Something Holy

Three years ago my brother moved up to Northern California from the San Fernando Valley where he lived for many years and where we grew up.  His new home was situated in the Redwoods in Sonoma County, North of Berkeley where my sister lived.  It’s an amazing place - tall trees surround his home and fill the hills around.  It’s incredibly quiet - there’s lots of rain during the Fall and Winter, and fog comes down the nearby Russian River during the Summer.

As the three of us transitioned to life without my parents - they had passed away a few years before - we found that we had to connect with each other in a new way.  We made a commitment to be together at his place in the woods - to meet there every couple of months.  

I would fly into San Francisco from Chicago and meet my sister in Berkeley.  We’d get some food and coffee and head up North.  Often we’d show up in the evening, after my brother had taken one of his five hour hikes near the coast.  It was always wonderful to see him again, to make a fire in his wood burning stove, make dinner together - maybe watch an episode of Star Trek.

Lots of times at the end of the evening we would go outside onto his front deck.  As we opened the front door it was like stepping out into the void - it was so dark out - so completely black.  But then our eyes would adjust - we’d look up and see so many stars.  It was breathtaking.  You could see the outline of the Milky Way, sometimes satellites twinkling past.  And framing it all were the tops of these tall Redwoods.  We could almost hear them breathing.  Such a powerful presence.

It was like we were in a cathedral. In the presence of the most sacred, timeless beauty imaginable.  Something Holy.