Vacation at Home – Part 8 

An Open Weekend 

Don’t you love those weekends that are fully yours and you can do exactly what you want?  As much as I love connection and community, I also treasure those open weekends with no planned activity, appointments, errands or home-caring chores - - rare and precious!  

We started on Friday night, ambling on down to Sidebar, enjoying our neighborhood, so grateful that we live in such a vibrant place. To our delight, there were two perfect seats at the bar with our names on them.  I got a Pellegrino limonata; tart, refreshing and delicious and Rob got some frothy drink that was fun to watch the bartender shake - shake - and then shake some more with all her might! And we had yummy artichokes (how do you eat those?) and steak fries and talked about our week. 

Rob had a full Saturday, working way into the evening, so I decided that I would go out to where else? Point Reyes! I got a really late start, because you know that I love to sleep in, read, drink coffee and lay around in the mornings.  I finally started packing up around noon, which was fine by me, I could stay out and play as long as I liked.  

It was a live recording Little Feat kind of day; I listened to interesting, messy renditions of my favorites on Raw Tomatoes, Waiting for Columbus and Live at Neon Park, as I motored top down on Sir Francis Drake, through gorgeous, spring-green Marin County; San Anselmo, Fairfax, Woodacre and Spirit Rock, through the San Geronimo Valley and past the sunny front patio of that sweet café in Lagunitas just before hitting the woods of Samuel P. Taylor state park. Then, after seven miles of winding road, it always thrills me to blast out of the trees into the wide open Golden Gate National Park and Old Folks Boogie perfectly matched my mood. I stopped to hike the Bolinas Ridge Trail, right before Olema to get some energy out and ate my lunch on a rock overlooking a vista of hills, rock and ocean. I continued past the cows to Jewel Trail, down to the stream and power walked down the Cross Marin Trail on a loop back to the car. 

Back on the road with Little Feat, and a little energy thankfully dissipated, I decided to go ahead and barrel through the fog I saw rolling in from Bolinas Ridge. I was headed toward the end of the world to see those wildflowers and Tule elk at Point Tomales. Oh, was it ever cold out there! Miraculously only ten miles from blazing sunshine and blue sky, it was very foggy with a fierce wind. I put on everything I brought; Patagonia fleece, ear warmer, wool scarf and gloves and set out in search of the wildflowers. It was so worth it! Glorious, glorious, glorious blankets of yellow, pink, purple and white, high on a ridge overlooking the ocean on one side and Tomales Bay on the other. There were a few hardy spirits sharing it with me, including an East Indian family who asked me to take their picture. Despite the wind and the cold, I was moved by their enthusiasm and joy; one of the young men kept exclaiming, “Have you smelled the yellow ones? The yellow ones?” “Oh, yes!” I yelled back, “I’m stopping every five minutes to put my nose right in them!”

 

 

After a while the flowers thinned out and I turned around, having had enough of the cold and the wind. I headed back to the car, where I blasted the heat and finished the rest of my lunch.  Then I set out through the fog, dialing it way down with John Hiatt as I drove slowly through the dairy farms, Kehoe Beach, Abbot’s Lagoon, and Heart’s Desire, and then back in to the sunshine by the time I hit Inverness Park.  

I motored back through the gorgeous San Geronimo Valley, golden and green in the late afternoon light and stopped in sweet, hippie Fairfax, took a little walk, watched families eating ice cream and settled into a café with a cup of hot tea and the next book we’re reading for Gloria’s book club, The Language of Flowers. I stayed as long as I liked – I love that free feeling of unfettered time. 

I rambled slowly back to the red Miata about 7:30 with its top still down and got back on the road, marveling at how San Quentin is positioned on some of the most beautiful land in California, overlooking the bay; up and over the majestic San Rafael bridge, (my favorite in the Bay Area), rising up out of the sun and fog, eerily lit like a stairway to the heavens, back to the East Bay, top still down, heat and Little Feat blasting , fog rolling in at a fierce pace.  Feeling a little wild - gotta love it! 

I was so happy to drive into 295 Lenox and see Rob and we shared about our respective days, then off he went to bed (he gets up early, early on Sundays), and I stayed up really late (around 2:00 am), eating chocolate and playing with I-Tunes, listening to bands I’ve heard about in Rolling Stone and reading myself to sleep. 

I arose at the very human hour of 10:00 this morning, took the morning off from church, (obviously!) and climbed on to the hammock on our balcony, settling in underneath a flannel down comforter, stacks of books, my beautiful flowers from the chaplains for Administrative Professionals Day, a full carafe of coffee, my journal and Little Pink to write to you and sweet Pablo, nestled close to me.  

 

Later in the afternoon, during my power walk (and more Little Feat), Lake Merritt was especially buzzing with people, picnics, puppies, colorful African turbans and gorgeous ink on exposed limbs. God, I love it here! 

Thank you for a rejuvenating weekend on Vacation at Home!

Vacation at Home – Part 7 - Simplicity

I want to live in deeper simplicity and broader generosity.   

One way of living vacation at home is to keep life simple.  There is a lot to be said for a small place without a lot to maintain, paring down the furniture, appliances, books, clothes, linens, dishes and generally keeping the stuff down to a minimum.  What do I really need?  There is nothing more stultifying than the burden of useless things.  Simplifying my life is a seasonal ritual for me; I remember sharing with you about culling through clothes, jewelry, books, appliances and dishes. It feels exhilarating to order and simplify my life. It frees me up for what is really important to me. What is of ultimate value? How can I appreciate what I already have? 

I try to eliminate the clutter of too much activity by keeping appointments, tasks, errands, obligations, committees, and empty social engagements to a minimum.  I simplify not only my possessions, but also the way I spend my time.  Time is my most precious resource.  Vacation at home is really about learning the art of maximizing the time available for meaningful activity, serenity and joy.   

I try to simplify my mind, too, keeping it clear and clean by focusing on one thing at a time.  Although there are the same 24 hours in a day every day, I feel like I have more time when I do one thing at a time. Time actually seems to expand.  I dial it down and focus, instead of working circularly, (an old habit of mine), never having the satisfaction of finishing anything.  There is unequivocal joy in focusing on one thing at a time.  Even the most mundane tasks can be fun when I approach them purposefully, mindfully, and from a grounded place. 

Vacation at Home – Part 6 

Solitude and Community

 

My Beloved Point Reyes

 I have found that alternating between solitude and community; reflection and activity, help keep me at my highest creative state.  I go out and experience life in all its vividness and color and then return inside myself to write about it. I try to capture the feeling of vacation with words.  Then, the pendulum swings.  I can only get so far on my own.  I need the connection and stimulation of relationship.  I spend time with friends and community, sharing activities, ideas and insights, learning about what gives them energy and joy.  We open our inner landscapes to one another and are enriched in the process. 

 

I experience my generosity and the best parts of myself when I am engaged and happy.   My heart is open and I am available to others.  I feel more connected to God, myself, the people in my life and to the place I live.  I realize that creativity requires time; free, unstructured, unfettered, gloriously unhurried time.  While I need time and solitude in order to create, I know that creation is impossible for me outside of community. But invariably the pendulum swings once again and I crave the alone time to fully absorb and saturate myself in what I have learned and experienced.

Women's Group - All Saints

 

Re-Inventing Karla a Year Later

 

 

 

It has been a year almost to the day since I started writing to you through Re-inventing Karla. I’ve continued healing and growing, rotated through four seasons, wrote to you from Paris parks and patisseries, skied in Tahoe, celebrated my 56^th birthday at the famous Bracebridge concert in Yosemite, went to Colorado’s Red Rocks with Karen, met mountain climber, Annie Whitehouse, braved the fierce spray from a waterfall last summer in Yosemite with Elise and Haywood, rolled through West Oakland with Lena, had tea with Gloria, and roamed through the Occidental Farmer’s Market on opening weekend, went on discovery walks through San Francisco with Ann, explored Point Reyes with Alexandra, discovered new cafes and rambled through a plethora of East Bay restaurants with a group of faithful epicures, kept my wild streak going and rocked at the Furthur concert with Maureen and Los Lonely Boys with Edie and the girls, and at the end of it all; cut my hair! And most importantly, enjoyed the solitude and the quiet and the ecstasy of the inner life with God that makes it all possible.

 

 

 

 

 

 

I realize what a good year it has been and I am grateful. The Daily Word reminds me that, “Life is meant to be lived fully and intentionally. As I string together day after joyful day I create a wonderful and blessed life.” 

I thought it might be fun to remind us all of my initial vision and how Re-Inventing Karla got started so I’m reprinting my first post . . .

 

For about three years I’ve been working on a book, Vacation at Home, Cultivating Delight in the Everyday.  I will post several of my ideas here; including the spirit of adventure, gratitude and love of place, being authentic, staying curious, keeping it simple, creating systems that liberate. . . the ecstasy of the inner life, embracing silence, listening deeply, engaging passions, sustaining rituals, rotation of the seasons . . . live music, movies, restaurants, theater, cafes, street life, energy and movement . . .expedition days, weekends, spa days and sacred grooming . . . the year of healing, retreats, books, reading, pots and more pots of tea  . . . holiday rituals, entertaining, designing experiences for others, re-creating home and moving the furniture on Memorial Day, favorite places, vibrant colors, eccentric characters, different identities, alternate stories, unlived lives . . .and keeping it fresh within the core structures. (Oh boy, rereading this gives me lots of ideas to write to you about during the second year . . )

 But my friend, Val, (a real writer, yes, the real thing) helped me to realize that all of this has been sourced by the core process of re-inventing myself.  I moved around a lot as a kid; grew up in several grade schools, three junior highs and three high schools, all in various parts of the country.  I experienced a fair amount of struggle and loneliness and self-consciousness trying to be clever and interesting enough to get some new friends every year.  Some years were good to me and some were brutal, especially in that hypersensitive part of the journey called adolescence.  I got a little broken there, but the strength and ingenuity I developed have served me through my life.  I know how to re-invent myself.  I’ve learned how to cultivate an awareness of joy and beauty and recognized the angels who have helped me along the way. 

I’ve rarely chosen to move as an adult, only three or four times, but each place has required me to re-invent myself depending on the culture, the work, the friends, my identity, my age and the gifts in that particular location.  I’ve never thought of myself as creative.  But I realize that moving through life itself is a creative process.  The most recent move was from folksy Eugene, Oregon to the Bay Area.  Some things were similar, like the progressive culture and the western vibe, but Oakland, California is very different from Eugene; very different indeed.  I didn’t want to go; I loved Eugene, I loved my friends, I loved our home, I loved the trees, I loved the wild Oregon Coast.  But seminary and ordained priesthood called to my husband, and I was part of the team.  When you’re married, their dreams are your dreams and their shit is your shit.  (Thank you, dear Judith for that quip.)  I worried about it for the two years before the move.  Alas, anxiety is one of my struggles.  But the day finally came and we loaded up all of our stuff and sweet Sammy, (our orange tom), and hurtled down the coast until we hit Berkeley.   

I worked through all the worry and moved down here with a decent attitude, thank God.   I immediately began to explore the area.  It’s so big!  There’s so much to do!  To learn!  To experience!  I loved it here and have kept loving it to this day.  I am enraptured in a love affair with the Bay Area!  We’ve been here for almost 15 years, the longest by far I’ve ever lived anywhere.  I’ve had the same job for over 10 years, the same husband for over 20, and most of the same friends.  But lately I’ve been very aware of being transplanted to a bigger pot where there is more room to expand my roots, my relationships, my experiences and my vocation into greater meaning and purpose as I get older.  This has been a new challenge without the forced geographic moves of my childhood.  I see so many people’s lives get smaller as they get older.  But time is so precious, (much more precious than money), and life is short and wondrous and it unfurls in its glory and its loveliness as I immerse myself deeper and deeper. I invite you, dear reader, to join me on the journey of reinventing self as we grow older, (not for the fainthearted!) in this wild, beautiful place. 

From my journals, Oakland, California, March 31, 2012.

 

Develop interest in life as you see it; in people, things, literature, music – the world is so rich, simply throbbing with rich treasures, beautiful souls and interesting people.  Forget yourself. 

- Henry Miller

 

 

 

Vacation Almost at Home - Part 5

St. Dorothy’s Rest Retreat House

 

This is truly a holy room. Lots of prayers have been said here, lots of listening, too, . . . the rain, the fire, the quiet, my heart, God . . .

I’m up at an Episcopal retreat house, called St. Dorothy’s Rest, near Occidental, deep in the Northern California redwoods. I can see the mist curling through tall pines, gazing out a long row of wood-framed panes from a four poster bed – oh, sweet God, there are windows everywhere I turn – I love this! There is even a gorgeous stained glass window with blue trim and a wooden cross.

 

 

A pot-belly gas stove turns on intermittently; magically to heat the room when it dips below 70 degrees. (I want one of these!) I kept it on all night; fell asleep watching its little fire; woke up once at dawn to its warm, dancing light, then nestled back into the covers and woke up around 7:30 to its sweet fire once again and got my first glimpse of the mossy velvet mist.

 

I feel like I’m a million miles from the city, but in fact, I’m only an hour and a half or so from Oakland. I’m on vacation almost at home.

 

Rob will join me tomorrow – he doesn’t want to miss his painting class and I love looking at his art; his prayer of many colors and interesting shapes, infused with his Rob-essence delights me and lifts my heart.

It is raining so I don’t feel like I have to go outside and be active. I can just stay here all day if I want to and write to you and pray and meditate and read and reflect and start my new mountain climbing book, Anapurna, written in 1951 by Maurice Herzog, a Frenchman, leader of the first expedition to reach the top of one of the giant 8,000 meter peaks in the Himalaya.

I hiked all the way around Bodega Head yesterday at Westside Regional Park outside of Bodega Bay. I strolled along, listening to the seals barking and the mighty surf crashing, gazing down, down, down (almost scary down!) at the magnificent rock and foam amidst the deep turquoise-green pools. Thank you dear CJ for going first and discovering this wild, wonderful area and sharing it with me!

(Can you even believe I forgot my camera?!?)

Dear reader, if you live in the Bay Area, come out here! It is a whole different world from the city. In fact, no matter where you live, go out to the closest wild place. Go out there now! Or really soon. It’s worth the energy. Walk in beauty. It will save your soul.

Rambling along spring green roads like the Bohemian Highway and Joy Road, (oh, dear God, so green!), I stopped at an antique store and bought a floppy black hat for $10. I’ll wear it to church next Sunday. It will collapse easily in a suitcase and will get to go on the next trip to Paris. And it will always remind me of this precious weekend near the end of this year of healing. Only a faint trace remains of the vertigo; the shoulder and toe joints are slowly healing. My spirit soars from a deeper, anchored place. Thanks be to God!