I've been tryin' to get down to the heart of the matter
But my will gets weak
And my thoughts seem to scatter
But I think it's about forgiveness, forgiveness
Even if, even if you don't love me anymore
Heart of the Matter
When John Muir compared entering Yosemite to going into a cathedral or a ‘holy temple’, he indicated that both actions changed the mood of the person entering. Not surprisingly, human-built cathedrals purposely come with designs intended to create impact. The vast size of the space and the architectural details can evoke feelings of awe and amazement, inducing the observer to experience what some might call “divine proximity.” Feelings of reverence, humility, inspiration, and peace accompanied by a calm state of mind can even inspire the visitor to describe the edifice as a “house of God.”
Muir’s writings over the years reveal that he experienced such changes in mood during his travels in Yosemite. In his book, My First Summer in the Sierra (1911, Chapter 2; June 23), he highlighted the essence of that mood change by saying, “Oh, these vast, calm, measureless mountain days, inciting at once to work and rest! Days in whose light everything seems equally divine, opening a thousand windows to show us God. Nevermore, however weary, should one faint by the way who gains the blessings of one mountain day; whatever his fate, long life, short life, stormy or calm, he is rich forever.”-
Yosemite can certainly change one’s mood to one of feeling “rich forever.” But that is not all. The range of altered mood states in Yosemite is unlimited. A person’s location in the Park, the time of year, and the time of day all contribute to eliciting a feeling of abundance. Yosemite’s stunning array of landscapes, exquisite reflection of light, and variable weather patterns act like a strobe light that stimulates one’s heart rate, like 10,000 lux of bright light to lift one from depression, or like “blue light [that] boosts alertness, helps memory and brain function, and elevates mood.”
The mood change can be delightfully unexpected such as the refreshment and invigoration experienced after a brief thunder shower in the middle of a sweltering August afternoon. Even knowing the forecast does not spare one from undergoing a delightful mood shift such as the peace and calm that prevails in the morning after a significant snowstorm.
Unique destinations such as the Mariposa Grove of Giant Sequoias and the Glacier Point lookout bring instant modification of one’s mood. Exposing oneself to these scenic stops can significantly enhance how one experiences this world.
One destination, in particular, impacts me in a way that has taken me a while to fully conceptualize. Knowing that it has repeatedly impacted me uniquely, I have tried to “get down to the heart of the matter” and determine what it is about this location that elevates my mood so profoundly.
The only landmark that marks the spot to which I am referring is the street sign at the entrance to Oak Lane when traveling north on Village Drive. Here at this intersection, I can view a gracious grove of black oaks that tower above the walkways and bicycle trail that direct the masses of Park visitors traversing this thoroughfare.
Unfortunately, its location may inadvertently cause visitors to miss out on the mood change the grove offers. It lies halfway between the Valley’s Welcome Center (in Yosemite Village) and the Lower Yosemite Fall Trailhead. Those who arrive at the Welcome Center can take a mile-and-a-half shuttle ride to the popular Lower Yosemite Fall trail, completely bypassing an up-close look at this gentle stand of black oaks.
For those who do choose to walk the footpath to Lower Yosemite Fall, they may be so absorbed in conversation that they too might miss out on the experience. As for bicyclists, they could easily zoom past this oaken oasis and sacrifice this specific mood change as well (although riding a bicycle in Yosemite Valley is, in itself, a mood enhancer!).
By mindfully sauntering amidst the grove, the features of the black oaks begin to impact one’s brain functioning, as if imbibing a quick-acting tonic aimed at bringing tranquility. For example, at maturity, these oaks sport massive trunks that can exceed three feet in diameter; their strength is represented in their girth. They are one of the largest mountain oaks in the western United States, stretching their forked limbs covered in black bark as high as 60-80 feet above the Valley floor, providing welcomed shade in the heat of the summer. They are intolerant of shade and thrive in rich, sandy soil, making this sunny section of the Valley a perfect location in more ways than one. The ferns that grow underneath them testify to the abundant moisture and verdant soil that nourish them.
Yet, they too stand as nourishers. Indeed, the black oak can be described as a ‘giving tree.’ It has delivered sustenance to a variety of living things over the millennia. Native American Indian tribes used its acorns to make a mash which served as a staple in their diet. According to Discovering Sierra Trees, “an Indian family ate perhaps 500 pounds of acorns a year.” Animals such as the western gray squirrel and the acorn woodpecker cherish the acorn harvest season. The black bears of Yosemite gather in earnest to fatten up for their winter dormancy on the black oaks’ prolific acorn produce.
Entering this ‘holy temple’ of black oaks makes one aware of another form of nourishment they offer. Since we all fail in some way each day, whether it be moments of impatience, a judgmental attitude of others, or self-inflicted consequences from past behavior, we all benefit from the relief that comes from being forgiven of such offenses, no matter how trivial. We benefit by knowing that past misdeeds do not need to torture us or burden us with guilt or shame, even if we deny the existence of any of our addictions, cravings, or questionable desires. Such emotional burdens strip us of the harmony we yearn for, whether it be with others or the environment we live in.
I renew that harmony amidst the overarching limbs and branches of these black oaks, comparable to the noblest columns and arches of human-built cathedrals. I find it similar to a confessional, although the unconditional oaken forgiveness comes unencumbered by the prerequisite of apologies or regret. The mood change just happens. Perhaps this location among the black oaks encapsulates the essence of the “good tidings” John Muir came to search out to ‘gain the blessings of one mountain day.’
It’s where I come to experience this uniquely changed mood. These black oaks provide a cleansing, an absolving, an uplifting, and a feeling of being relieved of my burdens. I gratefully accept the offerings of unconditional forgiveness from these obliging black oaks.
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