We found ourselves there. It could have easily been anywhere. But on that day, there in the garden, we were laid out in the warm sun on that toasty towel. In a serene, quiet bubble of a noisy, cancerous city. A sanctuary within Los Angeles, high up in the topography of Mount Washington. While our hangovers lingered slightly overhead, our faint smiles grew wider. The trees swayed in the lazy breeze, almost exactly to the tempo of our mood yet as sporadically as the traffic only one half mile away.
We’d found a magical place, nestled just north of downtown LA. One that could calm even the most raucous soul to a silent simmer. At the Center for Self-Realization, it is made possible to find the kernel of yourself. The part of your own person that you barely hear, even when you’re trying your hardest to listen. With our ears to the pavement, all we receive is outside negativity, maybe a feared foot fungus. It is not the the external instability that we seek. Rather, it’s the self that’s hard to see which we wearily want.
We’d found a magical place, nestled just north of downtown LA. One that could calm even the most raucous soul to a silent simmer. At the Center for Self-Realization, it is made possible to find the kernel of yourself. The part of your own person that you barely hear, even when you’re trying your hardest to listen. With our ears to the pavement, all we receive is outside negativity, maybe a feared foot fungus. It is not the the external instability that we seek. Rather, it’s the self that’s hard to see which we wearily want.
In the garden, the monk approached us, notifying us of the facility closing. We stood up with utmost hesitation. Just above the hedge’s high point, we saw the view that reminded us of our position. The iconic skyline of the city, framed as if by an artist, a view from the our grassy patch. Just for us. The context of our basking spot was everything we needed and just as much wanted but still well within county lines of the place we needed to escape, temporarily. The city that gifted us that hangover. The community in which many had forgotten about quiet times in grassy fields. A society masked in smog, forgetful of the nature that birthed its own species.
Grateful for the short-lived rest, we uprooted our zone of zen and, later, zeal. It was one we would return to, again and again.
A piece of paradise in the City of Angels that few know exist.
More work to find than a TV set, remote and the flick of a wrist.
Find new cool places. They’re usually not far.
It’ll make you feel better when you head to the bar.
- 7Ply Epic
Grateful for the short-lived rest, we uprooted our zone of zen and, later, zeal. It was one we would return to, again and again.
A piece of paradise in the City of Angels that few know exist.
More work to find than a TV set, remote and the flick of a wrist.
Find new cool places. They’re usually not far.
It’ll make you feel better when you head to the bar.
- 7Ply Epic
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