beauty and fear

i re-read this today and felt it right to share now, some 4 months later...

port de iquaçu/iguaçu falls...

an early morning flight, traveling fatigue and heavy bags did nothing to dampen our enthusiasm over our time in iguaçu falls. the moment we jumped in the taxi from the airport, we felt like we had been transported to a different world entirely. it felt like hawaii, only richer colors, more humid air and a sense of calm and tranquility that contrasted beautifully with our big city adventures. not only was the environment simply fantastic, but the hostel we stayed in made us love the whole place even more. it was set up to feel like you were in the jungle, but not in a cheesy way at all-- in the very best way. lots of wood paneling, simple, cozy and clean rooms, a pool, a welcoming and perfectly lit and welcoming bar/hang out area and a super friendly staff (our main contact, sophi, was simply the best, helping us plan our our time in the falls and our next few steps of the trip).

after a yummy breakfast including some Kenny G tunes, we headed up to Iguaçu Falls by bus and once we got through ticketing, me losing my sunglasses and needing to buy new ones and trekking through some short trails, we encountered the Falls, which were beyond words in magnitude, beauty and just pure awe-inspiring-ness. they span about 1.5 miles, and are surrounded by a lush green rainforest/jungle setting. we explored the whole area, taking a boat right into the bottom of the falls (getting totally drenched and me screaming for dear life as the base of the falls is deafening and scary), walking out the edge of the most intense falls, called Devils Throat (the spray from the base of the falls flies up hundreds of feet above the actual falls, the water pressure is so intense) and then taking a slow boat ride through the still waters above the falls, where we saw a crocodile from about 5 feet away (causing me to crouch in the middle of the boat while everyone else laughed at me).

it was on this adventure that it came to me that with many experiences of real, true beauty, fear and danger are almost a requisite companion experience to that beauty. as we experienced all the phenomenally beautiful facets of the falls (seeing it from above, below and next to), an element of fear and danger was always right there with us. hiking across long bridges over the smaller (but still pretty high) falls; walking to the very edge of one large fall and the looking up to see the massive flow of water above; seeing Devils Throat so close, knowing you could slip over and be gone in a second; seeing a crocodile close up; hearing the roar of the falls not far ahead and not being entirely sure the boat guide knew how to steer clear of the edge; walking for a long time over the actual edge of the falls with a pretty low railing to protect you -- all of these things were intensely beautiful, but also incredibly scary. but you could not have the beauty without the fear. miniature versions of those falls could never cause you to feel so overwhelmed by their beauty and magnificence.

i am beginning to see this paradox in all of our adventures- macchu picchu was so gorgeous, so stunning, but every time you realized how high up you were, it was terrifying. flying so many places, feeling the turbulence, knowing how risky flying is if you really think about it- these are all so scary, so fearful-- but could the beauty and experience of South America be had simply by seeing it in a picture online or in some movie? there is no way! the fear and danger of flying gave way to the beauty of this expansive and amazing experience of South America.

as i write this all out, i realize i am happy to have had this revelation, as i am one to always look into the deeper meaning of things. on this trip, i have felt a lightness, an ease, a lack of weight (in a good way). of course my mind still spends way too much time finding things to analyze and think on and try to figure out... but this metaphor or idea of beauty and fear mixing and giving way to each other is churning in me very deeply and still showing me more of itself. perhaps what i am meant to learn here is not something i will be able to control. perhaps the lessons (like this one) will come over time and unexpectedly and in more layers and nuances than i could have ever wanted.

a year in the kingdom

tonight, we saw 2 concerts in the mountains of santa cruz- gregory alan isokov and j tillman. both musicians will likely become part of my soundtrack for the winter. j tillman had won me over with the title track from "a year in the kingdom" back at the end of october. i listened to it on a particularly emotional day, one when it felt like many things were coming to a head and God was making even clearer some truths and realities i already knew- and needed to know more of.

what's genius about the song is that its lyrics evoke something in you that you don't really understand- they are heart rending and emotional and raw... but you don't quite know why, you can't quite put your finger on it. they have overtones of something to do with God, but the exact meaning is ever so slightly obscured, which makes it somehow more beautiful. i am finding so much beauty, as of late, in things i can't quite understand.

tonight, j tillman's show was at the brookdale lodge, and the section where he played was probably 40 degrees, no joke. you could see your breath. if you know me at all, you know this was not a good thing. i stayed as long as i could in the section, his voice is so perfect and everything so captivating, you want to be close and hear everything. by the end of the set, i couldn't handle anymore and so i found refuge by the fireplace in the back of the room (which provided no heat to the front of the room for some reason).

during the first song of the encore, brian and i were feeling ready to go. i told myself that if the next song wasn't "year in the kindom," then we could go. before he began the second encore song, J off-handedly said how great it would be to unplug and finish up by the fire. the small but faithful crowd convinced him that this was right and so he made his way toward the warmth, while the crowd circled around. and there, by the glow of firelight and 50 quiet, expectant listeners, he began...

when i look back on my life
a stillness passes over friends
what i stored was yours to keep
it's no more mine to reclaim than the rocks and the trees

i spent a year in the kingdom, on my way, on my way through the garden
i spent a year in the kingdom, on my way, on my way through the garden

what comfort used to pass my days
before you shook the cold from me
i have enough to hold me to your side
before release comes for me like a thief in the night

i spent a year in the kingdom, on my way, on my way through the garden
i spent a year in the kingdom, on my way, on my way through the garden

i'd give back every night bird song
i'd give back every lay in the dawn
i'd give back my singing voice

for, one more day, one more day in the kingdom

my ears recalled the october day five weeks earlier, hearing these words and music at a time when i somehow had needed them to give voice to what was going on inside. and as i remembered that, i also remembered that earlier today, i had been asking God to show up, to show me something, to show me that he was listening to me as I implored him to give me guidance about my life. and in this unexpected and perfect way, it felt like this song- being sung in the warmth of the fire, surrounded by easy, thoughtful silence- was a showing up. instead of up on a stage, away, separated, here was this song, these words - sung softly, gently, humbly, giving voice to mystery, reminding.