The Approach of the Approach of Splendor

We recently spent the better part of a week over on Maui.  Some highlights of the trip are a bit on-the-nose, like sunrise at the summit of a dormant volcano, or a lovely day spent lounging by the tranquil resort pool with smoothie service.  But my favorite moments of just about any trip are usually completely off the radar of anyone else.  Like the afternoon I spent roaming a Prague cemetery and took some of my most favorite photos.  You get some odd looks when you describe that your favorite moment of a four-country European vacation was a solitary sojurn, filled with ivy-covered gravestones.  

We took a hike to a spectacular waterfall, Pipwai Falls, way out in East Maui past Hana in the Kipahulu district of Haleakalā National Park.  A place that is simultaneously remote and yet well-touristed.  The hike was a 6-mile out-and-back along a stream we had to ford at one point, culminating at a small clearing surrounded on three sides by soaring vertical rock walls and a 400-foot-tall water cascade.  Stunning.  But it wasn't my favorite part of the hike, by far.  

No, it was this boardwalk section through a bamboo forest.  Anyone who knows me knows how much I love light.  A deeper metaphor, yes, but the photographer in me enjoys the changing nature of light, the play of light with objects, the qualities it possesses from one time and space to another.  It is fleeting and it is lovely and it is holy.  Anyhow, we stepped from jungly streamside forest into this other world.  The light filtering through the leafy canopy into the tall bamboo shafts.  The sound they made as the wind sifted through them - the largest bamboo wind chime on earth.  I lagged back from the group just to linger a while in it, to listen and to simply be.  I must have looked ridiculous, completely overjoyed to walk through a patch of overgrown grass, which wasn't even the hike's destination.

From Frederick Buechner's The Alphabet of Grace:

Two apple branches struck against each other with the limber clack of wood on wood.  That was all - a tick-tack rattle of branches - but then a fierce lurch of excitement at what was only daybreak, only the smell of summer coming, only starting back again for home, but oh Jesus, he thought, with a great lump is his throat and a crazy grin, it was an agony of gladness and beauty falling wild and soft like rain.  Just clack-clack, but praise him, he thought. Praise him.  Maybe all his journeying, he thought, had been only to bring him here to hear two branches hit each other twice like that, to see nothing cross the threshold but to see the threshold, to hear the dry clack-clack of the world's tongue at the approach of the approach of splendor.

And because the augenblick will not verweile, the return trip through the bamboo was completely different.  One, it was no longer a delightful surprise - it was now a known entity, the joy of discovery was finished.  Two, an hour later after a pause at the falls, and of course the light's angles had changed.  Others may keep their waterfall; I, however, will carry that bamboo around with me forever.  Clack clack.