That soaring feeling

One of the great things about living in San Francisco is that every once and a while I’ll come across a prospect that just lifts me a bit, as if I’d achieved aerodynamic properties for a fraction of a second. That happened today as I was walking up Coleridge St. I looked out to the west where the Golden Gate is and instead saw towering clouds sweeping in from the sea. I get the same sort of surge at the sight of certain mountains, waterfalls, summer thunderstorms. I feel at once very small, and powerful. Small, because it’s clear that whatever I’m looking at could crush me, and powerful because it doesn’t, because in fact I’m warm and secure – despite the fact that nature is overwhelming and incomprehensible, and the fact that there’s a stiff wind whipping in off the Pacific – I’m able to stand there looking into the closest approximation of the eye of God I can imagine, and then walk away unscathed.

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