Last night I went to one of my favorite places. It’s a park in the Palisades that sits on a cliff and looks out over the ocean. When I stand up there, facing the ocean, to my right is Malibu and the lights of PCH and to my left is Santa Monica. The colors of the ferris wheel on the Pier light up and in the distance I can see all the planes taking off and landing at LAX. My favorite time to visit this place is in the evening, just after the sun had gone down, but it is not yet dark and a beautiful pastel highlight is still gently scarping the sky. I like to go all year round but my favorite time is just about now, when it is cold enough to feel like winter but still warm enough to be reminded that I am in Los Angeles. I go alone most often, because a part of me doesn’t want to share the beauty as I breathe it in. I want to be alone in my own sacred space of peace and beauty without sharing the experience with anyone but myself.
Last night on my way to have dinner with a friend, I stopped by. It was well past 5pm and very cold for a December day in Los Angeles. The sky was still hinting at tones of pink and purple as I pulled onto the street to park. I had my tea in my hand and bundled up as I walked up to my favorite place to stand. And I stood there, with beauty surrounding me on all sides, and the cold wind hitting my cheek just in a way that reminded me to blink. I stood in awe as the waves crashed far below me, past PCH, past the lights, past the big bank of sand. On my left the airplanes took off and climbed into the darkening sky with their lights flickering. On my right the glistening lights of PCH headed up into Malibu and turned the corner until I could no longer see them. I breathed in deeply, as I usually do when I am there, and felt air travel into all parts of myself, and then back out again. The rhythm comforted me in a sense, as my body and mind knew that with the end of each breath, came another.
As I walked along the tiny path that outlined the park, I began to think that if I could ever put a description on how it feels to be connected to my Authentic Self and experience my Authenticity, this would be how. Much like how I feel when I am at the park is how I feel when I am experiencing myself fully, without boundaries or hesitation, without guidelines or fears holding me back. When I fully step into myself, it feels much like standing on the edge of the cliff, breathing deep into places I closed the doors on many years ago. With each breathe, another door opens, and behind each door is a memory that fills me up even more than the last. What comforts me is knowing that breath will always come again, and another door will always open. When I stand on the cliff in the park in the dark, wrapped in my scarf with my teacup in my hand, my heart sings gentle songs as I look out over the world and see a blank canvas. In those moments my mind isn’t moved or challenged, not fixed or inflexible. I feel open, raw, happy, and connected to that which matters the most. I feel connected to me.
I feel comfort in knowing that the park will always be there. “I can always come back here” is what I told myself as I felt a pang of sadness as I was walking away. I can always come and experience the waves crashing, LAX in the distance, PCH curving around the mountains. But on the deeper level I can always climb back into my heart. The door is always open and the inviting sounds of stillness and love will always be available to me. And as I got in my car and prepared to drive away, adding my car to one of a thousand driving on PCH, I remembered something else. I don’t ever have to leave my heart again. I can stay in it forever. It’s my home.
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