It was magic hour—that special time in the hour or so before sunset when the sky is beautiful orange and the sun isn't quite as hot and intense as it is in the afternoon. Photographers and filmmakers make great use of this time of day in LA. I guess they're the ones who named in magic hour.
Tonight, the magic was all Pablo's. It led the way for a gang of us who hopped on bikes and rode through Griffith Park. Grady, Peter, Fred, Dean and I were headed to a climb that's known as Trash Truck Hill. We were on a mission to a road I know and love, a road so high up in the park, cars are not allowed. I told Pablo millions of stories about my climbs on this steep road—about how steep it is, about all the animals I'd see up there, and about the gorgeous view of the city.
The exact piece of road we were after was the bit that sits above Forest Lawn Cemetery. In the past year, I'd averted my eyes whenever I rode by the cemetery. This morning, I asked Peter if he wanted to ride up there—for the express purpose of pulling over and looking down on that vast swath of land on the back side of Griffith Park.
It was wonderful. It felt right. We all felt Pablo. Grady told me he thought of Pablo all the way up the steep climb and that it propelled him. Tonight was a real moment of clarity for Grady. I am proud of him. Losing Pablo has set Grady's life on a course. He knows it. He talked about it all the way down the hill. I could hear him talk about it all night. I'll let Grady tell you the rest.
While we were looking down at the cemetery, we saw three deer standing perfectly still in the green grass of the graveyard. I have always known that seeing deer is good luck—a sign of life. Please post a comment if you know the exact significance of this, so we know. At the start of the climb, I was about to mention to Peter that any sight of deer would be fantastic. Something distracted me, and I never said it. Doesn't matter. It happened.
After the deer, we stood in a circle, and did a standing meditation. My favorite kind of meditation. As we opened our eyes, half of the sun was already behind the western mountains. We stood there, and before our eyes, the sun dropped out of sight.
The glow, the purity, the hide + seek. It was our first Pablo sighting.... Or was it our tenth?