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I took some time away to celebrate my sixtieth birthday this past weekend. Over the preceding week I wrote hundreds of words, aspiring to provide a hopeful summary of thoughts on entering a new and admittedly advanced decade of living. However, in the end I choose to mark the transition not with so many words, but a photograph I took from the train as it passed the bluffs near Point Conception. Somber and also sacramental with a sunburst in the sky and a tiny trickle of living water in the arroyo, the photo was taken from a point at which I've so often wished to be: not only a point en route along the California coast, but also a point at which I was feeling not as learned as I could be, and hopeful of learning more.