Speaking Through New Eyes
Leading from the Heart
My Home
Monday October 22, 2007
Driving down from Santa Fe yesterday, seeing the Sandia Mountains, I knew I was coming home. I realized that I have been living in the shadow of those enchanted peaks for over half of my life. That’s something, for someone who moved more than 30 times before she was 30 years old.
It came to me, long about Bernalillo, that the theme for this sojourn, the message, the learning, the metaphor,is to live from here on by seeing things, old and new, through new eyes, and to lead from my heart.
I feel more refreshed than I can remember. By taking this trip I’ve gotten to experience and clarify parts of myself that there never seemed to be time or space enough to really visit with and come to know in a deeper sense. What is more remarkable than the effect of that for me (which is major on its own) is how it has impacted the way that Ted and I are rediscovering one another. We are tenderly viewing the old and familiar through fresh, new eyes, and it is splendid !
I feel more seen, appreciated, and valued than ever. I feel the ease that I have experienced myself these past 3 weeks has taken hold in this joyous reunion. The paradox is remarkable, as I went looking for my solo self and it has actually brought me back to my couplehood more deeply and completely than ever. Who could ask for more than that?
New eyes within my relationship, for my work, and finding my way in the world… New eyes that have given me voice; voice to speak, write, create, and grow, new eyes to view what speaks to and from my heart, and permission to lead from that heart vision, that perspective of love, acceptance, and openness to all that is (even skunks).
I’m home now… I forgot how comforting and soothing the home that Ted and I have created is to my spirit and my senses. My garden is still blooming, and going to seed at the same time. The glorious New Mexico sun and sky and autumn light welcome me here. Butterflies still flit around in the yard, as if they know that I planted special plants just for them. I’m home, and for now the journeying is complete, and I am complete, for as we all know, home is where the heart is…
Thanks for accompanying me on this journey. It has been a pleasure to share it with you…
Monday, October 22, 2007
Homeward Bound
Saturday, October 20, 2007 (Didn't get to post this 'til today due to technical difficulties...)
Meeting Ted in Santa Fe for a few days was brilliant! We are having such a good time, reconnecting and sharing our experiences of the last 3 weeks. Turns out that this little journey of mine was an important experience for each of us, and has only enhanced what we share together as a couple. I am so pleased that this time of renewal has expanded the joy, respect, support, deep love, and appreciation that we bring to our relationship.
As I have noted over recent weeks, I have been marveling at and enjoying greatly all of the rich wildlife encounters that have come my way. Well, I have decided that not all visits from nature’s creatures do I appreciate equally. Let me tell you what happened on my last night in the cabin!
About an hour after I fell asleep I was awakened by some noises. I had seen evidence of mice out in the kitchen, but this wasn’t mice noises. It had to be coming from something quite a bit larger...
I could hear something scratching around, either under my bed, or beneath the floor boards under my bed. Very creepy! After a few minutes of lying in wide eyed terror (I had been sound asleep after all), I decided to turn on the light and see if I could tell what was going on. Well, there was this 2 foot square grated air vent, containing heater ductwork, just beyond the foot of my bed, and when I looked in that direction there was a pair of eyes staring back at me. I couldn’t tell at first what sort of critter was staring me down, because I was too freaked out that it had actually crawled in through the heating ducts and was in the cabin with me!
I think I just pulled the covers over my head and tried to imagine what my next move should be. I considered going out and sleeping in the van, but there were a couple of inches of snow out there, and the winds were still howling down the canyon. I thought about running out of the room and going up into the loft, but I wasn’t certain that I wouldn’t be followed, and the mattress in the loft was on the floor, so no box spring height to distance me from whatever creepy crawlies might be lurking…
Slowly, I dared to look more closely at the grate, where the critter was crawling around inside, and saw the colors of black and white. I had seen a distinctly black and white, good sized bird often in my travels over the prior 2 weeks, and initially thought one of them had found their way into the heating ducts. Well, we all know how I feel about having birds too near me. Back my head went under the covers!
I thought some more, and realized it couldn’t be a bird due to the length of floor space from the floor heating vent(where I first heard the noises) to the air vent grate being too long for a bird to traverse. I tried to quell my fears long enough to attempt to get another good look, and realized that it was black and white, and had a fluffy tail. SKUNK!!! Now what? I really couldn’t do anything to try to scare him away without risking getting sprayed. That would have been delightful to deal with, I’m sure!
So I slept with the light on, as that seemed to quiet it down. I was hoping skunks are nocturnal and the light would bum it out enough to seek shelter elsewhere. I kept myself buried in the bedcovers all night, frightened that I could be sprayed at any moment. In and out my acquaintance went periodically through the night, scratch, scratch, scratch… I drifted in and out of sleep, mostly out though…
The drive that day to Santa Fe is a sleep deprived blur, but at least I didn’t have to bathe in tomato juice before I left! Moral of the story; in certain circumstances, not all God’s creatures please and delight. Live and learn…
Meeting Ted in Santa Fe for a few days was brilliant! We are having such a good time, reconnecting and sharing our experiences of the last 3 weeks. Turns out that this little journey of mine was an important experience for each of us, and has only enhanced what we share together as a couple. I am so pleased that this time of renewal has expanded the joy, respect, support, deep love, and appreciation that we bring to our relationship.
As I have noted over recent weeks, I have been marveling at and enjoying greatly all of the rich wildlife encounters that have come my way. Well, I have decided that not all visits from nature’s creatures do I appreciate equally. Let me tell you what happened on my last night in the cabin!
About an hour after I fell asleep I was awakened by some noises. I had seen evidence of mice out in the kitchen, but this wasn’t mice noises. It had to be coming from something quite a bit larger...
I could hear something scratching around, either under my bed, or beneath the floor boards under my bed. Very creepy! After a few minutes of lying in wide eyed terror (I had been sound asleep after all), I decided to turn on the light and see if I could tell what was going on. Well, there was this 2 foot square grated air vent, containing heater ductwork, just beyond the foot of my bed, and when I looked in that direction there was a pair of eyes staring back at me. I couldn’t tell at first what sort of critter was staring me down, because I was too freaked out that it had actually crawled in through the heating ducts and was in the cabin with me!
I think I just pulled the covers over my head and tried to imagine what my next move should be. I considered going out and sleeping in the van, but there were a couple of inches of snow out there, and the winds were still howling down the canyon. I thought about running out of the room and going up into the loft, but I wasn’t certain that I wouldn’t be followed, and the mattress in the loft was on the floor, so no box spring height to distance me from whatever creepy crawlies might be lurking…
Slowly, I dared to look more closely at the grate, where the critter was crawling around inside, and saw the colors of black and white. I had seen a distinctly black and white, good sized bird often in my travels over the prior 2 weeks, and initially thought one of them had found their way into the heating ducts. Well, we all know how I feel about having birds too near me. Back my head went under the covers!
I thought some more, and realized it couldn’t be a bird due to the length of floor space from the floor heating vent(where I first heard the noises) to the air vent grate being too long for a bird to traverse. I tried to quell my fears long enough to attempt to get another good look, and realized that it was black and white, and had a fluffy tail. SKUNK!!! Now what? I really couldn’t do anything to try to scare him away without risking getting sprayed. That would have been delightful to deal with, I’m sure!
So I slept with the light on, as that seemed to quiet it down. I was hoping skunks are nocturnal and the light would bum it out enough to seek shelter elsewhere. I kept myself buried in the bedcovers all night, frightened that I could be sprayed at any moment. In and out my acquaintance went periodically through the night, scratch, scratch, scratch… I drifted in and out of sleep, mostly out though…
The drive that day to Santa Fe is a sleep deprived blur, but at least I didn’t have to bathe in tomato juice before I left! Moral of the story; in certain circumstances, not all God’s creatures please and delight. Live and learn…
Thursday, October 18, 2007
Winding Down…
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
Cabin near Salida, CO
Well, I’ve been taking an inventory of sorts…
Tomorrow I drive to within an hour of home, to Santa Fe, NM. I’ll reunite with my darling husband in a fancy hotel (ooh la la!!!) and I’ll attend another continuing education conference on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday mornings. Ted and I will spend those afternoons and evenings together away from the demands of our regular life (I’m only vaguely sure what that is any more…), transitioning back into our couple’s connection before returning fully to being home together.
Thus far I have driven 3765 miles in 19 days. (Gratefully this counts toward the less than 20,000 miles I have put on my van over the last 3 years, so I don’t feel too guilty…) I have camped in the van 11 of those nights, stayed at friend’s homes 4 nights, stayed in a motel on 2 nights, and tonight will be spending my second night in a remote rented cabin, before heading to Santa Fe tomorrow. I’ve completed 1 novel, 1memoir, will have completed 2 other nonfiction books, and will have collected 27 hours of continuing education credits by the time I return fully home. I’ve been on the beach, in the redwoods, slept in my van at 7000 feet in 22degree temperatures (as well as in a parking lot), driven in sunshine, fog & rain, and awoke to dark skies and snow flurries this morning. (In the last 30 minutes nearly an inch has accumulated.) I’ve hiked, biked, read, written, drawn, waded in the Pacific, washed my face in cold mountain streams, followed rivers, climbed mountain passes, gazed upon a rich variety of wildlife, and spent time and worshipped with dear friends.
I’ve laughed, I’ve cried, been moved, felt inspired, been silent, been chatty,(but mostly silent), thought a zillion thoughts and felt many feelings in response to those thoughts. I’ve taken risks, stretched beyond my comfort limits, felt more my place in the natural world, felt proud of myself, and ever so lucky… I’ve felt very even, not at all reactive or volatile in my moods or responses. I’ve been thoughtful and aware, and quite
indulgent of whatever I might have felt moved to do at any given time. It has been good in every way…
I think my biggest fear now is that I’ll return home and will lose track of something as of yet hard to name, or articulate, that I’ll forget to live out of the place in me that has been so available; certain, easy, and connected to the all without losing a connection to myself. That I’ll allow worry, anxiety, the stress of living my ‘regular life’ crowd out this peace and ease with which I enter into each day. That would be so sad…
I began this trip with much recall and reflection about the past. I guess my route through California triggered that process, along with the life/time demarcation of my turning 50. I have purposefully chosen to spend this “winding down” time someplace that holds no history for me, a place of novelty mystery, and possibility. I’m in a cabin at 8600 feet, on the back side of the Collegiate Peaks in central Colorado. The peaks are spectacular, snow covered, and rugged. The cabin is near the mouth of a canyon, 9miles east of Monarch Pass.
The weather thus far today has swiftly alternated between sunny blue skies with mild breezes to roaring wind and blinding blizzard driven snows. It has gone back and forth between these extremes at least 8 or 9 times over the past 12 hours. Funny, I feel only curiosity, not anxiety or angst. I’m comfortable that whatever happens, I am up to the task. I don’t need to anticipate the worst and move into action. Instead I feel calm, and that I’m up for whatever comes down the pike (or the canyon as it may be).
That’s the sort of ease that I have discovered and enjoyed on this trip. The ease to listen and respond to whatever calls to me in the moment, the ease to sit in wonder as I gaze at all that is around me, both within and without, the effortlessness of simply noticing and deciding what is next, the straightforwardness of stepping into the action that calls to me, the simplicity of being responsible for and accountable to only myself.
This journey has provided an opportunity for me to clarify something deeply personal, something essential to my life purpose. From this clarity, this ease, I trust that how I go forward from here will be affected. The clarity and ease I have discovered can only inform the actions I am moved to take outwardly, in the world at large. All of this inner journey must somehow result in a response, as of yet unformed, but important; some outward sharing and celebrating of this inner transformation, subtle and tender as it seems. That will be the true measure of the value of this journey methinks. That going within necessarily informs how I will be from here on; in my relationships, in my work, and in the greater work of the world…
Cabin near Salida, CO
Well, I’ve been taking an inventory of sorts…
Tomorrow I drive to within an hour of home, to Santa Fe, NM. I’ll reunite with my darling husband in a fancy hotel (ooh la la!!!) and I’ll attend another continuing education conference on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday mornings. Ted and I will spend those afternoons and evenings together away from the demands of our regular life (I’m only vaguely sure what that is any more…), transitioning back into our couple’s connection before returning fully to being home together.
Thus far I have driven 3765 miles in 19 days. (Gratefully this counts toward the less than 20,000 miles I have put on my van over the last 3 years, so I don’t feel too guilty…) I have camped in the van 11 of those nights, stayed at friend’s homes 4 nights, stayed in a motel on 2 nights, and tonight will be spending my second night in a remote rented cabin, before heading to Santa Fe tomorrow. I’ve completed 1 novel, 1memoir, will have completed 2 other nonfiction books, and will have collected 27 hours of continuing education credits by the time I return fully home. I’ve been on the beach, in the redwoods, slept in my van at 7000 feet in 22degree temperatures (as well as in a parking lot), driven in sunshine, fog & rain, and awoke to dark skies and snow flurries this morning. (In the last 30 minutes nearly an inch has accumulated.) I’ve hiked, biked, read, written, drawn, waded in the Pacific, washed my face in cold mountain streams, followed rivers, climbed mountain passes, gazed upon a rich variety of wildlife, and spent time and worshipped with dear friends.
I’ve laughed, I’ve cried, been moved, felt inspired, been silent, been chatty,(but mostly silent), thought a zillion thoughts and felt many feelings in response to those thoughts. I’ve taken risks, stretched beyond my comfort limits, felt more my place in the natural world, felt proud of myself, and ever so lucky… I’ve felt very even, not at all reactive or volatile in my moods or responses. I’ve been thoughtful and aware, and quite
indulgent of whatever I might have felt moved to do at any given time. It has been good in every way…
I think my biggest fear now is that I’ll return home and will lose track of something as of yet hard to name, or articulate, that I’ll forget to live out of the place in me that has been so available; certain, easy, and connected to the all without losing a connection to myself. That I’ll allow worry, anxiety, the stress of living my ‘regular life’ crowd out this peace and ease with which I enter into each day. That would be so sad…
I began this trip with much recall and reflection about the past. I guess my route through California triggered that process, along with the life/time demarcation of my turning 50. I have purposefully chosen to spend this “winding down” time someplace that holds no history for me, a place of novelty mystery, and possibility. I’m in a cabin at 8600 feet, on the back side of the Collegiate Peaks in central Colorado. The peaks are spectacular, snow covered, and rugged. The cabin is near the mouth of a canyon, 9miles east of Monarch Pass.
The weather thus far today has swiftly alternated between sunny blue skies with mild breezes to roaring wind and blinding blizzard driven snows. It has gone back and forth between these extremes at least 8 or 9 times over the past 12 hours. Funny, I feel only curiosity, not anxiety or angst. I’m comfortable that whatever happens, I am up to the task. I don’t need to anticipate the worst and move into action. Instead I feel calm, and that I’m up for whatever comes down the pike (or the canyon as it may be).
That’s the sort of ease that I have discovered and enjoyed on this trip. The ease to listen and respond to whatever calls to me in the moment, the ease to sit in wonder as I gaze at all that is around me, both within and without, the effortlessness of simply noticing and deciding what is next, the straightforwardness of stepping into the action that calls to me, the simplicity of being responsible for and accountable to only myself.
This journey has provided an opportunity for me to clarify something deeply personal, something essential to my life purpose. From this clarity, this ease, I trust that how I go forward from here will be affected. The clarity and ease I have discovered can only inform the actions I am moved to take outwardly, in the world at large. All of this inner journey must somehow result in a response, as of yet unformed, but important; some outward sharing and celebrating of this inner transformation, subtle and tender as it seems. That will be the true measure of the value of this journey methinks. That going within necessarily informs how I will be from here on; in my relationships, in my work, and in the greater work of the world…
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
Friendship, Kinship, Love
Sandi’s House
Monday Evening October 15, 2007
Fort Collins, CO
How is it that you know when you have made a true heart connection with someone? How is it that you know that the connection you share is powerful enough that it will last the rest of your lives? How is it when you know that you have found your people, your tribe?
I just attended the annual district meeting of my church community and had the good fortune to reconnect with people of my heart; people who share my values and ideals, people who reflect upon what it means to be human, people who struggle with wanting to live out of a full experience of that humanity, and bring their best self to the table, people who want to make a difference with one another and in their larger worlds. I have never been a religious person before, not before finding Unitarian Universalism. I am grateful to be able to say that with each passing year my religious identity becomes more clear, more meaningful, and more important to me.
While my experience in my own congregation has been invaluable, it has been through my affiliation with other UU’s across the mountain west that has profoundly informed my heart connection to this denomination. We are quirky, there is no doubt. We are liberal in our worldviews, and what I find so remarkable is how connected we can be across our differences. How supportive we can be of the myriad ways of expressing who we are and what matters most to us.
We are diverse and pluralistic, flawed and loving, full spectrum human creatures. At our core, we share a covenant (agreement, promise, pledge) that in its simplest form affirms that as human beings we are good, we are loved, that we can make a difference, and that we are free to find our own paths to best define and live out of those assertions.
Attempting to live out of one’s best self, not for the promise of some reward in the hereafter, but because it is the right thing to do here and now, for oneself and one’s fellow creatures, makes sense to me; not just in my intellect, but in my heart as well. Living in community with others who share that experience, that understanding, and availing myself of opportunities to deepen the connections within that community nourishes my spirit, enlivens me, and puts me in touch with a felt sense of communion.
Certainly these experiences are not limited to my interactions within my religious community. But having this larger affiliation, and knowing that it is a movement that has and can continue to make an important difference in other people’s lives and in the world, enriches my life in a unique way. Infusing this movement with joy and enthusiasm, appreciating the camaraderie and alliance, experiencing the capacity and potential of making a difference, empowers me to move into action. The action of service, of speaking out against injustice, of trying to make even a small difference; all the while trying to keep my heart wide open, and making choices from my best self. Not in an attempt to be perfect though, in an attempt to be my fullest possible human self. For all that I know I have, is this shot at being human, and I want to maximize it.
I don’t want a complacent life. I don’t want to be so caught up in the rat race of our modern culture that I lose touch with a deeper sense of meaning. I don’t want to be too tired, or stressed, or oblivious to be able to respond in the ways that honor my belief that as humans we are good, we are loved, and that we can make a difference.
The first 50 years have been devoted to creating my path, my own identity. They have been devoted to “growing up”, and to bringing forth new life, guiding and nurturing those lives to have the ability to make choices to allow them to create and live out of their own best selves. I have devoted my professional life in a similar vein.
This second half will be devoted to expanding and expounding upon the strengths and gifts that I have, but perhaps in different venues and different ways. I’m not certain what that means, or what forms it will take, but I do have a deeper sense of conviction about it than I had at the beginning of this trip.
The trip… I am not sure what it was that I came looking for, nor am I sure what it is that I’ve found. I do however trust that it has been important, life affirming and informing, and invaluable in the overall arc of my life. There are a few days left before Ted and I reunite for a couple of “couple days” in Santa Fe, and another whole week before I return to work. Perhaps more will reveal itself to me. Perhaps it will be enough that I have begun to more clearly articulate what it is I believe, what matters most to me beyond my love of and commitment to loved ones and my life work.
Monday Evening October 15, 2007
Fort Collins, CO
How is it that you know when you have made a true heart connection with someone? How is it that you know that the connection you share is powerful enough that it will last the rest of your lives? How is it when you know that you have found your people, your tribe?
I just attended the annual district meeting of my church community and had the good fortune to reconnect with people of my heart; people who share my values and ideals, people who reflect upon what it means to be human, people who struggle with wanting to live out of a full experience of that humanity, and bring their best self to the table, people who want to make a difference with one another and in their larger worlds. I have never been a religious person before, not before finding Unitarian Universalism. I am grateful to be able to say that with each passing year my religious identity becomes more clear, more meaningful, and more important to me.
While my experience in my own congregation has been invaluable, it has been through my affiliation with other UU’s across the mountain west that has profoundly informed my heart connection to this denomination. We are quirky, there is no doubt. We are liberal in our worldviews, and what I find so remarkable is how connected we can be across our differences. How supportive we can be of the myriad ways of expressing who we are and what matters most to us.
We are diverse and pluralistic, flawed and loving, full spectrum human creatures. At our core, we share a covenant (agreement, promise, pledge) that in its simplest form affirms that as human beings we are good, we are loved, that we can make a difference, and that we are free to find our own paths to best define and live out of those assertions.
Attempting to live out of one’s best self, not for the promise of some reward in the hereafter, but because it is the right thing to do here and now, for oneself and one’s fellow creatures, makes sense to me; not just in my intellect, but in my heart as well. Living in community with others who share that experience, that understanding, and availing myself of opportunities to deepen the connections within that community nourishes my spirit, enlivens me, and puts me in touch with a felt sense of communion.
Certainly these experiences are not limited to my interactions within my religious community. But having this larger affiliation, and knowing that it is a movement that has and can continue to make an important difference in other people’s lives and in the world, enriches my life in a unique way. Infusing this movement with joy and enthusiasm, appreciating the camaraderie and alliance, experiencing the capacity and potential of making a difference, empowers me to move into action. The action of service, of speaking out against injustice, of trying to make even a small difference; all the while trying to keep my heart wide open, and making choices from my best self. Not in an attempt to be perfect though, in an attempt to be my fullest possible human self. For all that I know I have, is this shot at being human, and I want to maximize it.
I don’t want a complacent life. I don’t want to be so caught up in the rat race of our modern culture that I lose touch with a deeper sense of meaning. I don’t want to be too tired, or stressed, or oblivious to be able to respond in the ways that honor my belief that as humans we are good, we are loved, and that we can make a difference.
The first 50 years have been devoted to creating my path, my own identity. They have been devoted to “growing up”, and to bringing forth new life, guiding and nurturing those lives to have the ability to make choices to allow them to create and live out of their own best selves. I have devoted my professional life in a similar vein.
This second half will be devoted to expanding and expounding upon the strengths and gifts that I have, but perhaps in different venues and different ways. I’m not certain what that means, or what forms it will take, but I do have a deeper sense of conviction about it than I had at the beginning of this trip.
The trip… I am not sure what it was that I came looking for, nor am I sure what it is that I’ve found. I do however trust that it has been important, life affirming and informing, and invaluable in the overall arc of my life. There are a few days left before Ted and I reunite for a couple of “couple days” in Santa Fe, and another whole week before I return to work. Perhaps more will reveal itself to me. Perhaps it will be enough that I have begun to more clearly articulate what it is I believe, what matters most to me beyond my love of and commitment to loved ones and my life work.
Sunday, October 14, 2007
Lodgepole Pine Reforestation Project
Lodgepole Pine Reforestation Project
West Yellowstone, MT
I had an astonishing experience on my way into the Yellowstone Park last week. I passed through a section of forest that was noted to be the “Lodgepole Pine Reforestation Project”. There were stands of trees of varying heights and stages of growth, each different stand had a sign with the year of its planting.
I noted the years 1992, 1981, and 1960. Each stand was expansive enough to allow me time to reflect on the size of the trees, and what the passing of time looked like to a Lodgepole Pine; how time was recorded in the tree’s very existence. I was reminded of the Ents in the Lord of the Rings, their power, wisdom, and the history they had witnessed in their long stationary lives as trees of the forest. I reflected too on those years, and what each represented to me, in my growth, development, and life stage…
1992 made me think actually of 1993, the year that I graduated from medical school. Megan was ten and Adam seven. Ted and I had been dating for over four years; had lasted well beyond what either of us originally imagined would be the life span of our relationship, and decided to move in together. The following year we married.
My experience of medical school had been positive and formative in many ways. I loved learning, and was in awe of all that I had been exposed to, all that I had the privilege and honor to witness in the lives of my patients. I had “made it” through relatively intact, with my sense of commitment, purpose, and self still strong.
My kids were healthy and growing, no more the worse for wear and tear from the prior four years than would have been expected. It was an important time for me, of identity, mastery, and deepening awareness of myself. I felt a sense of accomplishment reflecting back on the life of those trees, and what sort of growth they symbolized for me personally.
1981 was the year that I met Tom, my children’s father. I was completing my undergraduate degree, in California, and we met the summer before my final semester. Before we met, I had envisioned taking time to travel once I was finished with school.
At the same time though, I was increasingly aware of a powerful desire rising in me, to have a child. I was surprised by the intensity of this urge. It felt beyond my conscious reflection, like some primal, biological awakening that had been growing for some time. Intellectually it didn’t make much sense, as I had been in a relationship that I knew was not a “’til death do us part” proposition. Still, its presence could not be denied.
Meeting Tom resulted in a whirlwind; we ended up moving to New Mexico eight months after we met, married three months later, and I had Megan the following spring. My vision shifted dramatically in 1981 from teaching English in South America, hiking to Machu Picchu for starters, and generally being carefree, adventurous, and independent, to gestating, birthing, and caring for a newborn babe.
It’s funny, I tell Ted all the time that giving birth to and raising Megan and Adam have been the most important things I have done with my life, and that feels true to my very bones. I couldn’t help but wonder though how different things might have been had my life taken a different course in 1981.
That stand of trees marked concretely what the passage of 26 years means to a Lodgepole Pine. My amazing daughter and son mark the time for me; time of worth, generativity, and the incredible calling and gift of motherlove…
In 1960, I turned three years old. That last stand of trees reflected back to me what I can only hope is evidence of a half century of life well lived. The trees were impressively tall and robust. It amazed me that for all intents and purposes, we were the same age. So, that is what my life looks like in Lodgepole Pine time…
I’m not sure what the lifespan of a Lodgepole Pine is, nor do I know what mine will be. What I do know is that I have been blessed with a life of richness, love, and deep connection; connection to family, friends, the natural world, and community, in all its aspects and forms, also, an ever expanding understanding and acceptance of myself.
This trip has been about connecting to something inherent in my being that is less available to me when I am immersed in the demands and responsibilities of my daily life. It has given me the opportunity to reflect, record, remember, and revise some of my life story. Revise to reveal a more accurate version of who I am today, and how I got here, in order to discern more clearly where it is I want to go next…
Here is a partial list of some of the learning I have gathered these past two weeks.
So far…
I really like being alone, and I am relishing it…
I haven’t lost my adventuresome spirit, my self reliance, or my abilities to make my way in the world.
I have more fear than I’d like to admit…
I can appreciate and learn from an icon, and not be diminished in her presence, but instead be in touch with my own gifts as well.
I can use whatever language I want, and be comfortable with my choice. What I want is heart language. In my mind, the heart is an organ of perception, a way of seeing, and heart language speaks to those perceptions.
It is time for my work to expand, both inner and outer.
Social interaction is not necessarily rapport. Rapport shows interest in feelings. I enter into rapport and empathy so naturally that I need requisite down time, away from interacting and relating, in order to rejuvenate myself.
My service of work is to assist people in becoming fully human .
I am ready to move into the teaching of this work; my service is now expanding to offer others the opportunity to experience the same level of wonder, and depth of connection, as I have had when I’ve been a participant. I have always been leading, and I can lead in this work…
This is a time in my life for revising old stories to accurately reflect who I am today. Retelling old stories in the same old rote ways can be limiting.
My understanding of soul is the part of me in touch with the deepest meaning and knowing available to me. It is an internal experience.
My understanding of spirit is that which enlivens me, brings me back to a greater sense of self. It is externally focused, yet out reaching, and brings my awareness back to my internal knowing.
I need larger community to fully realize my life work.
I'm starting to miss my husband and my life back home...
Lodgepole Pines are tall, straight, thin barked, with long needles. They are common evergreens, that are prolific and reliable seed producers. They have an extremely wide range of “environmental tolerance”. I think that means they can grown and flourish in vastly different environments. Their root systems are shallow, and they are susceptible to high winds. They need a plentiful supply of sunlight to attain maximum vigor. Fire is useful for their continuation and reproduction. I like examining my life through the lens of Lodgepole Pines…
West Yellowstone, MT
I had an astonishing experience on my way into the Yellowstone Park last week. I passed through a section of forest that was noted to be the “Lodgepole Pine Reforestation Project”. There were stands of trees of varying heights and stages of growth, each different stand had a sign with the year of its planting.
I noted the years 1992, 1981, and 1960. Each stand was expansive enough to allow me time to reflect on the size of the trees, and what the passing of time looked like to a Lodgepole Pine; how time was recorded in the tree’s very existence. I was reminded of the Ents in the Lord of the Rings, their power, wisdom, and the history they had witnessed in their long stationary lives as trees of the forest. I reflected too on those years, and what each represented to me, in my growth, development, and life stage…
1992 made me think actually of 1993, the year that I graduated from medical school. Megan was ten and Adam seven. Ted and I had been dating for over four years; had lasted well beyond what either of us originally imagined would be the life span of our relationship, and decided to move in together. The following year we married.
My experience of medical school had been positive and formative in many ways. I loved learning, and was in awe of all that I had been exposed to, all that I had the privilege and honor to witness in the lives of my patients. I had “made it” through relatively intact, with my sense of commitment, purpose, and self still strong.
My kids were healthy and growing, no more the worse for wear and tear from the prior four years than would have been expected. It was an important time for me, of identity, mastery, and deepening awareness of myself. I felt a sense of accomplishment reflecting back on the life of those trees, and what sort of growth they symbolized for me personally.
1981 was the year that I met Tom, my children’s father. I was completing my undergraduate degree, in California, and we met the summer before my final semester. Before we met, I had envisioned taking time to travel once I was finished with school.
At the same time though, I was increasingly aware of a powerful desire rising in me, to have a child. I was surprised by the intensity of this urge. It felt beyond my conscious reflection, like some primal, biological awakening that had been growing for some time. Intellectually it didn’t make much sense, as I had been in a relationship that I knew was not a “’til death do us part” proposition. Still, its presence could not be denied.
Meeting Tom resulted in a whirlwind; we ended up moving to New Mexico eight months after we met, married three months later, and I had Megan the following spring. My vision shifted dramatically in 1981 from teaching English in South America, hiking to Machu Picchu for starters, and generally being carefree, adventurous, and independent, to gestating, birthing, and caring for a newborn babe.
It’s funny, I tell Ted all the time that giving birth to and raising Megan and Adam have been the most important things I have done with my life, and that feels true to my very bones. I couldn’t help but wonder though how different things might have been had my life taken a different course in 1981.
That stand of trees marked concretely what the passage of 26 years means to a Lodgepole Pine. My amazing daughter and son mark the time for me; time of worth, generativity, and the incredible calling and gift of motherlove…
In 1960, I turned three years old. That last stand of trees reflected back to me what I can only hope is evidence of a half century of life well lived. The trees were impressively tall and robust. It amazed me that for all intents and purposes, we were the same age. So, that is what my life looks like in Lodgepole Pine time…
I’m not sure what the lifespan of a Lodgepole Pine is, nor do I know what mine will be. What I do know is that I have been blessed with a life of richness, love, and deep connection; connection to family, friends, the natural world, and community, in all its aspects and forms, also, an ever expanding understanding and acceptance of myself.
This trip has been about connecting to something inherent in my being that is less available to me when I am immersed in the demands and responsibilities of my daily life. It has given me the opportunity to reflect, record, remember, and revise some of my life story. Revise to reveal a more accurate version of who I am today, and how I got here, in order to discern more clearly where it is I want to go next…
Here is a partial list of some of the learning I have gathered these past two weeks.
So far…
I really like being alone, and I am relishing it…
I haven’t lost my adventuresome spirit, my self reliance, or my abilities to make my way in the world.
I have more fear than I’d like to admit…
I can appreciate and learn from an icon, and not be diminished in her presence, but instead be in touch with my own gifts as well.
I can use whatever language I want, and be comfortable with my choice. What I want is heart language. In my mind, the heart is an organ of perception, a way of seeing, and heart language speaks to those perceptions.
It is time for my work to expand, both inner and outer.
Social interaction is not necessarily rapport. Rapport shows interest in feelings. I enter into rapport and empathy so naturally that I need requisite down time, away from interacting and relating, in order to rejuvenate myself.
My service of work is to assist people in becoming fully human .
I am ready to move into the teaching of this work; my service is now expanding to offer others the opportunity to experience the same level of wonder, and depth of connection, as I have had when I’ve been a participant. I have always been leading, and I can lead in this work…
This is a time in my life for revising old stories to accurately reflect who I am today. Retelling old stories in the same old rote ways can be limiting.
My understanding of soul is the part of me in touch with the deepest meaning and knowing available to me. It is an internal experience.
My understanding of spirit is that which enlivens me, brings me back to a greater sense of self. It is externally focused, yet out reaching, and brings my awareness back to my internal knowing.
I need larger community to fully realize my life work.
I'm starting to miss my husband and my life back home...
Lodgepole Pines are tall, straight, thin barked, with long needles. They are common evergreens, that are prolific and reliable seed producers. They have an extremely wide range of “environmental tolerance”. I think that means they can grown and flourish in vastly different environments. Their root systems are shallow, and they are susceptible to high winds. They need a plentiful supply of sunlight to attain maximum vigor. Fire is useful for their continuation and reproduction. I like examining my life through the lens of Lodgepole Pines…
Thursday, October 11, 2007
Lois & Lori’s Kitchen
Bozeman MT
Thursday, October 11, 2007
Bozeman is charming; tall trees lining the streets, all aglow with fall color, snow capped mountains just to the north and south, a quaint and vibrant downtown with local businesses housed in red brick buildings, and the warmth of dear friends opening their home and hearth to a weary traveler…
Actually, I’m not really weary. I have come to thoroughly enjoy this trip in a way I had hoped for, but hadn’t fully anticipated. I’m relishing the solitary nature of my adventure; the absence of other voices and competing desires. There is an appreciation of my own company, my own deepening sense of clarity regarding the pace and rhythm where I feel most alive, most connected to a wholeness in the natural world, and within myself. I am so grateful for the opportunity to be able to live from that place.
My time in Yellowstone was magical. The coldness and snow that had already fallen brought the animals out in full force. The landscape was breathtaking and absent roads, buildings, electrical wires, all the accouterments of our modern culture. There were also few people, so I could easily drive the roads at 20 mph, viewing the landscape and more easily spotting wildlife. One morning I spotted a Golden Eagle atop a tall conifer. The evening before, I pulled over to where there were a number of people with telescopes, and had the enormous good fortune to view a Grizzly Bear. What an amazing treat! As I gazed in that spot, at one point within the circle of view of my binoculars were a grizzly, a bison, and a coyote. That surely doesn’t happen every day.
On my way back to the campsite I pulled over again. A woman had spotted a wolf pack atop a snow covered ridge, just as the sun was setting. The wolves were playing, and actually sliding down the steep peak. It wasn’t easy to make them out as they were a distance away in elevation. But through my binoculars there was no mistaking the silhouettes of their howling stances, and their playfulness coming down the slope. How lucky I felt…
The next afternoon, as I was packing things up, three huge bison ambled through my campsite, no more than 15 feet from where I was standing. I left the Lamar Valley, truly one of the most beautiful places I have seen, feeling the enormity of life’s abundance, and deep gratitude.
I was sure that I had seen all I was going to see on this trip, when I noticed a number of cars pulled to the side of the road, just as I was approaching the bridge over the Yellowstone River. As I hurried down the hill to the bridge, I had the amazing good fortune to spot another Grizzly. Someone remarked he had to have weighed around 600 pounds. He was below us, on the riverbank, but much closer than the one I had seen the night before. He ambled over to the edge of the river, and slipped in for a swim. Oh my! What a sight… Once he got out the man next to me offered for me to look through his telescope. The image was so clear it was as if I were standing only a few feet away. I could see the drops of water that flew free as he shook his head to dry off. What an amazing beast, so awesome as he took his afternoon dip in the clear mountain runoff…
On the way out of the park I got to view a Big Horn Sheep climbing along a rock wall. Driving north through Paradise valley, from Gardiner to Livingston, Montana was stunning. I remember now why I was drawn west all those years ago. The sky, the vastness, the beauty out here is enormous, and it fills me with a sense of aliveness and wonder that is hard to put into words.
Now I am in the warmth and comfort of my friends’ home. We spent last evening, and most of today together with the easiness that happens between friends of the heart. A gentle way for me to stretch back into human relationship after spending so much time on my own. Tomorrow I will join them in Billings, MO for the Mountain Desert District‘s annual meeting of our Unitarian Universalist faith. There will be 200 people attending, and I will need to call up my socialization skills for a few days. I will be glad to connect with friends from around the district, as well as to meet new like minded and hearted folk. I will also look forward to my final days of lone adventuring before I head back toward home and my husband’s loving arms.
Thursday, October 11, 2007
Bozeman is charming; tall trees lining the streets, all aglow with fall color, snow capped mountains just to the north and south, a quaint and vibrant downtown with local businesses housed in red brick buildings, and the warmth of dear friends opening their home and hearth to a weary traveler…
Actually, I’m not really weary. I have come to thoroughly enjoy this trip in a way I had hoped for, but hadn’t fully anticipated. I’m relishing the solitary nature of my adventure; the absence of other voices and competing desires. There is an appreciation of my own company, my own deepening sense of clarity regarding the pace and rhythm where I feel most alive, most connected to a wholeness in the natural world, and within myself. I am so grateful for the opportunity to be able to live from that place.
My time in Yellowstone was magical. The coldness and snow that had already fallen brought the animals out in full force. The landscape was breathtaking and absent roads, buildings, electrical wires, all the accouterments of our modern culture. There were also few people, so I could easily drive the roads at 20 mph, viewing the landscape and more easily spotting wildlife. One morning I spotted a Golden Eagle atop a tall conifer. The evening before, I pulled over to where there were a number of people with telescopes, and had the enormous good fortune to view a Grizzly Bear. What an amazing treat! As I gazed in that spot, at one point within the circle of view of my binoculars were a grizzly, a bison, and a coyote. That surely doesn’t happen every day.
On my way back to the campsite I pulled over again. A woman had spotted a wolf pack atop a snow covered ridge, just as the sun was setting. The wolves were playing, and actually sliding down the steep peak. It wasn’t easy to make them out as they were a distance away in elevation. But through my binoculars there was no mistaking the silhouettes of their howling stances, and their playfulness coming down the slope. How lucky I felt…
The next afternoon, as I was packing things up, three huge bison ambled through my campsite, no more than 15 feet from where I was standing. I left the Lamar Valley, truly one of the most beautiful places I have seen, feeling the enormity of life’s abundance, and deep gratitude.
I was sure that I had seen all I was going to see on this trip, when I noticed a number of cars pulled to the side of the road, just as I was approaching the bridge over the Yellowstone River. As I hurried down the hill to the bridge, I had the amazing good fortune to spot another Grizzly. Someone remarked he had to have weighed around 600 pounds. He was below us, on the riverbank, but much closer than the one I had seen the night before. He ambled over to the edge of the river, and slipped in for a swim. Oh my! What a sight… Once he got out the man next to me offered for me to look through his telescope. The image was so clear it was as if I were standing only a few feet away. I could see the drops of water that flew free as he shook his head to dry off. What an amazing beast, so awesome as he took his afternoon dip in the clear mountain runoff…
On the way out of the park I got to view a Big Horn Sheep climbing along a rock wall. Driving north through Paradise valley, from Gardiner to Livingston, Montana was stunning. I remember now why I was drawn west all those years ago. The sky, the vastness, the beauty out here is enormous, and it fills me with a sense of aliveness and wonder that is hard to put into words.
Now I am in the warmth and comfort of my friends’ home. We spent last evening, and most of today together with the easiness that happens between friends of the heart. A gentle way for me to stretch back into human relationship after spending so much time on my own. Tomorrow I will join them in Billings, MO for the Mountain Desert District‘s annual meeting of our Unitarian Universalist faith. There will be 200 people attending, and I will need to call up my socialization skills for a few days. I will be glad to connect with friends from around the district, as well as to meet new like minded and hearted folk. I will also look forward to my final days of lone adventuring before I head back toward home and my husband’s loving arms.
Hey Hey, Boo Boo…
August 8, 2007
I’m in ‘Jellystone’ and it is amazing! There is evidence of the fires from years back, everywhere. But there is so much reforestation, lots of smaller pines have filled things in well. Some of the roads, and all but four of the campgrounds are closed, so it hasn’t seemed very crowded at all. The south entrance, from the Grand Teton National Park, was closed last week due to snow.
I left Mill Valley CA at 5pm on Saturday, following the conference (what a joy that was…) and made it to the other side of Reno before I found a place to sleep. There was snow on the ground going over Donner Pass, leaving California, but it was dark so I didn’t get a good look at it. Early Sunday morning though, driving through Nevada‘s expansive countryside there were 8 to 10,000 feet mountains with snow on the north facing slopes. Nothing could have prepared me for Idaho though. The view of the Tetons from the West was breathtaking. It wasn’t that the peaks were snow covered, but the entire range of mountains was covered from peak to foothill. I was blown away… The only time Id ever traveled these areas had been in mid summer. I had no idea…
I spent last night in Idaho Falls. It was too weird at that point, as when I pulled into town, there was snow on the ground, yet the trees had just begun to turn. I was in “environment shock”. I had been 20 minutes from the beach less than 24 hours earlier, and I had come straight to winter. Most of Idaho had been wide open fields (potatoes I guess), and no deciduous trees anywhere. So, I had no gradual change of season. I went from late summer straight to winter. YOWZA! I couldn’t fathom actually camping in those frosty covered mountains, and the sky looked threatening. I holed up in the Best western for the night, and it was ‘just right’.
This morning the sun came out, and I took a brisk autumn bike ride along the Snake River. I was rejuvenated, and headed for Yellowstone… (Who cares that it got down to 26 degrees last night?)
Within the first 2 hours I saw bunches of elk lounging along the river’s edge, Canadian geese, bison, bison, bison, and 3 coyotes. The ravens here practically come up to you, wanting handouts I guess. I’m hunkered down in the van tonight, hoping that they were telling the truth when they said my sleeping bag would keep me warm to 20 degrees. If not, I’ll be a human popsicle by morning. Luckily if it gets too bad I have a nearly full tank of gas, and I can just turn on the motor and go for a ride. They say the best time to view the wildlife is at sunrise anyway...
I’m in ‘Jellystone’ and it is amazing! There is evidence of the fires from years back, everywhere. But there is so much reforestation, lots of smaller pines have filled things in well. Some of the roads, and all but four of the campgrounds are closed, so it hasn’t seemed very crowded at all. The south entrance, from the Grand Teton National Park, was closed last week due to snow.
I left Mill Valley CA at 5pm on Saturday, following the conference (what a joy that was…) and made it to the other side of Reno before I found a place to sleep. There was snow on the ground going over Donner Pass, leaving California, but it was dark so I didn’t get a good look at it. Early Sunday morning though, driving through Nevada‘s expansive countryside there were 8 to 10,000 feet mountains with snow on the north facing slopes. Nothing could have prepared me for Idaho though. The view of the Tetons from the West was breathtaking. It wasn’t that the peaks were snow covered, but the entire range of mountains was covered from peak to foothill. I was blown away… The only time Id ever traveled these areas had been in mid summer. I had no idea…
I spent last night in Idaho Falls. It was too weird at that point, as when I pulled into town, there was snow on the ground, yet the trees had just begun to turn. I was in “environment shock”. I had been 20 minutes from the beach less than 24 hours earlier, and I had come straight to winter. Most of Idaho had been wide open fields (potatoes I guess), and no deciduous trees anywhere. So, I had no gradual change of season. I went from late summer straight to winter. YOWZA! I couldn’t fathom actually camping in those frosty covered mountains, and the sky looked threatening. I holed up in the Best western for the night, and it was ‘just right’.
This morning the sun came out, and I took a brisk autumn bike ride along the Snake River. I was rejuvenated, and headed for Yellowstone… (Who cares that it got down to 26 degrees last night?)
Within the first 2 hours I saw bunches of elk lounging along the river’s edge, Canadian geese, bison, bison, bison, and 3 coyotes. The ravens here practically come up to you, wanting handouts I guess. I’m hunkered down in the van tonight, hoping that they were telling the truth when they said my sleeping bag would keep me warm to 20 degrees. If not, I’ll be a human popsicle by morning. Luckily if it gets too bad I have a nearly full tank of gas, and I can just turn on the motor and go for a ride. They say the best time to view the wildlife is at sunrise anyway...
Saturday, October 6, 2007
The Last California Campfire
Saturday October 6, 2007
I’m preparing to attend my second day of a 2 day conference with someone whose work I have admired since my first year in medical school, Rachel Naomi Remen. (She wrote the books “Kitchen Table Wisdom”, and “My Grandfather’s Blessings”) So far it has been wonderful. Last night I had my last California campfire, as I head East today after the conference.
It has been a wondrous week here, and it also feels fine to move on. Interestingly enough I am so happy with this life, on the road. I feel more alert, self reliant and confident then I have in awhile Even being with Rachel Naomi Remen yesterday, I was in touch with my own gifts, not only in awe of hers. The work she does has always touched me, and felt aligned with what was my original calling to medicine. My calling to serve… I forget to think about my work as service, although it is. I am leaving here with a different sense of my work, how I do it now, how I’d like it to evolve, and holding the awareness of it being a ‘call to serve’ feels vital to how I go forward from here.
The other day I shared some about my struggle with being comfortable with the language to describe mystery, and what feels sacred to me. Being here with this powerful and amazing woman, who did her medical training 40 years ago, who in 1965 was the only woman on the pediatric faculty at Stanford, and experiencing her devotion to serving her fellow physicians, patients, and health care workers in general is an honor beyond description. But to hear her tell of her own struggle with how to speak the language of holism, of discovery and community, within the professionalism of medicine has inspired me to use the language of my heart. After all that is the only language that deeply communicates and connects me to what mattes most…
I want to name a couple of things that have happened over the past few days that felt like Grace. (See, I’m practicing my heart language.) When on a hike, the afternoon following the sighting of the young buck, I came upon a momma deer and her 2 young’uns. They were grazing alongside the trail I was on. We just hung out together for about 10 or 15 minutes. She would only let me step so close before she’d nudge them a little further along the trail. Must have been some tasty morsels though, as they didn’t scamper off fearful of me. No, theywere just wary, and required that I keep a distance of about 30 t0 50 feet. It was awesome! On that hike I also saw a scorpion, lizard, lots of hawks, a covey of quail, and a 6 point buck. Needless to say, he didn’t let me get as close as the rest of his family (or so I imagined them to be ) did… It was an amazing experience, and Yellowstone is next! YOWZA!
Finally, the day I decided to lay low, after leaving the Kaffe Klatch Kafe, I asked a woman (I had seen her in the café earlier) on the street if she knew of any massage therapists in town. Part of needing to slow down was a lot of achiness, and muscle tension from all of the driving. Well, turns out she was a massage therapist, and because of the synchronicity of my request, worked on her day off in order to relieve some discomfort in a weary traveler. A blessing, to be sure, as it was a powerful treatment, and left me feeling much renewed…
Better sign off for now. Love, peace, and blessings to you all…
I’m preparing to attend my second day of a 2 day conference with someone whose work I have admired since my first year in medical school, Rachel Naomi Remen. (She wrote the books “Kitchen Table Wisdom”, and “My Grandfather’s Blessings”) So far it has been wonderful. Last night I had my last California campfire, as I head East today after the conference.
It has been a wondrous week here, and it also feels fine to move on. Interestingly enough I am so happy with this life, on the road. I feel more alert, self reliant and confident then I have in awhile Even being with Rachel Naomi Remen yesterday, I was in touch with my own gifts, not only in awe of hers. The work she does has always touched me, and felt aligned with what was my original calling to medicine. My calling to serve… I forget to think about my work as service, although it is. I am leaving here with a different sense of my work, how I do it now, how I’d like it to evolve, and holding the awareness of it being a ‘call to serve’ feels vital to how I go forward from here.
The other day I shared some about my struggle with being comfortable with the language to describe mystery, and what feels sacred to me. Being here with this powerful and amazing woman, who did her medical training 40 years ago, who in 1965 was the only woman on the pediatric faculty at Stanford, and experiencing her devotion to serving her fellow physicians, patients, and health care workers in general is an honor beyond description. But to hear her tell of her own struggle with how to speak the language of holism, of discovery and community, within the professionalism of medicine has inspired me to use the language of my heart. After all that is the only language that deeply communicates and connects me to what mattes most…
I want to name a couple of things that have happened over the past few days that felt like Grace. (See, I’m practicing my heart language.) When on a hike, the afternoon following the sighting of the young buck, I came upon a momma deer and her 2 young’uns. They were grazing alongside the trail I was on. We just hung out together for about 10 or 15 minutes. She would only let me step so close before she’d nudge them a little further along the trail. Must have been some tasty morsels though, as they didn’t scamper off fearful of me. No, theywere just wary, and required that I keep a distance of about 30 t0 50 feet. It was awesome! On that hike I also saw a scorpion, lizard, lots of hawks, a covey of quail, and a 6 point buck. Needless to say, he didn’t let me get as close as the rest of his family (or so I imagined them to be ) did… It was an amazing experience, and Yellowstone is next! YOWZA!
Finally, the day I decided to lay low, after leaving the Kaffe Klatch Kafe, I asked a woman (I had seen her in the café earlier) on the street if she knew of any massage therapists in town. Part of needing to slow down was a lot of achiness, and muscle tension from all of the driving. Well, turns out she was a massage therapist, and because of the synchronicity of my request, worked on her day off in order to relieve some discomfort in a weary traveler. A blessing, to be sure, as it was a powerful treatment, and left me feeling much renewed…
Better sign off for now. Love, peace, and blessings to you all…
Thursday, October 4, 2007
More Wondering, Less Wandering
October 4, 2007
Kaffe Klatch Kafe, Fairfax CA
Want to say thanks to all who have posted comments on this blog. It is a treat for me, as if your energy and caring are concretely apparent and available to me on this journey. THANKS!
I had a long hike planned for today. It was a really special hike, so it's a big deal that I have chosen instead to take the day to relax, reflect, and write. I am realizing how useful it is for me to write as a way to slow down and connect with something deeper inside me. I have always known that to be the case, but somehow the meaning of it is sinking in, in a new way...
So, I'm thinking that part of my packing so much into the past few days has been out of excitement as well as needing to learn the lay of the land, as I am certainly out of my element. Camping is a joy, but everything takes longer than I expect. I think again that the lesson here is that the busyness of life can trip me up on a campsite in the redwoods as easily as it can living my pace and commitments at home.Maybe staying so busy is about not letting myself be in touch with whatever part of me is missing the familiarity and routine of my life, not to mention my loved ones. Maybe it is an avoidance of what I hoped to at least get a glimpse of during this time away... Maybe it is just part of this natural rhythm that I seem so determined to nail down, and understand. Some part of me believes that if only I could really do that, that I could come to accept myself in a fuller way, not always feeling that I just can't quite make the mark.
Ok, so let's explore that avenue of understanding. If my rhythm is full steam ahead, pack in as much as I can, alternating with let down, fatigue, and feeling that either I should be doing more, or that I should be doing less, that feels like I never get to be truly content. That I'm always striving to get more done, in order to take time to get less done. Feels like a vicious cycle of distraction from what could be more deeply meaningful. But what would that be?Slowing down too much leaves me judging myself as lazy, wasting "my potential" (whatever that is), and down. Keeping too busy feels energizing to a point, then I crash and burn. That's when I advise myself, so wisely, that I need to find a better balance. But what if this is my balance? What if this is as good as it gets, and I'm missing the boat by not simply accepting it, accepting myself, and this sine wave rhythm that apparently fits?
Perhaps I could practice mindfully and consciously full speed ahead, followed by the screeching halt, as wholly as possible. Quit trying to refine, fix, balance, and simply accept? That feels challenging! Apparently I'm much more familiar with the tinkering of my life, as if there is some perfect recipe and that if I follow it the ups and downs will even out. Do I really want that? I don't know, but am grateful for the time to ponder...
Kaffe Klatch Kafe, Fairfax CA
Want to say thanks to all who have posted comments on this blog. It is a treat for me, as if your energy and caring are concretely apparent and available to me on this journey. THANKS!
I had a long hike planned for today. It was a really special hike, so it's a big deal that I have chosen instead to take the day to relax, reflect, and write. I am realizing how useful it is for me to write as a way to slow down and connect with something deeper inside me. I have always known that to be the case, but somehow the meaning of it is sinking in, in a new way...
So, I'm thinking that part of my packing so much into the past few days has been out of excitement as well as needing to learn the lay of the land, as I am certainly out of my element. Camping is a joy, but everything takes longer than I expect. I think again that the lesson here is that the busyness of life can trip me up on a campsite in the redwoods as easily as it can living my pace and commitments at home.Maybe staying so busy is about not letting myself be in touch with whatever part of me is missing the familiarity and routine of my life, not to mention my loved ones. Maybe it is an avoidance of what I hoped to at least get a glimpse of during this time away... Maybe it is just part of this natural rhythm that I seem so determined to nail down, and understand. Some part of me believes that if only I could really do that, that I could come to accept myself in a fuller way, not always feeling that I just can't quite make the mark.
Ok, so let's explore that avenue of understanding. If my rhythm is full steam ahead, pack in as much as I can, alternating with let down, fatigue, and feeling that either I should be doing more, or that I should be doing less, that feels like I never get to be truly content. That I'm always striving to get more done, in order to take time to get less done. Feels like a vicious cycle of distraction from what could be more deeply meaningful. But what would that be?Slowing down too much leaves me judging myself as lazy, wasting "my potential" (whatever that is), and down. Keeping too busy feels energizing to a point, then I crash and burn. That's when I advise myself, so wisely, that I need to find a better balance. But what if this is my balance? What if this is as good as it gets, and I'm missing the boat by not simply accepting it, accepting myself, and this sine wave rhythm that apparently fits?
Perhaps I could practice mindfully and consciously full speed ahead, followed by the screeching halt, as wholly as possible. Quit trying to refine, fix, balance, and simply accept? That feels challenging! Apparently I'm much more familiar with the tinkering of my life, as if there is some perfect recipe and that if I follow it the ups and downs will even out. Do I really want that? I don't know, but am grateful for the time to ponder...
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
At the Cafe
Tuesday October 2, 2007
Starbucks Café, Mill Valley, CA
Well, this afternoon I’m catching up on writing, connecting, and anything else I was counting on my computer for… At first it felt as if I’d be wasting the entire afternoon. Then I realized that this is exactly what I wanted to do today. I had just imagined doing it at my campsite, not in town. Alas, being dependent on electricity limits my options.
This morning I walked around the campgrounds, and took a bike ride. The walk along the creek provided another treat. I noticed something move ahead of me on the trail, and stopped short. 30 to 4o feet in front of me,(I’m not so good at judging distance, but it was fairly close) in the dappled sunlight of the redwood forest, was a young buck; small antler rack on his head. We sized one another up for a few seconds, and then he moseyed off. Very cool!!! A little further down the trail was a beautifully intricate spider’s web shining in the warm sun. It was about 2 feet in diameter; suspended weaving of sticky glory…
The dense woodedness of the campground is a bit oppressive. I guess 25 years under the wide open New Mexico sky has affected me. It’s sort of eerie, and my nostalgic bliss of the past couple of days has subsided. I’m still very pleased that I am on this adventure, and I’m really not lonely(except that I do miss you., dear Ted). I keep telling him that I miss sharing all of this with him, and, I’m glad he’s not here. I do love life’s paradoxes…
A number of wonderful little occurences keep happening. Like today, I wasn’t sure what exit I needed to get off, and just happened to get off and pull into a shopping plaza. I noticed the name, as I needed to be sure to get back out of the parking lot and onto where I was really going. A few hours later, I Googled a list of REI stores in the area. Wouldn’t you know it, the nearest one was in that same shopping center! While in REI, I couldn’t resist purchasing a new thicker (for my 50 year old knees) yoga mat. I couldn’t find mine at home before I left, and I wanted to practice while away. Well, on the way back to the campground I passed a community center in the next town that has had a sign out front advertising an upcoming local art showing. Tonight the sign had been replaced by a new sign, announcing a restorative yoga (my favorite kind) class at 6:30 tomorrow evening. Guess who’s going to attend?
Some people would call those coincidences, others blessings, or synchronicity, and still others a result of my evolved cognitive survival awareness. I wonder, what do I call them?
An important part of this journey is to take some time to ponder what it is I truly believe about the mysteries of life…I think that in different circumstances I call these “occurrences” by the name that I think the person(s) I am talking with would use. Does that make me wishy-washy and shallow? Or does it make me wise, believing that no single word or concept or understanding can hold the full complexity of mystery? I guess I’m comfortable with any of these explanations myself. That sounds contradictory, but it isn’t.
I know that I’m primarily a feeling/sensing person, or soul, or spirit, and that the ‘feel’ of a situation informs me on many levels. I also value my intellect, my rational (though frustratingly ever more forgetful) mind. I guess that when the two come together (the feeling and the thinking) is as close as I get to ‘knowing’ in that deeper way I long to ‘know’.
I know that seeing that deer this morning made me ever more cautious as I drove back to the campground tonight, as the sun was setting. I could call that an omen, or good luck, or well honed awareness. I guess that I’d like to be free to use the words that best describe what it meant to me. Maybe I don’t because I fear the judgment of others, my assuming that they are assuming something about me by my use of particular language. Maybe I simply haven’t taken the opportunity to get clear enough to articulate or commit to that particular language.I do know there are things that I do believe and might even be able to articulate. But I’ll leave that for another day...
Starbucks Café, Mill Valley, CA
Well, this afternoon I’m catching up on writing, connecting, and anything else I was counting on my computer for… At first it felt as if I’d be wasting the entire afternoon. Then I realized that this is exactly what I wanted to do today. I had just imagined doing it at my campsite, not in town. Alas, being dependent on electricity limits my options.
This morning I walked around the campgrounds, and took a bike ride. The walk along the creek provided another treat. I noticed something move ahead of me on the trail, and stopped short. 30 to 4o feet in front of me,(I’m not so good at judging distance, but it was fairly close) in the dappled sunlight of the redwood forest, was a young buck; small antler rack on his head. We sized one another up for a few seconds, and then he moseyed off. Very cool!!! A little further down the trail was a beautifully intricate spider’s web shining in the warm sun. It was about 2 feet in diameter; suspended weaving of sticky glory…
The dense woodedness of the campground is a bit oppressive. I guess 25 years under the wide open New Mexico sky has affected me. It’s sort of eerie, and my nostalgic bliss of the past couple of days has subsided. I’m still very pleased that I am on this adventure, and I’m really not lonely(except that I do miss you., dear Ted). I keep telling him that I miss sharing all of this with him, and, I’m glad he’s not here. I do love life’s paradoxes…
A number of wonderful little occurences keep happening. Like today, I wasn’t sure what exit I needed to get off, and just happened to get off and pull into a shopping plaza. I noticed the name, as I needed to be sure to get back out of the parking lot and onto where I was really going. A few hours later, I Googled a list of REI stores in the area. Wouldn’t you know it, the nearest one was in that same shopping center! While in REI, I couldn’t resist purchasing a new thicker (for my 50 year old knees) yoga mat. I couldn’t find mine at home before I left, and I wanted to practice while away. Well, on the way back to the campground I passed a community center in the next town that has had a sign out front advertising an upcoming local art showing. Tonight the sign had been replaced by a new sign, announcing a restorative yoga (my favorite kind) class at 6:30 tomorrow evening. Guess who’s going to attend?
Some people would call those coincidences, others blessings, or synchronicity, and still others a result of my evolved cognitive survival awareness. I wonder, what do I call them?
An important part of this journey is to take some time to ponder what it is I truly believe about the mysteries of life…I think that in different circumstances I call these “occurrences” by the name that I think the person(s) I am talking with would use. Does that make me wishy-washy and shallow? Or does it make me wise, believing that no single word or concept or understanding can hold the full complexity of mystery? I guess I’m comfortable with any of these explanations myself. That sounds contradictory, but it isn’t.
I know that I’m primarily a feeling/sensing person, or soul, or spirit, and that the ‘feel’ of a situation informs me on many levels. I also value my intellect, my rational (though frustratingly ever more forgetful) mind. I guess that when the two come together (the feeling and the thinking) is as close as I get to ‘knowing’ in that deeper way I long to ‘know’.
I know that seeing that deer this morning made me ever more cautious as I drove back to the campground tonight, as the sun was setting. I could call that an omen, or good luck, or well honed awareness. I guess that I’d like to be free to use the words that best describe what it meant to me. Maybe I don’t because I fear the judgment of others, my assuming that they are assuming something about me by my use of particular language. Maybe I simply haven’t taken the opportunity to get clear enough to articulate or commit to that particular language.I do know there are things that I do believe and might even be able to articulate. But I’ll leave that for another day...
Tuesday, October 2, 2007
Continuing…
The nicest couple is camping next to me. They are new owners of a VW Westfalia Camper Van, and they love it! I told them this was my third, and that once the bug bites you, it’s a lifetime relationship. I remember when these pop tops first came out, back in the ‘60’s. I was about 7, and our family test drove one. I thought it was the coolest thing ever! My heart was broken when my dad said, “ This is a dog, it doesn’t have any power.” Little did he know, but he’d been bitten too. Years later (once those German engineers figured out how to power them up), he and mom got their own“ Westie”, and used it for many years.
At age 14 I read James Michener’s The Drifters” and it sparked my desire to travel Europe in a pop top VW. Haven’t made it to Europe yet, but about 20 years later, along came my beloved Ted, with this wild trip he planned for us during my 3rd year of med school. We drove from Albuquerque to the Belizian/Guatemalan border, along the entire Gulf coast of Mexico and the Yucatan, down into Belize (and back) in a specially purchased 1967 VW pop top. I can’t imagine being without one now… Guess I’ve always had some wanderlust, now that I come to think of it…
Anyway, “Westie” campers are a special breed, and it was a pleasure to meet these new converts. They convinced me, and gave me some awesome directions to follow the Pacific Coast Highway(PCH) all the way to where I’ll be camping for the next 5 nights, in Marin County. After a mellow morning, a bike ride, and watching a pod of dolphins, and a couple of seals through the binoculars, I took off...
One of my favorite things about being on the road is the music. Some people sing in the shower, but I sing in the car. I feel energized, and enlivened by the beat and lyrics of music that I love (who doesn’t?). So, my ipod has been a good companion for these days on the road. But, I also borrowed some books on CD from the library before I left. Julia Alvarez’s
In the Time of the Butterflies is awesome so far. The Indigo Girls , Melissa Ethridge, and James Taylor make great road companions. But today was the PCH along the Northern California coast to San Francisco, so it just had to be the Grateful Dead! Sing it to me Jerry!!!!
More farmed fields jutting right up to the seaside; brussel sprouts, huge orange pumpkins, and strawberry fields forever… A beautiful, lightly overcast day, keeping it cool enough to have my windows down instead of the A/C, I hugged the coast all the way to San Francisco, sea breeze blowing through the van.
Just before the PCH turned into the Great Highway, skirting the beach that borders SF on the west side of the city, I saw a whole hillside scraped away, covered with enormous earth moving machines. It looked like they were mining or something. As I approached, I read a sign; “Devil’s Slide Tunnel Project”, and saw that was what they were up to. On the other side of “the slide” were 2 enormous concrete pilings that were hundreds of feet tall. The span between hadn’t been erected yet, which looks as if it will be another SF spanning bridge. It’s amazing what we humans can construct.
The Golden Gate is still orange, and still felt thrilling to cross. San Francisco loomed wondrous across the Bay, not a wisp of fog in sight. Up into the Marin headlands, and back to the picturesque coast. I love that shimmery water as the afternoon sun bounces off of it, the sea glimmering like jewels. Another California treat that I had forgotten about, driving through tall, majestic eucalyptus groves. What a “scentsational” trip this is turning into.
Finally made it to my campground, so different from where I stayed last night. This is dark and damp, under the canopy of those tall and mighty redwoods. Silly me, I was surprised that I had no cell signal way out here, so I drove 20 minutes into the nearest town in order to make contact with loved ones. I thought that the whole internet thing would be a convenient way to keep in touch. It’s actually a bit of a challenge to keep the computer charged, and to have a cell phone signal so I can access the internet. I would have thought the whole of this state would be wireless, what with all those dot commers of a decade ago. Anyway, these postings may indeed come in spurts. Love to all...
The nicest couple is camping next to me. They are new owners of a VW Westfalia Camper Van, and they love it! I told them this was my third, and that once the bug bites you, it’s a lifetime relationship. I remember when these pop tops first came out, back in the ‘60’s. I was about 7, and our family test drove one. I thought it was the coolest thing ever! My heart was broken when my dad said, “ This is a dog, it doesn’t have any power.” Little did he know, but he’d been bitten too. Years later (once those German engineers figured out how to power them up), he and mom got their own“ Westie”, and used it for many years.
At age 14 I read James Michener’s The Drifters” and it sparked my desire to travel Europe in a pop top VW. Haven’t made it to Europe yet, but about 20 years later, along came my beloved Ted, with this wild trip he planned for us during my 3rd year of med school. We drove from Albuquerque to the Belizian/Guatemalan border, along the entire Gulf coast of Mexico and the Yucatan, down into Belize (and back) in a specially purchased 1967 VW pop top. I can’t imagine being without one now… Guess I’ve always had some wanderlust, now that I come to think of it…
Anyway, “Westie” campers are a special breed, and it was a pleasure to meet these new converts. They convinced me, and gave me some awesome directions to follow the Pacific Coast Highway(PCH) all the way to where I’ll be camping for the next 5 nights, in Marin County. After a mellow morning, a bike ride, and watching a pod of dolphins, and a couple of seals through the binoculars, I took off...
One of my favorite things about being on the road is the music. Some people sing in the shower, but I sing in the car. I feel energized, and enlivened by the beat and lyrics of music that I love (who doesn’t?). So, my ipod has been a good companion for these days on the road. But, I also borrowed some books on CD from the library before I left. Julia Alvarez’s
In the Time of the Butterflies is awesome so far. The Indigo Girls , Melissa Ethridge, and James Taylor make great road companions. But today was the PCH along the Northern California coast to San Francisco, so it just had to be the Grateful Dead! Sing it to me Jerry!!!!
More farmed fields jutting right up to the seaside; brussel sprouts, huge orange pumpkins, and strawberry fields forever… A beautiful, lightly overcast day, keeping it cool enough to have my windows down instead of the A/C, I hugged the coast all the way to San Francisco, sea breeze blowing through the van.
Just before the PCH turned into the Great Highway, skirting the beach that borders SF on the west side of the city, I saw a whole hillside scraped away, covered with enormous earth moving machines. It looked like they were mining or something. As I approached, I read a sign; “Devil’s Slide Tunnel Project”, and saw that was what they were up to. On the other side of “the slide” were 2 enormous concrete pilings that were hundreds of feet tall. The span between hadn’t been erected yet, which looks as if it will be another SF spanning bridge. It’s amazing what we humans can construct.
The Golden Gate is still orange, and still felt thrilling to cross. San Francisco loomed wondrous across the Bay, not a wisp of fog in sight. Up into the Marin headlands, and back to the picturesque coast. I love that shimmery water as the afternoon sun bounces off of it, the sea glimmering like jewels. Another California treat that I had forgotten about, driving through tall, majestic eucalyptus groves. What a “scentsational” trip this is turning into.
Finally made it to my campground, so different from where I stayed last night. This is dark and damp, under the canopy of those tall and mighty redwoods. Silly me, I was surprised that I had no cell signal way out here, so I drove 20 minutes into the nearest town in order to make contact with loved ones. I thought that the whole internet thing would be a convenient way to keep in touch. It’s actually a bit of a challenge to keep the computer charged, and to have a cell phone signal so I can access the internet. I would have thought the whole of this state would be wireless, what with all those dot commers of a decade ago. Anyway, these postings may indeed come in spurts. Love to all...
WOW!
8:30 pm Monday, October 01, 2007
Samuel P. Taylor State Park, Bolinas, CA
What a couple of days. Driving through California, with a lump in my throat…
I left Northern California on April 1, 1982 after having lived there for 3 years. Except for flying into San Francisco in 1998 to take my National Boards exam, I haven’t been back. When I left, I was the same age my daughter Megan is right now. At the time she wasn’t yet even a “twinkle”…
I forgot the magnificence that is California, the majesty and the might. Driving across the Central Valley I was reminded how agricultural and rural much of it is. I passed miles and miles of orchards, vineyards, roses, and cotton fields. I was on the road early enough to spot a coyote, just down from the hills trotting across a fallow field. I passed double rig 18 wheelers, their cargo in deep bucket like beds, laden with fresh tomatoes, and pungent garlic that I could smell as I passed on the highway. I went by a stockyard that was the size of a village (p-u!!!), as well as cattle and calves, and horses grazing the hillsides and pastures. I passed flocks of newly shorn sheep, golden hillsides, and wide open blue skies. No more fear or trepidation. This is my world, and I get to feel the aliveness of it, and of me!
I also forgot what a state of contrasts California is. Intermixed with the flora and fauna were oil rigs, pumping their monotonous rhythm. There were enormous power stations, and miles of huge power lines crossing the Valley, headed to supply those urban megalopolises along the coast. I was reminded of the rolling blackouts of a few years back. I glimpsed part of the gigantic California aqueduct system; excavated, paved diversion of the mountain runoff from the majestic Sierra Nevada Mountains. More of the state’s riches captured and diverted to the coastal cities.
I used to camp in the Sierras. The coldest, clearest, most refreshing mountain streams I have ever swam or bathed in. Tuolumne, Mokelumne, Stanislaus, Hetch Hetchy, names from my past, all mixed in with remembering and longing. As I cut over Tehachapi Pass, along the southern border of the Sierra Nevada, something new dots the mountainside. Huge wind turbines cover the hills and ridgelines in what I’m sure is accurately engineered patterns. Although, to me they look artistic and modern adding an unusual beauty to the business at hand (much preferred to the pumping oil rigs).
After traversing the Central Valley, I decided to keep on ‘til I reached the coast, on Sunday afternoon. I first crossed the Diablo Range, swooping down into the Salinas Valley, and through Gilroy, Ca. They say that olfactory memories are some of the most potent, our sense of smell having been quite important to our forebearers. Well, let me tell you, Gilroy has to be one of the most amazing smelling towns on Earth! I used to love to drive through on my way to the Sierras because it smelled soooooooooooo good! Gilroy is touted to be the garlic capital of the world. I was lucky enough to attend an annual Garlic Festival there back in the ‘80’s, and everyone who crossed my path for the next week knew where I had been. Apparently they know how to put that garlic, as well as other herbs to good use in Gilroy, as there is a spice factory on the outskirts of town. Driving by is one of the treats of a lifetime, and I’m so glad I got to sniff my way through Gilroy once again!
One more set of mountains left, the Coast Range. I found a primo campsite overlooking Monterey Bay, about 30 miles north of Monterey proper, Sunset Beach State Park. Ahhhhhhhhh, finally get to camp. I grew up camping. I am aware of deep gratitude to my folks for giving me the gift of the outdoors; of water and sky, the animals, the wonder of being on the planet, and one with all of its life and creatures. Time to set up camp, take a bike ride, cook and eat a simple dinner, walk the beach, sketch, and witness an amazing orange sun setting over the Pacific. (For those of you who don’t know, I don’t sketch. My artistic development was arrested in about the third grade. But, now that I’m 50, I’m gonna keep on trying lots of new things. Especially things that I’ve always told myself that I’m not good at…)I slept like a baby, stars so bright, the moon half there…
Samuel P. Taylor State Park, Bolinas, CA
What a couple of days. Driving through California, with a lump in my throat…
I left Northern California on April 1, 1982 after having lived there for 3 years. Except for flying into San Francisco in 1998 to take my National Boards exam, I haven’t been back. When I left, I was the same age my daughter Megan is right now. At the time she wasn’t yet even a “twinkle”…
I forgot the magnificence that is California, the majesty and the might. Driving across the Central Valley I was reminded how agricultural and rural much of it is. I passed miles and miles of orchards, vineyards, roses, and cotton fields. I was on the road early enough to spot a coyote, just down from the hills trotting across a fallow field. I passed double rig 18 wheelers, their cargo in deep bucket like beds, laden with fresh tomatoes, and pungent garlic that I could smell as I passed on the highway. I went by a stockyard that was the size of a village (p-u!!!), as well as cattle and calves, and horses grazing the hillsides and pastures. I passed flocks of newly shorn sheep, golden hillsides, and wide open blue skies. No more fear or trepidation. This is my world, and I get to feel the aliveness of it, and of me!
I also forgot what a state of contrasts California is. Intermixed with the flora and fauna were oil rigs, pumping their monotonous rhythm. There were enormous power stations, and miles of huge power lines crossing the Valley, headed to supply those urban megalopolises along the coast. I was reminded of the rolling blackouts of a few years back. I glimpsed part of the gigantic California aqueduct system; excavated, paved diversion of the mountain runoff from the majestic Sierra Nevada Mountains. More of the state’s riches captured and diverted to the coastal cities.
I used to camp in the Sierras. The coldest, clearest, most refreshing mountain streams I have ever swam or bathed in. Tuolumne, Mokelumne, Stanislaus, Hetch Hetchy, names from my past, all mixed in with remembering and longing. As I cut over Tehachapi Pass, along the southern border of the Sierra Nevada, something new dots the mountainside. Huge wind turbines cover the hills and ridgelines in what I’m sure is accurately engineered patterns. Although, to me they look artistic and modern adding an unusual beauty to the business at hand (much preferred to the pumping oil rigs).
After traversing the Central Valley, I decided to keep on ‘til I reached the coast, on Sunday afternoon. I first crossed the Diablo Range, swooping down into the Salinas Valley, and through Gilroy, Ca. They say that olfactory memories are some of the most potent, our sense of smell having been quite important to our forebearers. Well, let me tell you, Gilroy has to be one of the most amazing smelling towns on Earth! I used to love to drive through on my way to the Sierras because it smelled soooooooooooo good! Gilroy is touted to be the garlic capital of the world. I was lucky enough to attend an annual Garlic Festival there back in the ‘80’s, and everyone who crossed my path for the next week knew where I had been. Apparently they know how to put that garlic, as well as other herbs to good use in Gilroy, as there is a spice factory on the outskirts of town. Driving by is one of the treats of a lifetime, and I’m so glad I got to sniff my way through Gilroy once again!
One more set of mountains left, the Coast Range. I found a primo campsite overlooking Monterey Bay, about 30 miles north of Monterey proper, Sunset Beach State Park. Ahhhhhhhhh, finally get to camp. I grew up camping. I am aware of deep gratitude to my folks for giving me the gift of the outdoors; of water and sky, the animals, the wonder of being on the planet, and one with all of its life and creatures. Time to set up camp, take a bike ride, cook and eat a simple dinner, walk the beach, sketch, and witness an amazing orange sun setting over the Pacific. (For those of you who don’t know, I don’t sketch. My artistic development was arrested in about the third grade. But, now that I’m 50, I’m gonna keep on trying lots of new things. Especially things that I’ve always told myself that I’m not good at…)I slept like a baby, stars so bright, the moon half there…
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
