“Nothing ever happened – Not even this ”
― Jack Kerouac, Big Sur
From beneath the trees in the canyon below came the occasional sound of laughter. Through the leaves, glimpses of Bixby Creek glistened with silver beneath the deep blue sky. It didn’t really matter to me that the secret world in the canyon could not be seen. I knew this place. “Leaves suddenly go skittering in the wind and into the creek, then floating rapidly down the creek towards the sea, making me feel a nameless horror even then of “Oh my God, we’re all being swept away to sea no matter what we know or say or do.””
Kerouac would always fill my visions of the canyon. In the distance I could hear the crashing roar of waves and knew his words hadn’t been washed away. The bridge spans memories of isolation and feelings of hopelessness lying underneath. I felt breathless.
Inscribed in the wall at the back of the Old Monterey Gaol is a peace sign. No one ever escaped from here, except in their minds. The grille must have made the air within feel dank and lifeless. Who carved the graffitti, who suffered within?
For a little over hundred years the Old Monterey Gaol held prisoners. How long would the date 1854 carved so boldly in the lintel over the entrance remain, in contrast to the peace sign at the rear. Not all visions of isolation lead to hopelessness but sometimes we can be encouraged and reminded of peace.
Lying in my hospital bed healing, on the hill between Monterey and Carmel, I looked out at the trees and saw them come alive. In the leaves and branches I could see faces. Perhaps these were the spirits of the place, or of those who had not left yet from its dreaming. It caused me neither fear or horror, but instead peace.
From my home in the other side of the Pacific, I now yearn to look south once more towards Point Lobos and Big Sur from this place of enchantment. I had not been washed away, and my life taken on the tide.
Perhaps nothing ever really happened…not even this.