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Hanging
Out in the Sky:
“No,
I want to go experience the storm from up
here.”
We walk the remaining one hundred yards
up along the ridge and then start down a set of
steps that have been cut into the stone of the
mountain.
The steps lead down about 30 feet to a
ledge and what appears to be a cabin growing out
of the side of the cliff.
Without the stairs, the ledge and the
cabin on it would be inaccessible to all but a
skilled rock climber.
About
halfway down Jazbell stops and reaches into a
small, inconspicuous opening in the side of the
mountain.
She retrieves a key and we proceed
downward to our destination.
She inserts the key and twists it
slightly.
Withdrawing the key, she gives the door a
gentle push, and it silently swings open.
She then turns to me and says, “Stoney,
would you put the key back for me, please?”
“Certainly,”
I say.
I am anxious to see what’s inside the
cabin so, in spite of my racing heart and heavy
breathing from our brisk hike; I scurry up the
steps, replace the key, and quickly return.
As I enter, I find Jazbell opening one of
the sliding glass windows that cover the entire
wall opposite the cliff.
Beneath the windowsill, which is about 40
inches above the floor, a heavy, steel I-beam
crosses from one end of the cabin to the other.
The section from floor level to the steel
bar is also filled in with glass, so a clear
view of the valley floor is available even from
where I stand at the entrance door.
Above the windows, at ceiling level, another
steel bar crosses the cabin.
From that top steel bar, the roof slants
upward and back toward the cliff at about
fifteen degrees of angle.
The ceiling/roof, for the first four
feet, is also glass.
The first four feet of the sidewall opposite the
doorway match my description of the end wall in
which Jazbell just opened a window.
Vertical pine boards cover the remaining
twenty feet of that sidewall. The boards are their natural color and are covered with
a clear finish.
The portion of the ceiling that’s not
glass is covered with a material that I cannot
identify without closer examination.
In looking to the rear of the cabin, I
see that other than where the walls, floor and
roof attach, the back of the cabin is the
natural rock of the canyon wall.
On the valley side of the door through
which we just entered, a seven-foot section of
glass wall matches the end wall that is hanging
out into the canyon.
The wall between the door, and the cliff
is covered with shelves or closed cabinets.
Close to the door and at eye level is a
carefully printed sign that says, “Shoes here
please!”
An arrow leads my eyes to a series of
cubicles that can hold shoes or boots.
I close the door, remove my shoes, place
them in a cubicle, cross the carpeted floor to
the window, and look out at the view. I feel like I’m floating in the sky. I place my hand on the windowsill and attempt to shake
it. It
barely moves. Whoever designed this structure didn’t figure in cost
as a factor.
The quality of everything I see matches
that of the house we just left.
I look more closely at the windows.
The frames are painted sky blue on the
inside and forest green on the outside.
Looking at where the edges join the
window casing, there is no paint.
The frames appear to be made of stainless
steel.
Although the glass is thick and heavy,
the window rolls easily with just a light touch.
I lean out and look down.
I’m amazed at the view.
Beneath me, the cliff goes straight down
for about 300 feet, and then begins an angled
descent to the valley floor about 1500 feet
below.
Across the valley to the east, I see a
sheer, steep, canyon wall about three quarters
of a mile away.
As I look to my left and then to my
right, I see that the canyon walls on this, the
west side of the valley, fall back so that the
ledge we are on extends out into the valley
providing a clear view several miles to the
north up the canyon and a view to the south all
the way to Springfield about 20 miles away.
We are also high enough to see over the
ridge on the other side of the valley.
To my surprise, rather than a series of
mountaintops, I’m looking at a plateau that
stretches to the east for miles.
Beyond the plateau, I see distant
mountaintops.
Although we are still under clear sky
with bright sunshine, I look to the left and see
the dark, ominous-looking clouds that fill the
northern sky.
As I watch, dual flashes of lightning
light the clouds.
I count, one thousand one, one thousand two,
one thousand three. . .
My count reaches one thousand thirteen
before I hear the beginning of the accompanying
wave of thunder.
Sound travels at 1,088 feet per second,
approximately 742 m.p.h
That’s about one mile every five
seconds, so the lightning strike was a little
over two and one half miles away.
The sound amazes me as much as the view,
for it is not a simple, single sound.
It is rather a wave that echoes and then
re-echoes off the canyon walls, giving the
effect I might expect if I were sitting under a
giant bowling alley.
I
look at Jazbell.
She smiles and says,
“The windows aren’t rattling.
You haven’t heard anything yet.
We still have a few minutes to get
comfortable.”
I
say, “These
windows don’t look like they will rattle.”
“Believe
me, they will,” she says.
I examine the windows again.
While I am looking at the windows and
their frames, Jazbell opens the backpack and
takes out two bottles of water.
My focus is interrupted as she hands me
one of the bottles.
“This
is for you,” she says.
We’ve just had some rather strenuous
exercise, so move around for a minute or two.
Continue to breathe deeply, stretch your
body and settle in to being here.”
She then proceeds to do for herself what she has
recommended to me.
I again allow myself to follow her lead,
and, although I can’t match her flexibility,
together we move and stretch.
After a couple of minutes, I stop and sit
on the couch that faces the window.
Jazbell joins me and says, “I’m going
to take a moment now to state my intentions for
being here.
Would you like to join me?”
By now, I’ve gotten used to her habit of
starting each new activity with a consciously
stated intention, so I say, ”Yes, my intention
is to experience and enjoy a thunder storm from
this unique vantage point and to share that
experience with you.”
Jazbell
says, “My intention is to experience again the
awesome power of God’s creations and to open
myself to who I really am."
“Hmm,
I like that idea,” I say.
“May I plagiarize your intentions for
myself?”
“Of
course,” she says.
So,
with deliberate and conscious intent, I say,
“My intention is to experience the awesome
power of God’s creations, to share that
experience with Jazbell, and to open myself up
to who I really am.”
Jazbell
looks at me and says, “I hope you are prepared
to receive what you’ve just spoken into
existence.”
“I
think I am,” I say.
“Well,
if you just think you are, may I add little prayer of support to your
declaration?”
“Yes,
please do.”
She
proceeds to pray, “I speak now to Pure God,
Pure Goddess and All, to Divine Mother, Divine
Father, to Jesus to Krishna, and to all the
beings of love and light who are here with us.
With love, appreciation, and with deep
gratitude, we say thank you for watching over us
and caring for us.
Thank you for guiding and supporting both
of us in manifesting our intentions to
experience the awesome power of Your creations,
in sharing that experience with each other, and
in opening ourselves up to who we really are.
Thank you for your divine guiding light
and for your love.”
Then after a moment of silence, she adds,
“We have spoken and so it is.”
We both sit in silence, looking at each other.
After a minute or so, I get up, walk to
the open window, and lean out to look at the
approaching storm clouds.
I can now easily see the distinct wall of
rain approaching.
To the southwest, the sun, although still
visible, is slowly being obscured by clouds.
I
return and sit with Jazbell.
I look at her and say, “Thank you for
your prayers of support, and thank you for
bringing me here.
Like you, this place is one of a kind.
I’ll bet there isn’t anything even
remotely like this anywhere else on the entire
planet.”
“You
are certainly right about that,” she says.
I
relax enjoying the company and enjoying the
view.
As I look across the valley, I see
another lightning strike on the distant plateau.
I count out loud, one thousand one, one
thousand two . . .
This time the count reaches only nine
when I hear the accompanying thunder.
The windows rattle slightly as the sound
echoes and then re-echoes off the canyon walls.
I get up again and go to the window.
Jazbell follows me.
I put my arm around her shoulder and
together we watch in silence as the storm moves
closer.
I feel uniquely blessed as we stand
there.
I shift my focus between watching the
approaching storm and clandestinely looking at
Jazz.
At one point she catches me staring at
her.
I quickly look away.
She simply smiles and says nothing.
We stand there for what I would guess is
about ten minutes as the wind picks up and the
lightning flashes get closer.
Some of the thunderclaps are so powerful
now that I actually feel them in my chest.
I am particularly fascinated by the thunder.
The sounds vary, depending upon the
direction from which they come.
Thunder originating from the plateau
across the valley hits with a boom that rocks
the windows and then reverberates back across
the valley only to hit the wall and return with
a lesser intensity.
The cycle continues for several rounds
and becomes softer and more distant with each
round until it finally fades into the whistle of
the wind.
Thunder coming down the valley from the north
sounds like a bowling ball on a giant, overhead,
bowling alley.
The echo from across the valley is still
there, but the sound is uniquely different.
As we stand there together, without a word, Jazbell
dips down under my arm that’s around
her shoulder and walks back to the area near the
door where our shoes are. From the shelf she retrieves a glass jar, opens the jar
and takes something out.
I can’t see what it is.
She re-seals the jar, places it back on
the shelf and returns to the window.
She takes my hand, lifts my hand and arm
to shoulder level and does a 360-degree spin.
She ends up close against my left side
with my arm again around her shoulder.
She smiles up at me and my heart skips
another beat.
I take a deep breath to regain my composure and,
as I exhale, I see that she is holding a
balloon.
She hands me the balloon and says.
“Would you blow this up please?’
I blow up the balloon and tie the end in
a knot.
“Now
hold it between your two hands like you were
holding a basketball.”
I hold the balloon as instructed.
In less that one minute, I am aware of
why I’m holding the balloon.
Lightning flashes on the plateau across
the valley.
When the resulting thunder reaches us,
the balloon vibrates like a drum, and I feel the
thunder, not only in my chest, but also in the
balloon between my hands.
Jazbell takes the balloon and places it between
us with one side on her belly and the other
against mine.
We hold each other, look into each
other’s eyes and, with the next roll of
thunder, we vibrate together.
She then moves the balloon up under our
chins.
The next roll of thunder makes us both
laugh.
She then takes the balloon and releases
it into the wind.
Almost instantly, the balloon rises above
the roof and disappears behind us.
We continue to watch as the wall of rain
approaches.
The sun is completely hidden now, and the
wind is quite strong.
The wall of rain looks more and more
ominous as it approaches.
My heart is beating faster now.
I know that I’m perfectly safe and yet,
I feel like I’m about to be washed away by a
tidal wave.
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