From a vacation to Santa Barbara, I had a most strange experience. Well that’s nots so rare for me, as am an intuitive. This is a fragment of a longer story.
I deciided to drive back home, that late Sunday afternoon. I was out of money. I drove back down on the shorter front road to Ventura, past odd clusters of shops, got onto the hot and crowded freeway, cursing a little, realizing how tired I was, turned off onto the coast road again, longer but less crowded, and drove and drove, feeling discouraged and felt slightly lost through Oxnard, and finally took a long plain road through empty fields towards the ocean where I was surprised to see the silhouette of Santa Rosa Island on the horizon revealed through afternoon mist, and arrived at the ocean, back at that same huge dark boulder on the shore. The expansive, glittering gray blue ocean opened outward, and suddenly I could feel music starting some-where in the depths of my mind, washing over me, the great silent music of the swaying ocean where it meets the shore, the rolling tides and the endless motion of the surf, indescribable, only a great composer could translate it into symphony. I drove on and after arriving in Santa Monica, I missed the freeway turn-off and wound up trapped in the glittering town traffic of the wealthy in their Mercedes, going out to Sunday dinner in fancy beach restaurants. I fought my way through crowded streets, got lost again, and finally found the freeway home.