Traveling through Time and Myth on Laurel Street

Laurel Street begins at the bay and rises steeply to the first mesa where, in a city park as it was in Eden, an exotic garden has been planted. The garden ends where the mesa ends, at a canyon, but the Laurel Street Bridge carries its travelers over the canyon to the second mesa. Laurel Street continues, passing, connecting or progressing past, as if through time or from myth to myth, the Museum of Man, the Museum of Art, and the Museum of Natural History, and finally ends at a grand fountain at the entrance to the Museum of Science. Just past this last museum is another canyon, larger than the first, much larger and deeper. From the museum and the fountain a traveler cannot see the bottom. It appears as an abyss.

The second fall is harder than the first.

Before arriving at the Museums of Natural History and Science, a traveler passes a lane that leads to an amphitheater that reminds me of Rome in an abstract way. Passing by early in the morning I hear music from the pipe organ in the theater. The theater benches are empty, except for a few people sitting alone who seem to be meditating on memories, or choices.

Standing at the fountain before the edge of the second canyon, the deeper canyon, I search for a distant focal point, but see none. I see paths leading down into the canyon, but I see none rising out of it in the distance. I know that farther east there are homes and businesses and schools and hospitals, but they seem to be built in the abyss, not above it. Even farther to the east there are mountains and desert. I have searched their paths and found places grand and beautiful, and yet Laurel Street still seems to end at an abyss.

Geography is not the problem.

Walking back down Laurel Street towards the bay, the sight of archers in a wood remind me of Apollo’s desperate reaching for Daphne. The sight of an old cathedral along the way reminds me of the liberal pastor inside who long ago lost his faith and now reaches desperately for meaning in a word: resurrection.

The second fall is harder than the first.