The Spirit of Yosemite

A timeless spirit dwells in Yosemite that is unique. It is a spirit unlike any other that can be found. But more importantly the spirit tells stories through the fresh wind, the rich water and towering cliffs.

Everything in the park chants a tale and weaves poetry through its wild landscape. To jaunt through a grove, or a swim in sparkling rivers, or letting an invigorating breeze caress your skin is but a partnership with the story being told. The crags and cliffs, which are far more ancient than the lives that live on them, speaks in a low murmuring that time has lost.

Though I have be explored mountains in China, and all over the United States, none so profoundly touched my soul than Yosemite. I have never seen God like this. I never knew this side of Him.

He his gentle in the quiet chirp of a sparrow, silent and sturdy like the rocky faces in the valley, and boisterous and powerful in the waterfalls. God was welcoming and kind, but he has power that has taken many lives. He is not a God who cannot be toyed with, but respected and amazed. You can play with God in this place, which He delights in, but don't press too hard or your life can be snatched away by a sudden gust shoving you off a towering ledge.

The story of Yosemite is constant. It is the story of creation and it is the story of the earth. God not only dwells among clouds, but also in the meadows, between the smooth pebbles and the rivers' surface that trickles above them. The novel that is Yosemite is flavored with a distinct voice that transcends any other voices. God is real in Yosemite. Everything that man has made, tries to emulate such a voice, but can never recreate what God has already done.