall California SacramentoRiver ShastaCascadeArea Dunsmuir Ramen Saha
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