the lone cypress

[CYPRESS TREE (the Faithfulness) - strong, muscular, adaptable, takes what life has to give, content, optimistic, craves acknowledgment, hates loneliness, passionate lover which cannot be satisfied, faithful, quick-tempered, unruly, pedantic, and careless.]

the lone cypress

I will never forget the day I encountered the lone cypress. It stood magically noble on the rocks stretched beneath my feet along California’s renowned seventeen mile drive. There in front of me a second miraculous encounter with my grandmother’s paintings coming to fruition right before my eyes. It was a profound realization. I glanced to my left to see the lone cypress, then spanned to my right to step right into a moment my grandmother painted years ago. A place as familiar as the living room walls of my parents home where the painting hangs. My grandmother painted a few dozen paintings in the years prior to her untimely encounter with cancer. She was very talented and often chose her paintings from magazines and books. She was my mentor, influence and instructor into the world of art.

When I stepped up to the platform there on California’s most prestigious pedestal to photograph the lone cypress, I immediately recognized the familiar setting. And, I knew once again that she was accompanying me on my path. She never visited California in person. She never traveled anywhere else in the world besides the winter plight of the Michigan winter bird's migration from Florida and back each year… although, I can say with confidence... she probably always wished she could have… I loved my grandmother greatly. She impacted my life very much… her memories and moments… all garnished with great importance. joy, laughter, love and guidance. We had a connection; something quite unexplainable. She, my mother and I all shared the same identity and looks. We were three of a kind. I however, took after my grandmother in her zealous characteristics including creativeness, impulsiveness, and charisma. Photographs of her as a child are a stunning mirror reflection to myself at such an age. I had always felt her presence with me over the years following her death. I didn’t mind; she was my guardian angel of sorts. Sadly, I would never feel the proximity and strength of her spirit so near to me again following this trip... I believe that she may have accompanied me to leave me behind and experience her next adventure...

I stayed in Monterrey Bay the evening prior. As I was flipping through the pages of a travel magazine, I stumbled upon a photograph of the San Carlos Borroméo de Carmelo Mission. I was shocked and intrigued to see the image. My grandmother also painted this church years prior. I shall never forget the memory. We entered her painting in the Ionia Free Fair. I was certain she would win. She choose that painting to enter into the art contest. It was absolutely lovely. The memory of it was the most lovely component thought. I never felt so proud of my grandmother as I did at that moment... my mother too. I could see the look of admiration in my mom’s eyes as we all watched my grandma Vini enter her exhibit. My mother still hangs the painting in the foyer today.

I made certain to visit the mission the following Sunday morning. When I arrived the vision was stunning. It was truly like walking into a  picture… my grandmother’s painting. The fountain, the archways of the church, the sanctuary, the bell tower… it was all very surreal as I stood in the center of the garden and looked all around. I stepped up to the church doors. They were holding a mass service that morning. They hold masses every Sunday. The church is a beautiful blessing since 1770 when it was founded. I walked around the side of the church to find a very old, very small, cemetery adorned with iron crosses. I remember the stillness and feeling of serenity in the air... the sweet sunshine shining down on me through the corridors. I was the only one there taking in this precious moment. I walked back around toward the front of the church to stand at the doors of the sanctuary again and listen in on the mass. A beautiful man dressed in the appropriate ceremonial attire stand there to my left looking in on the mass caught my eye and smiled at me… I smiled back, he was a delightful elderly man of faith… I turned to my right to see where Tim had ventured off to and immediately glanced back to the elderly man… it had to have been a mere moment… a few seconds... but, in that frozen moment, he seem to have disappeared… it was very strange to say the least… I immediately located Tim to tell him about the man… we proceeded to walk around the immediate area in front of the church doors and to the side of the church to see where he could have possibly wandered off to. It was a benevolent feeling I shall never forget. I left the mission that early morning feeling as though I'd been blessed and brushed by the wings of an angel. Absolutely beautiful!

Then later that afternoon, there on the coast overlooking the Pacific Ocean, I was able to see with my own eyes the beauty that she only projected onto her painted canvas . The very paintings displayed so elegantly at my parents house til this day. Indeed, the very same paintings I spent hours upon hours admiring in the sheer silence only allowed of a pure countryside raised girl. The paintings are graceful, peaceful and beautiful. I would get lost in them. I stared at them for hours, placing myself in the element and dreaming of how she must have felt bringing such beauty of printed life in photographs to canvas with each and every stroke of the brush in her hand. It was such a reaffirmation of her beauty and love... I left California feeling completely blessed that evening.

I often think back to the memory of that day… the memory of the church… the beauty… the lone cypress… I can personally relate to that tree. I so often feel such lonesomeness. No matter how much I desire to love others; I always seem to find myself among the loneliest of situations and surroundings... There is a grace and peace that accompanies such an existence though… perhaps that is just how some of us are to carry on… witness… live… love. It’s a gracious humility… to rise above everyday solidarity in plight of continuously reaching for greater heights…

maktub…

~ j. marshon