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Yo. Se. Mi. Te.

March 22, 2009

These cliffs are unreal. I thought that the cliffs at Big Sur were majestic and huge.

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But no,
those are tiny.

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Those little things look like little British dollhouse cliffs compared to these. It’s snowing. And magical. In here, the world is white. You look straight ahead, into the trees, these white covered trees, and you think you could be anywhere at all. And then you look up. And the thing is, these peaks are so high that they’re outside your normal line of vision. So you forget that they are towering over you, that you are breathing their air, and that they are so old and great and that you are standing in their bellies. At any moment these cliffs could crumble and you would be swallowed by the enormity of this place and nothing would remain. Not a thing. Except the breathing trees and the heaving rocks and maybe a splash of what was you somewhere underneath it all. You look up, and are shocked to realise that they’re there, because you’d forgotten. They’re so big they’re oppressive. They’re so big that it’s scary.

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It’s scary because next to that bigness you feel well and truly like… nothing.

What a good place to check your ego.

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