Clarity

I am sitting at tunnel viewpoint in Yosemite looking at the view that never tires, watching the bus load of Japanese tourists with their cameras, marveling at this place that speaks its universal language of peace, beauty and permanence.

It reminds me of the opening lines of David Wagoner's powerful poem "Lost."

Stand still. The trees ahead and the bushes beside you

Are not lost.  Wherever you are is called Here.

Here.  That's what I felt as I drove through the big trees and glimpsed the morning mist  hanging in the valleys.  Here. In my life, on my path.  Clarity replaced the turmoil that had been roiling my spirit.  Here.  Wherever I am is called Here.  I am not lost.