Big Sur

The sea cliffs along the California coastline are staggering. The vibrant blues of Big Sur illuminate a brightness inside me, stirring an excitement for a newness I have never seen before. My heart bursts, to behold beauty like this.

The overwhelm I feel is different from the awe that aches when looking at 14,000-foot mountain peaks, where my smallness is magnified by the bigness of my gratitude. In the Rockies, I always feel lucky to be there – a visitor passing through, thankful for nature’s hospitality – and when I get back home, somehow still more alive.

The Pacific has its own pull. Not gravity per se, but a magnetism that draws me in and holds close, and perhaps this is what I feel the most: an abundance of feminine energy. I won’t recognize it then, not even during an astounding sunset, but Big Sur is the spiritual chiropractor that gently adjusts and aligns.

It is only when I return to Denver that I realize something significant has shifted inside me. The life I want to live, is no longer home.

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