Ojai, California

I love Ojai, its blue skies, its vortex that vibrates high, like a Beethovan symphony, "come and look at yourself," the land says, the wildest of teachers. On the trail, a yucca blooms, its voice a herald of oncoming summer. I stop for a minute and stare at its aloneness, a new ally in the vastness of familiar territory, and for just a second it whispers, Its voice breathing too, letting me know that it will be back every late spring, a lighthouse on the ever spinning wheel, a simple act of turning a page of life.