A Transcendental Journey

Twenty years ago today, I started a journey across country that I'm sure changed my life and helped me become, if not a serious writer, at least serious about writing. The journey continues, and I am grateful for both the mountains and the valleys.

Here is a little bit from A Transcendental Journey:

We know we're awake because our eyes are open.

By late afternoon, I was ready to stretch my legs. Following a particularly long swell of highway, I reached the top of a bluff. Spotting a rest stop across the highway, I pulled across and into the parking lot.

Set back a few hundred yards from the edge of the bluff, the building was long and low, mostly one big room, with a massive rectangular information desk in the center manned by several busy aides. Beneath the windows, low slung metal racks brimmed with brochures describing every attraction you could imagine, and many you couldn’t.

I strolled outside the building towards the bluff. The grass was tall, not Really Tall, but enough to hide a snake or two. So I kept my head down heading toward the brink. At the edge of the bluff, I looked up.

The slope fell sharply away hundreds of yards to where the Missouri River engraved a broad S through the grasslands. Beyond the wide impassive river, the brown flat earth stretched to the curve of the world, melding into a white horizon unguessably distant. But it wasn't the distance that held me to the spot.

There are qualities that belong to a place, that inhabit its essence and mark it in the memory. The quality of this bluff was Blue.

Blue has many names: azure, sapphire, navy, even cornflower. I have never seen a cornflower, or any blue flower for that matter. But cornflower blue I can picture in my mind: draw a luster from the earth, blend in sunlight, sift in moonlight.

What I saw from the bluff was not any blue I could imagine: not azure nor sapphire nor navy nor cornflower. Even now, when I close my eyes, I can't picture it. But I can remember how it felt, dodging my eyes and seeping unfiltered through the pores of my skin: Blueness, essence of Blue, narcotic Blue. Manifest Blue. True Blue. Transcendental Blue.

But there were two blues, not one.

We see the sky as blue because the blue electromagnetic waves of sunlight are shorter and are scattered more easily by the dust in the atmosphere. But nothing about this blue seemed scattered nor did sunlight seem required. Standing there, I realized that I had never truly seen a blue sky before. A stain had been washed from the stratosphere. Blue shone through.

Bodies of water are blue when they reflect the sky. But the Missouri had a different recipe that day, independent of the firmament above. Take a sea, fold it over and over and over like a translucent sheet, then glaze it in a tawny bed of grass. That is Missouri Blue.

Go to the Missouri River crossing.

Stand on the bluff on a cloudless day.

Blue lives there.

Comments 8

 
Rosy Cole on Sunday, 10 September 2017 17:40

This is so beautiful, my favourite passage in the book. So pleased you chose to share it with us. Thank you.

This is so beautiful, my favourite passage in the book. So pleased you chose to share it with us. Thank you.
Stephen Evans on Sunday, 10 September 2017 19:33

Thanks - I think it is my favorite too. Crossing the Threshold.

Thanks - I think it is my favorite too. Crossing the Threshold.
Nicholas Mackey on Sunday, 10 September 2017 23:25

Beautiful writing, Stephen and thank you for sharing your amazing journey with us

Beautiful writing, Stephen and thank you for sharing your amazing journey with us
Stephen Evans on Monday, 11 September 2017 01:23

Thank you!

Thank you!
Ken Hartke on Thursday, 21 September 2017 16:56

I enjoyed this. I used to live on a bluff above the Missouri River but I had to go elsewhere to become awake and see color and light. Solitary discovery of such an imposing experience is the key that unlocks awareness and expression.

I enjoyed this. I used to live on a bluff above the Missouri River but I had to go elsewhere to become awake and see color and light. Solitary discovery of such an imposing experience is the key that unlocks awareness and expression.
Stephen Evans on Thursday, 21 September 2017 21:05

Thanks, Ken. I think you are right - it really helps to get out of your comfort zone to up your awareness. Now I notice things around me all the time - just yesterday, watching the leaves beginning to turn on the trees locally. Attention must be paid, as they say.

Thanks, Ken. I think you are right - it really helps to get out of your comfort zone to up your awareness. Now I notice things around me all the time - just yesterday, watching the leaves beginning to turn on the trees locally. Attention must be paid, as they say.
Monika Schott on Sunday, 24 September 2017 05:10

This is so beautiful, Stephen. Transcending. :)

This is so beautiful, Stephen. Transcending. :)
Stephen Evans on Sunday, 24 September 2017 12:54

Thank you!

Thank you!
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Tuesday, 11 December 2018

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Latest Comments

Nicholas Mackey The Bolingbroke Hook
11 December 2018
Thank you, Stephen for taking the time to read and comment. Agreed that this method of acting the ac...
Stephen Evans The Bolingbroke Hook
09 December 2018
What a wonderful memory! I learned Shakespeare this way in college, by putting it on its feet and ac...
Stephen Evans Climbing
30 November 2018
Thank you!
Katherine Gregor Climbing
30 November 2018
Beautiful poem. I love both the meaning and the rhythm.
Monika Schott You know
25 November 2018
Thanks Jitu

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