Some people cry when they get close to the Tiger’s Nest.  I was much too busy fighting vertigo.  I cried for the lost princess of the Taj Mahal.

I was surprised by several things about the building.  Everyone knows its basic shape.  I knew it as one of the best examples of the use of negative space -- what is enclosed within the minarets is important.  I did not realize the extent and beauty of the grounds and surrounding walls, which enclose the Taj Mahal so that it seems like a heart in a much larger graceful and beautiful space.  I did not realize that the emphasis on negative space continues in the exterior and interior of the building -- hollow areas the size of small rooms cover both inside and out.  Each surface is also made up of shallow framed areas.

I did not realize that as a visitor to a tea ceremony in Japan is led through introductory spaces to prepare him or her, the visitor to the Taj Mahal, especially now, must enter a grand domed entry gate, an expanse of gardens and pools, a second area equally grand until the building looms above you in all its haunting beauty.  Then you take off your shoes to enter the marble terrace, and then stand in line with others to enter the structure.

As I got closer to the building, I felt the same kind of force I did at Tiger’s Nest.  It was strongest inside.  To me, it was about the human heart.  I can’t describe what Tiger’s Nest was about, but it was stronger and more remote.

I believe that science and religion agree on the existence of energy fields and that they vary from place to place.  They differ, among other things, on whether the energy field is sentient and purposeful.  I’m beginning to have a real need for science to learn to detect the kind of energy spoken of by people of faith.  A challenge, but a good one.  We could do this; we could at least try.