"Then Helen, daughter of Zeus, took other counsel. Straightway she
cast into the wine of which they were drinking a drug to quiet all
pain and strife, and bring forgetfulness of every ill."
... Homer
The Odyssey (referring to Nepenthe, a mythical drug of
forgetfulness)
"Quaff oh quaff this kind Nepenthe and forget the lost Lenore."
... Edgar Allan Poe The Raven (referring to his lonely man's
lost love Lenore)
Highway 1 meandering along the California coast between Carmel and Big
Sur has surely got to be one of the most majestic
drives
on
the planet.
I'm on my way to some long overdue RnR in Ripplewood on the banks of
the Big Sur river. This is all very spontaneous. A half an hour ago I
was headed north in the opposite direction when
the voice in my head
said "Go to Big Sur.". "Now that's a great idea" I said,
appreciating the suggestion while ignoring it at the same time. Two
minutes later, there it was again: "Go to Big Sur" which I appreciated
and ignored again. But when I heard it for a third time, I
looked for a spot to make a U-turn ... and found myself
driving
south along the sheer cliffside road on the edge of the Pacific ocean,
leaving almost all semblances of modern digital civilization far behind
me, already exhaling, relaxing so deeply in a way that only this
uniquely majestic power spot on
the planet
can afford.
Nepenthe, a famed restaurant, sits as if bolted to the cliff high above
the Pacific ocean on the south side of Big Sur. Its views are simply
magnificent. Other descriptors like "awesome", "majestic", and "regal"
come to mind. But whether taken individually or combined, none of them
come close to capturing the experience of being at
Nepenthe. The property was once owned by storied movie magnate Orson
Wells of Citizen Kane fame. The majesty of Nepenthe has,
like text beyond the statute of limitations, entered the public domain.
It is now arguably one of the seven wonders of the modern
experiential world.
The place is crowded yet
quiet
when I arrive. It commands respect, its visitors eating and drinking in
hushed, dulcet tones, respectful of this almost holy
atmosphere they're in. I nearly don't notice the maîtresse
d' standing next to me,
quietly
asking "How many, Sir?". "Just me" I say, and she smiles and asks me to
follow her. All the seats are taken. All the tables are full. Where
will she seat me? In the kitchen? Then she stops by an empty table, the
only empty table here today. But it's not just a table.
It's the table, situated at the corner of the
dining room. There's absolutely nothing in the way blocking my view of
the magnificence in front of and below me. I'm stunned. I stand
transfixed. "Do you like it, Sir?" she asks. "Do I?" I
respond after a pause to catch my breath, "It's the table!
Thanks for saving it for me!". "You're welcome, Sir" she smiles - like
she ... knows ... and I'm already opening my laptop.
I order some snacks and a drink, arrange everything on the table
just so, then start writing (or perhaps better stated, writing
starts me). There's so much raw power here (Nepenthe is definitely one
of
the planet's
great power spots ie it's one of
the planet's
chakras if you will). And it's all I can do to have
my fingers
on the keyboard keep up with my outflowing thoughts. The quality of
creativity and power that's spontaneously
freed up
here, becoming available in a place like this, comes as if gushing out
of a fire hydrant. You'd really have to try hard to have writers' block
in a place like this! Hours go by. The sun is setting. Daylight is
dimming. Then an extraordinary thing happens: as people are leaving,
they stop by my table, standing in line, eagerly asking "Who
are you? What are you doing here?". I tell them I'm
a writer, that I've written nearly
two thousand essays.
"What do you write about?". "Transformation" is my
terse
response. "Can I buy your book?" they ask.
"I've not written a book.
I'm
full on
on-line" I say, offering them my URL (Uniform
Resource Locator)
