I have literally just returned from a delicious after-dinner bike ride on the "ditch" - the open aqueduct slowly ambling around and down the mountain that I'm living on. Alongside the ditch is a wide, rocky and gently sloping nine-mile path that is absolutely stop-your-breath beautiful and perfect for biking or hiking.
On a walk, one could peer at hundreds of sweet little things along the way, like bleeding hearts, flowering manzanita, a plethora of friendly dogs, and the occasional slug. But on a ride, it's the bigger stuff that captures one's senses. Rounding a bend I am smacked into absolute synapse silence - the wordless WOW - when my eyes meet a hundred miles of layered valley and evergreen-strewn mountains backlit by a setting sun.
Or huge roots on the other side of the ditch that hang like a giant octopus. I imagine them gasping for the rich soil, their oxygen. Somehow, the massive tree is as firmly earthed as any I've seen. Perhaps I feel in it a kindred spirit at present... seemingly uprooted and seeking - yet solidly anchored in the deep brown rusty earth. I myself dangle over the unknown, while finding myself thoroughly grounded in the comfort of Family, a profound sense of Right Placement, and the amazing gift of Time.
Tonight's ride reminded me of one of the most important veins in my own happiness. That within me, I have my own antidote - my own secret stash of snake medicine and "mother's little helper" at my disposal at all times.
After a delightful day - walking, working, celebrating my mom's birthday with a tour of Empire Mine State Park, I found myself feeling anxious. I began my necessary on-line search for "what's next," and as the information and questions began to whip around, I was in the middle of a storm of excitement, a sense of wide possibility, and a few hard slaps from my secret inner demon: Doubt. By 4:30 pm, I began rummaging through the refrigerator in hopes of eating my own weight in all foods consisting of wheat, corn, or rice. God bless the Atkins dieter... but I simply do not have it in me.
And so it was that I remembered my own inner medicine cabinet. The bike. Though I love biscuits (or a Corona with lime for that matter), they are weak substitutes for wind in the face, bug on the chin, death grip on the handle bars, flying down a hill on a bike. Looking back, I realize this has always been my personal remedy. I shipped my bike to Connecticut in 1999 when I moved across the country. Almost immediately, I had to find my way- a new home, a new car, a new job - to bloom where I was planted. And I did it on my bike. I could take everything in, small doses, block by block, road by road. And through that meandering, I found my way into a life that I loved.
Today, I make the same effort. So forgive all my metaphors... of riding things out, of coasting, of mustering unknown strength, etc. It's simply where it's at for me. And I know that we all have our individual "fix," our unique form of soul medicine.
My sister, for example, lights holiday candles and plays Christmas music anytime of year when life gets overwhelming. Her husband knows immediately that something is going on if he catches a whiff of pine and cinnamon clove in July. But the thing is, it works! Another close friend heads straight for Target when she feels a dark cloud rising. And she insists that the "Retail Therapy" is still less expensive than psychotherapy.
What is your "go-to" remedy? Running? Meditation? Dance? What sets you back on your path when you've veered off? The trick for me (First, B... close the refrigerator door), is to open up the real medicine cabinet and reach for the right dose of the thing that provides me the most light. Here's hoping your cabinet is filled with the best kind of medicine. Happy trails!
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Hitting the Road
My car arrived from Connecticut this past Monday. I hadn't realized how much I missed the little gal until I had her back, covered in 3,000 miles worth of tawny filth. The huge transport truck stopped on a busy highway on-ramp because it couldn't make any of the turns in town. We rushed through the exhange of cash and signatures, the driver wiped my windows and mirrors clean(ish), and we were both off again in under seven minutes!
My first stop: the "soft touch" car wash. It took two times through to see my car in its original shiny black state - and you couldn't wipe the smile from my face.
The wheels definitely add some balance to life "at home." I've had a wonderful first week in California spending time with my mom - we hiked the gorgeous canyon trails above the river at South Yuba State Park (the wildflowers are at the tail of their peak), organized my living space, ran more errands than I can count, and talked each others' ears off. It's been lovely. However, after living solo for fifteen years - it is good to have the option to take off on my own for a while.
So yesterday I did just that. I went town-hopping all day and got lost on purpose. Though I find myself exhausted each night, I know that it is from taking in so many new views, directions, people and details. To be present and aware of everything around me is the best kind of living. It is exhilerating and in dramatic contrast to driving to work on auto-pilot each day. The trick for me, a notorious "dabbler" who tends to bounce around a bit, will be to find that balance between change and consistency, adventure and stability, so that I can keep the feeling alive while I'm standing still. Because Life's constantly shifting energy is what makes for the wild ride - if we pay attention.
So... as for California:
Before the plane even landed in Sacramento, I could tell things would be different. My seatmate, a young photographer and surfer (yes, this cliche was the REAL DEAL!), was a certified card-carrying member of the "medicinal marijuana" club. OK, so clearly it's not a club - I don't have the lingo down just yet. He showed me the "pass" that he was prescribed for his case of TMJ, and I said, "Really. Really??! So you're saying that instead of wearing my fabulously chic mouthguard every night - I could just eat a brownie?" Who knew.
And of course there are other well-worn stereotypes here in Northern California. Everyone does seem to be exceptionally friendly, laid back and service oriented. If you enter the local Save Mart Grocery, you better bring your poker face, because to look lost or perplexed, even for a moment, brings one or more employees ready to assist you to the proper aisle. Judging from recent experience, my standard look is lost and perplexed.
Yes, there are abundant dreadlocks, smart cars and food co-ops... as well as an equally visible contingency of bearded men in pick-up trucks, whose dogs likely vote Republican. I've found the local Officers of the Peace a little up-tight too. Jaywalking, for instance, is seriously frowned upon in Nevada City. More accurately, it is scowled upon with a look of crazy intimidation and total disgust. Oops.
So as I acclimate to my new surroundings, I begin to think about what's next... job, destination, vision and life plan. I'll start by looking back a little ways - because some of the best dreams are the ones that you've had forever. And I'll take it in small bites, as my dear friend suggests. Half of the fun is on the path... I promise to keep you posted along the way!
My first stop: the "soft touch" car wash. It took two times through to see my car in its original shiny black state - and you couldn't wipe the smile from my face.
The wheels definitely add some balance to life "at home." I've had a wonderful first week in California spending time with my mom - we hiked the gorgeous canyon trails above the river at South Yuba State Park (the wildflowers are at the tail of their peak), organized my living space, ran more errands than I can count, and talked each others' ears off. It's been lovely. However, after living solo for fifteen years - it is good to have the option to take off on my own for a while.
So yesterday I did just that. I went town-hopping all day and got lost on purpose. Though I find myself exhausted each night, I know that it is from taking in so many new views, directions, people and details. To be present and aware of everything around me is the best kind of living. It is exhilerating and in dramatic contrast to driving to work on auto-pilot each day. The trick for me, a notorious "dabbler" who tends to bounce around a bit, will be to find that balance between change and consistency, adventure and stability, so that I can keep the feeling alive while I'm standing still. Because Life's constantly shifting energy is what makes for the wild ride - if we pay attention.
So... as for California:
Before the plane even landed in Sacramento, I could tell things would be different. My seatmate, a young photographer and surfer (yes, this cliche was the REAL DEAL!), was a certified card-carrying member of the "medicinal marijuana" club. OK, so clearly it's not a club - I don't have the lingo down just yet. He showed me the "pass" that he was prescribed for his case of TMJ, and I said, "Really. Really??! So you're saying that instead of wearing my fabulously chic mouthguard every night - I could just eat a brownie?" Who knew.
And of course there are other well-worn stereotypes here in Northern California. Everyone does seem to be exceptionally friendly, laid back and service oriented. If you enter the local Save Mart Grocery, you better bring your poker face, because to look lost or perplexed, even for a moment, brings one or more employees ready to assist you to the proper aisle. Judging from recent experience, my standard look is lost and perplexed.
Yes, there are abundant dreadlocks, smart cars and food co-ops... as well as an equally visible contingency of bearded men in pick-up trucks, whose dogs likely vote Republican. I've found the local Officers of the Peace a little up-tight too. Jaywalking, for instance, is seriously frowned upon in Nevada City. More accurately, it is scowled upon with a look of crazy intimidation and total disgust. Oops.
So as I acclimate to my new surroundings, I begin to think about what's next... job, destination, vision and life plan. I'll start by looking back a little ways - because some of the best dreams are the ones that you've had forever. And I'll take it in small bites, as my dear friend suggests. Half of the fun is on the path... I promise to keep you posted along the way!
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