Church|| By My side
Early November took me and my camera to the high country of Yosemite National Park in California. It was a trip with my youngest daughter, a much-needed escape from the daily hustle of Marin County. We're fortunate to call Marin home, but sometimes you just need a change of scenery to reset.
I had planned to capture some photos, and I did, but the one I’m sharing this month is one I’ve titled "Church." It was taken on a very early Sunday morning. My daughter had asked if we could wake up before dawn and drive deep into Yosemite to watch the sunrise from a high point. At first, I wondered whether this 15-year-old sophomore—busy with school and soccer—would actually want to get up early on her day off. But at 5 a.m., there she was, waking me up and ready to go.
We made our way to a spot with a stunning view of Half Dome (visible on the left side of the photo). The air was crisp, and you could feel that California winter was near—Yosemite winters mean snow. There was something about that fresh mountain air, and as we joined a small group of other early risers, the stillness was palpable. Some were quietly taking photos, others just taking in the scene, while a few even meditated or did yoga as the sun began to rise.
As I stood there, I thought about the many religious stories I’d learned in Catholic school—the idea that mountains were sacred places. From Sinai to Zion, mountains have long been the backdrop of holy events in both the Old and New Testaments. In fact, mountains are mentioned in Scripture over 500 times, often symbolizing closeness to God because they rise toward the sky. It's said that this is why, for centuries, churches have been built on steep cliffs or mountaintops, as if to draw nearer to the divine.
Though we weren’t inside a man-made church, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of reverence in that moment. Standing atop the world, with my daughter beside me, looking out over the majestic granite cliffs and towering trees, I was reminded that nature, in all its grandeur, can evoke a profound sense of holiness. The sky above, painted with clouds that seemed to stretch into eternity, made it impossible not to believe there’s something beyond this life. That, in that moment, I felt closer to something greater than myself—closer to love, to wonder, and to the sacredness of the world around us.
It's funny how the trips we take with no set intention often turn out to be the ones that leave the biggest impact. In the quiet of the early morning, in the stillness of the mountains, something shifts inside. And maybe that’s what this time of year—this month of November—is all about: a reminder that, if we slow down enough to really see, we have so much to be thankful for. Even when we don’t plan for it, life has a way of offering us moments that touch us deeply, bringing us back to what truly matters.
By My Side
I edited the photo I’m sharing this month, Church, while listening to "By My Side" by the Australian band INXS. I've long been a fan of their music, and of Michael Hutchence's haunting voice. His passing left us too soon, but his legacy, alongside the musical contributions of his bandmates, remains a powerful force. "By My Side" was written by Andrew Farriss, Chris Thomas, Kirk Pengilly, and Hutchence, and though the song might seem simple on the surface, it carries a profound depth of meaning, particularly about love, support, and the quiet, enduring power of connection.
As I stood atop the mountains of Yosemite, camera in hand, I couldn’t help but feel the presence of those who have remained by my side through my 51 years of life. I thought of those I’ve lost, especially in the past year—people who left an indelible mark on my heart. Two of them were new friends who entered my life over the last six years, and the bond we shared was unexpected but profound. Their absence is something I still struggle to grasp, especially when traveling to their respective cities, when I instinctively think of reaching out to them, only to remember they are no longer there.
Yet, in that moment in Yosemite, I also thought of those who have lifted me up and supported my family over the years. Yes, I sent out a well-intentioned thought to them, into the universe, as I watched the sunrise. I thought of those who’ve come back into my life, deepening relationships through shared experiences, and of those who are no longer physically with me but will always remain in my heart. As time fades away the sharpness of pain, it’s the good memories that remain, and they are powerful.
By My Side revolves around the idea of a constant, unconditional presence—someone who stands by another person, no matter what challenges or hardships life may throw their way. It’s not about grand gestures or dramatic declarations; it’s about the quiet, unwavering support that holds you up through both the small moments and the big ones. The idea of standing “by my side” suggests a commitment that isn’t fleeting, but enduring—offering silent support, sharing the weight of the journey, and providing the comfort of knowing that someone is there.
This sentiment of loyalty and companionship hit me deeply as I looked out over Yosemite’s vast landscape. Life can be unpredictable and often challenging, and sometimes what we need most isn’t advice or solutions, but simply the presence of someone who is there with us, standing beside us through it all. Just as the natural beauty of Yosemite has the power to ground us and put our lives into perspective, so too does the presence of a supportive person. It’s the kind of love that doesn’t need to shout to be heard—it’s simply felt, and it can help restore a sense of balance even in the darkest of times.
By My Side, from INXS’s 1990 album X, holds a special place in my heart because of its deep emotional resonance. In an interview with Rolling Stone, Andrew Farriss, the band’s primary songwriter, explained that they wanted to explore emotional depth and melodic simplicity in their music. The song is a perfect reflection of that intention. It speaks to the human experience in its most raw and authentic form—the joy, the pain, the loss, and the quiet moments of connection that we often overlook. In many ways, it reminds me of my own life and the people who’ve stood by me, who’ve supported me without fanfare, and who’ve been present even when words couldn’t fully capture what we needed from each other.
As I listened to this song while editing "Church", I was reminded of how music can unlock memories and emotions, and how it can anchor us in moments of reflection. For me, this song became a backdrop to the photo I captured in Yosemite—a photo that, in its own way, represents not just the beauty of nature, but the beauty of the relationships that have shaped my life. The connection between people, like the quiet beauty of the landscape, is sacred. And as I think of those who have stood by me—those who have been my refuge in moments of struggle—I realize that, in many ways, this is what church is all about. Not necessarily a building or a structure, but the space where love, support, and connection create something holy. When we reflect on what we’re truly grateful for, I’m reminded that the greatest blessings are the people who stand by us—through everything.