The Hawk

Today I drove out to Cabrillo National Monument on Point Loma to view San Diego and the ocean and to put everything in perspective. I wanted to remind myself that compared to the world, I am small and inconsequential and therefore should not be so self-conscious about my actions; but I also wanted to remind myself of where I stand and how I relate to everything around me. This spit of land seemed the perfect place to do this because from its vantage you can see the sprawling city to the east and nothing but the Pacific Ocean to the west.

I walked down bayside trail, taking the occassional picture and looking for some inspiration for painting as I went. There were a lot of other people on the trail so I didn't spend too much time down at the bottom amongst the families taking pictures of San Diego backdrops and friends posing as naval planes landed not far behind them on the naval base at Coronado. As I climbed back up the hillside I came upon a couple seemingly observing the view. I stopped several yards behind them to take a picture out across the bay, then moved to continue on. As I passed them, they greeted me and asked "Did you see the hawk?" I looked where they were pointing and there in the bush about 10 feet in front of my face was a hawk. It was so close that I could see the light reflected in its inky eyes. It appeared indifferent to our presence and continued to perch, with an air of nonchalance and a slight egotism, upon the bush. For some reason I could not bring myself to take a picture. I feared perhaps by immortalizing it in my camera I would steal its soul, like a Native American. Or maybe I just didn't want to reduce the moment to a 2D photo. At any rate, it just didn't seem appropriate.

Last time I was out on Point Loma there were whales. I didn't see those until someone pointed them out to me either. I think this might be a fitting metaphor for my life right now. I'm too concerned with the big picture (as in "who will I marry", "what will my career be?", "what the heck will I DO with my life?") to see the details.

At the Lucy exhibit I went to at the Pacific Science Center over the holidays, I read that the archeologists who found her employed locals from the area to help them search for excavation sites because the locals were so familiar with the patterns of the land that they could detect small differences in the landscape that would have been missed by someon unfamiliar with the area. So, for example, something that seems like a small rock in the sandy earth to us would be recognized as a bone or fossil to the local tribesmen. I would be horrible at this job.

I feel that I need to develop the ability to see and appreciate the details of my landscape rather than just the big picture. This seems incongruous with my goal to not take life so seriously, but maybe its not so far off. I mean, you can't appreciate black without white or good without evil or strength without weakness. Perhaps to appreciate the silly side of life one also has to recognize the seriousness of it. It's all a part of determining what is important about life and where you fall within the patterns of the world.