Motherlove

How does it feel?  You know that fluttery feeling you get when you have feelings for someone special?  Well, similarly there is a physical sensation that accompanies motherlove, but it isn’t the fluttery sick feeling of that kind of love.  It’s more like the pressure of piano keys playing classical compositions in your center as the weight of your sleeping baby rises and falls with your breath.   It’s difficult to compare the feeling of mother-love to anything else because it truly is a unique sensation.

One of the most amazing things about mammahood for me so far is the continual wonderment I feel when I realize that my mother felt/feels the same way for me as I do for Hazel.  Of course she’s pretty wild about Hazel as well.  Most people know their mothers love them, but unless you actually take on that mother role for another child, it is pretty impossible to really understand what that means in the fullest sense.

I look at snugly little Hazel and I think thank God I have a good amount of time before she grows up and her little girl love for mamma moves to the back of her consciousness to make room for that other kind of love  that eventually might lead her back to the experience of mamma love for her own child.  A dizzying circle of love.

But while mothers are destined to see their children grow up and move out and become independent, no longer needing their mothers and for a time may even resent their mothers, mothers never grow up and out of their love for their children, do they?  So how will I survive that distancing when it comes, many years from now?  Perhaps I’ll have to ask my own mother about that…  Maybe the answer is to hope for grandchildren, because I do admit that having Hazel in my life has opened my eyes to the deep qualities of mother love and fished out of the deep recesses of my consciousness the link to that intimate loving quality my own mother and I shared when I was a wee tot.   However, grandchildren can’t  be the only answer and so I will also imbed this mantra into my being to help me through any rough times ahead:  Only love is real.  Only love is real….

At It Again..

I’ll never forget my first acupuncture appointment.  My acupuncturist asked me to stick out my tongue and then she asked me if I had very vivid dreams.  “Yes, how can you tell that from my tongue?”  was my natural question.  Apparently, if you have a deep groove down the center of your tongue, you most likely experience vivid dreams.  Well, they say that about pregnancy too; so naturally, I’m getting a double dose right now of the stuff that dreams are made of.

Here’s a brief summary of the past three nights’ escapades:  A musical all about Abraham Lincoln, a cardboard-cutout fairytale puppet musical and a political rap.  I actually awoke with a few verses of the political rap still running through my noggin, so I wrote it down and did my best to fill in the blanks for the rest of it.  Following is the result:

Political Rapping While Napping

And oh, boo-hoo, boo-hoo

what are we gunna do

when our basic necessities of life

are about to get cut with some Senator’s knife

all in the name of living within one’s means

while someone’s wallet over there is busting at the seams

And the seams, the seams, the seams of our dreams

Ripped open by conniving schemes

Unfunded wars and overfunded whores

And who do they blame when the wolf’s at the door?

Tell me no more, we all know the score

Blame the teachers and blame the youth

While the ice tinkles in glasses of vermouth

And oh, boo-hoo, boo-hoo

What are we gunna do

When who’s behind it all but you-know-who

I hear them whisper behind their hands

The anti-christ is that black man

Everyone knows the true color of their hearts

Is as black as night is dark

And though their bible thumping makes quite a stir

They’re no more Christian than the pharacies were

it’s so transparent, why don’t we all see?

is it because of those damn hypnotizing t.v.’s?

kill those mechanical hypnotizers

turning us all into fearful self-despisers

the worse it gets, the better for all

it’s time for a complete overhaul

gotta tear down the old to make way for the new

rip up the pavement where forests once grew

Chaos and anarchy-  just a bunch of bilarchy

The image of marauding gangs

No more real than vampire fangs

Trust your heart or trust your fear

One path full of love, and one of tears

We’ve got quite the mess to clean

It’s rather grotesque and even obscene

But lets follow Ghandi and clean out our own latrines

That’s what I call living within our own means

And how do we avoid a nuclear fate?

With so much at stake, shouldn’t we all be a little more irate?

If we don’t get our shit together,

We could all be no more forever

time to rely on each other instead of the man

pick up an instrument and join in the band

spread the love as fast as we can

speak with our hearts and act with our hands

The Culmination of the First Chrysalsis Sisters Program

I have a distinct memory of learning in my high school English class about the ways in which ancient cultures would mark the significance of passing from childhood into adulthood through vision quests and other initiations.  The teacher spoke of how these youth were sent on a vision quest, a time of solitude in the wilderness during which time they would gain a deeper understanding of their role as an adult and how to use their special gifts to help the people of the tribe.  Once they returned from the quest , they were welcomed as adults.

I remember reflecting on our culture’s lack of such acknowledgement and how I felt high school students were treated and therefor lived up to the standard of basically being over-sized children.  I remember feeling like we were really missing out on something.  I felt cheated.

Fast forward to the night of the solo overnight wilderness vigil that I hosted at my property as part of the culminating initiation the five young women would undergo to help lovingly usher them into womanhood.  As the mothers, myself, Vanessa and Beth encircled the young women before sending them off for their solo experiences, we shared stories of our coming of age and we each expressed how an even such as the one the young women were embarking upon was something we never had the opportunity to experience.  I could feel a swelling of joy that we were all working together to provide something we noticed missing in our own lives for this next generation.  We were proud of the young women for stepping up to the challenge of going through the initiation and we were proud of ourselves for bringing this opportunity to the young women.

I loved hearing the mothers express the feeling that menses is a gift to be enjoyed, not something to be loathed and ashamed of .  We spoke of the intuitive gifts that menses brings.  We closed the circle with blessings and gifts.  The young women then moved silently towards their quest spots and the mothers silently slipped away to be rejoined with their daughters the following day at the initiation ceremony.

Before they entered their self-created medicine wheels, the young women smudged themselves with sage and I read them the following poem by Mary Oliver:

Sleeping in the Forest

I thought the earth remembered me,

she took me back so tenderly,

arranging her dark skirts, her pockets

full of lichens and seeds.

I slept as never before, a stone on the river bed,

nothing between me and the white fire of the stars

but my thoughts, and they floated light as moths

among the branches of the perfect trees.

All night I heard the small kingdoms

breathing around me, the insects,

and the birds who do their work in the darkness.

All night I rose and fell, as if in water,

grappling with a luminous doom. By morning

I had vanished at least a dozen times

into something better.

from Sleeping In The Forest by Mary Oliver

© Mary Oliver

I returned to my house and tossed and turned all night.  I just couldn’t sleep as my spirit kept journeying out to watch over the young women as they faced the challenge of being alone in the wilderness overnight.  Daybreak finally came and five stoic young women returned from the forest.  They spoke of the singing of the frogs and owls and the timelessness they experienced.  One young woman even had a beaver walk through her site.

We had breakfast and headed over to the River Farm where the young women participated in a totem sculpting workshop, a story-telling workshop and a sacred dance workshop before the final initiation ceremony where family and friends gathered to witness the young women mark their entrance into adulthood.  They were crowned with cedar head wreathes, blessed, presented with their totems and given the opportunity to introduce themselves and speak their individually crafted oaths.  This was all followed with feasting and music.  There was a collective feeling of satisfied accomplishment.  The young women returned to their families and to society with a new found purpose and perspective.  I felt like shouting, “See!  We can do it!  We can change our culture!  We can make it anything we want it to be!”  It was a wonderful feeling to say the least.

The Spring of Life

It has been several months since my last posting.  My excuse?  Well, way back in January I woke up on my birthday.  Jake rolled over and in sleepy slurs related a dream he had just had that he was caring around our baby daughter.  At that I scurried out of bed and went and peed on a little stick that showed a tiny plus sign that carried more meaning than any other plus sign I’ve ever seen.   What a wonderful birthday present!  And the due date is very near Jake’s birthday.  I love it when life falls together so poignantly.

So needless to say, I’ve been a bit too distracted to concentrate on writing, but am finally feeling back in the writing mood once more.  Therefore, I would love to relate a little story about when I visited the Redwoods the first week of April.  I’ve been dying to tell this story and the moment finally feels right.

I took a road trip down to visit the beloved Redwood forest of Jedediah Smith National Park with my very good friend Jayne and her two year old son, Matthew.  On one of the days I decided to take a solo journey into the woods to connect with the trees more intimately.  I pulled off the road at a spot that called to me and began to explore a bit.  I was feeling drawn to journey down into a steep ravine.  The going was steep and a bit precarious.  There were a tremendous amount of enormous fallen chunks of rotting ruddy wood to scramble over and under.  Finally, I reached the bottom of the ravine and found a little spring that weaved above and below the narrow floor of the ravine.  Once at the bottom I sat down to take it all in.  I meditated for awhile and tried to imprint the mysterious spot in my memory as best as I could.  Finally, I arose and traversed the steep hillside back to the car.

I drove on to the next spot that called out to me.  I began meandering through the trees until I found one that seemed to call out to me.  It even seemed to have a friendly face shadowed into its bark.  I made my through the towering ferns that were almost as tall as me.  When I reached the tree I leaned into it, hugging it while resting my forehead against its mossy trunk.  I immediately felt a warm and loving presence embrace me back.  I heard the tree say something to the effect of, “Don’t worry, everything is going exactly as it should.  All is well.”

My immediate thought was: that’s good to hear, but I wasn’t really worried.

Then I heard the tree say, “Anytime you have any questions, or just need to feel rejuvenated, you can always go inward into your own inner ravine and find your own inner spring, and drink from it.

My next thought was: Hmm, I’ve definitely heard that before, but the truth is that no matter how many times I try to replenish my self from my “inner spring”  I still feel like most of my life is often fairly stuck in the dull drums.  I get fed up with the routine of working life and I find that  life is not as vivid as I feel it should be. (These are fairly guilty thoughts as I know that I live a very blessed existence.)

Then I felt the tree challenge me saying, “Well, why don’t you try it right now?”

So I sat down with my back against the tree trunk and closed my eyes.  I began imagining going deep inside my self to find the so called spring, but doubts kept blocking the way.  My thoughts told me things like: Oh, the tree isn’t really talking to you, you’re just making this all up to make yourself feel good.  My negative thoughts went on and on.  But then suddenly I heard a voice break through the barrage of doubts.  It said, “Remember today when you were climbing down into that ravine and there were lots of obstacles blocking your way?  Traversing your own inner ravine is filled with obstacles as well.  These thoughts you are having are your obstacles.  Just keep going and find your way around them.

Wow!  Now that felt like a revelation.  So I kept going and after a bit of time passed I felt something shift.  I felt light and tingly.  I opened my eyes and the world surged in with colors more vivid than before.  I felt something drop away and I realized that I had been “worried” or overly concerned about things happening the way they are supposed to and things falling into place, even though I didn’t realize that I was carrying those concerns.  But once they dropped away, there was nothing blocking me from the pure experience of the present.  I thanked the tree with all my being and felt myself dissolve into the ecstatic flow of the forest.  The wind swirled down from above and a rogue hail shower let loose a musical crescendo.

And life has never been quite the same since.  May you all drink well from your inner spring often!

I have more experiences to tell of, including the incredible culmination of the Chrysalis Sisters, but I think this is enough for tonight.  Sweet dreams.

Chrysalis Sisters First Full Moon Walk

mothers and daughters of the Chrysalsis Sisters bathing in moonlight and waterfall mist

My heart is so full!  Sharing the full moon with the Chrysalis Sisters filled it right up to overflowing!  We walked through Whatcom Falls Park with the moonlight as our only light.  It didn’t take long for our eyes to adjust to the darkened forest.  It felt so appropriate to speak of the secrets and wonders of life while following the gushing stream that sparkled and swirled  in the moonlight.  We stood silently for several minutes as we soaked up the heady energy of the moon and the vibrant energy of the rushing water.  We then spoke about our experiences of this subtle energy flow.  It was an exhilarating sensation!

This month’s medicine walk was dedicated to the Highbush Cranberry, a shrub with wonderful properties for women.  Its bark is known as cramp bark as it is a powerful uterine sedative.  Tea made from this bark effectively cures painful menstrual cramps in minutes and can even prevent early miscarriages.  Goodbye Midol and its long list of possible side effects:  ringing in the ears, heartburn, diarrhea, constipation, bloating, gas, dizziness, headaches, nervousness and blurred vision.  Cramp bark is safe, natural and extremely effective.  You can purchase it at any botanical store, or better yet, you can plant some of these lovely shrubs in your own yard.  The berries are quite attractive and can be cooked into a sauce very similar to cranberry sauce – though they aren’t true cranberries.  I only wish I had known about cramp bark earlier.  It gave me great satisfaction to pass on this knowledge to the girls.  Leslie Williams of Wildroot Botanicals generously donated sample baggies of cramp bark for each girl.  The girls were particularly pleased to learn about this wonder as they related that they are not permitted to take any kind of pain killer while at school.

At the end of the walk the girls’ loving mothers met us on the stone bridge that crosses the waterfall.  Together we shared cups of hot licorice spice tea and stories before saying goodnight.  It was a magical evening.

Dictionary Lore

Try this:

• Pick up a dictionary.
• Ask a question.
• Close your eyes.
• Open the dictionary at random.
• Keeping your eyes closed, run your fingers up and down the page.
• When you feel that your finger has landed on the correct word, open your eyes and read.

For example, I’m asking the dictionary right now, what is the purpose of the dictionary game?  And the answer I blindly placed my finger on is:

in-dic-a-tive adj. serving to indicate

I promise on all that is dear to me that I didn’t make that up.  Isn’t that weird???

You too may be shocked and surprised at how well the words answer your questions.  I have been playing the dictionary game for several years and it has lead me on a rollicking journey into the nature of intuition.  I’ve come to believe that intuition usually speaks most clearly through the body.  When my finger is over the right word, my body speaks up and my fingers sense something a little different.  For me, it’s usually warmth.

There are many ways to make contact with your intuition through your body.  For example, a friend of mine told me about her process when out in the wilderness of deciding which direction to go.  She extends her hands out, palms up, and if one of her hands feels heavier, she will turn that direction.  If neither feels heavy, she will continue walking straight.  She told story after story of amazing wildlife encounters she enjoyed through the use of this method.  I decided to try it out as well when I was camping.  I woke up early and headed out on a trail.  There were several side trails leading off of the main trail.  Each time I came to a trail I would extend my hands and feel for which way to go.  I passed several trails without feeling the urge to diverge from the main trail until I came to one in which my left hand felt heavier.  I then followed the trail to the left.  It lead me to a bluff that overlooked a tidal plain.  I sat down to enjoy the view for a few moments.  I wasn’t sitting for very long when I suddenly heard rustling just below me at the bottom of the bluff.  I looked down and watched wide-eyed as a coyote emerge from the tall grass just below me.  It walked out into plain view and seemed to sense me, though it took a while for it to discover me at which point it trotted off and away.  I was amazed and joyful.  I began employing this method whenever I was unsure of which route to take or direction to travel.

I recently discovered another way to tap into this kind of body wisdom.  Now, whenever I have a decision to make, I open my palms and touch the center of each palm while visualizing putting a different option in each palm.  I then weigh my options.  Whichever feels heavier, I choose.  I have had amazing success using this method as well.  However, it is good to keep in mind that our own logical mind can influence things so it sometimes helps to have someone else touch your palms for you without telling you which option they put in which hand.  I often have my husband do this for me when I’m afraid of tainting the results with my preferences.

It’s an amazing world out there with plenty of mystery and secrets to delight in and play with.  Just ask the dictionary…

I think Pablo Neruda knew a secret or two about the dictionary as well.  This poem of his knocks my socks off every time:

Ode to the Dictionary

Back like an ox, beast of
burden, orderly
thick book:
as a youth
I ignored you,
wrapped in my smugness,
I thought I knew it all,
and as puffed up as a
melancholy toad
I proclaimed: “I receive
my words
in a loud, clear voice
directly from Mt. Sinai.
I shall convert
forms to alchemy.
I am the Magus”
The Great Magus said nothing.
The Dictionary,
old and heavy in its scruffy
leather jacket
sat in silence,
its resources unrevealed
But one day,
after I’d used it
and abused it,
after
I’d called it
useless, an anachronistic camel,
when for months, without protest
it had served me as a chair
and a pillow,
it rebelled and planting its feet
firmly in my doorway,
expanded, shook its leaves
and nests,
and spread its foliage:
it was
a tree,
a natural,
bountiful
apple blossom, apple orchard, apple tree,
and words
glittered in its infinite branches,
opaque or sonorous,
fertile in the fronds of language,
charged with truth and sound.
I
turn
its
pages
caporal,
capote,
what a marvel
to pronounce these plosive
syllables,
and further on,
capsule
unfilled, awaiting ambrosia or oil
and others,
capsicum, caption, capture,
comparison, capricorn,
words
as slippery as smooth grapes,
words exploding in the light
like dormant seeds waiting
in the vaults of vocabulary,
alive again, and giving life:
once again the heart distills them.
Dictionary, you are not a
tomb, sepulcher, grave,
tumulus, mausoleum,
but guard and keeper,
hidden fire,
groves of rubies,
living eternity
of essence,
depository of language.
How wonderful
to read in your columns
ancestral
words,
the severe and
long-forgotten
maxim,
daughter of Spain,
petrified
as a plow blade,
as limited in use
as an antiquated tool,
but preserved
in the precise beauty and
immutability of a medallion.
Or another
word
we find hiding
between the lines
that suddenly seems
as delicious and smooth on the tongue
as an almond
or tender as a fig.
Dictionary, let one hand
of your thousand hands, one
of your thousand emeralds,
a
single
drop
of your virginal springs,
one grain
from
your
magnanimous granaries,
fall
at the perfect moment
upon my lips,
onto the tip of my pen,
into my inkwell.
From the depths of your
dense and reverberating jungle
grant me,
at the moment it is needed,
a single birdsong, the luxury
of one bee,
one splinter
of your ancient wood perfumed
by an eternity of jasmine,
one
syllable,
one tremor, one sound,
one seed:
I am of the earth and with words I sing

Good Vibes + Food + Placebo Effect = Rad Science(ish) Experiment

Think about a time when you were surrounded by good happy vibes.  Maybe you were enjoying a folked-out sing-a-long around a bonfire, or just laughing with some good friends.  Whatever the situation and for whatever reason, you were really feeling it.  Okay, now imagine that in the middle of this joy inducing experience, someone is cooking something.  Maybe there’s a large pot of stew simmering over the bon-fire.  My hypothesis is that the good vibes would be absorbed into the food.  I imagine a lump of bread dough rising in an environment of singing and laughing and I see the tiny yeast organisms getting puffed up with vibes making one happy loaf of bread.  I hypothesize that when this bread or stew is consumed later, the consumer will find themselves to be wonderfully uplifted.

Now, rather than making this a blind experiment with a control and all that, I am thinking I’d rather take advantage of the highly under-appreciated and under-utilized Placebo Effect.  Rather than attempt to test out the Placebo Effect, wouldn’t it be more fun to try and enhance it?  In other words, let it be known:  This food has been spiked with good vibes.

And so it shall be.  The perfect opportunity for such an experiment has arisen.  Tomorrow we’re going to the Cody Rivers Show- a ridiculously funny duo.  And when I say we, I mean me, my husband and 11 of our closest friends.  I am smiling just thinking about it.  Needless to say, I think the chances are pretty high that there will be some good vibrations zinging around the theater that evening. I’m going to capture some of these vibes in a tin of cocoa powder.  Then later I’ll make some brownies to hand out for Christmastime out of the “special” cocoa.  I just hope something doesn’t go horribly wrong, like the theater catches fire, or my seat mate has horrific gas, or both, one because of the other.

Here’s to enhancing our life experiences through “science”.

The Evolution of the Chrysalis Sisters

It is amazing how a vision can take on a life of its own.  When Ayuravedic practitioner, Laura Ann Smith, and director of Rooted Emerging, Vanessa Osage and I first got together to discuss the visions we held in our hearts to reach out to the young women who are coming of age we were all instantly pleased at how well our different ideas complemented each other and how effortlessly the ideas flowed together.  As the energy built, like a sprout exposed to the light of Spring, our dream began to grow.

We soon realized that our original plan to offer the program at no charge would cut our dream short.  It would force us to skimp where our hearts wanted to splurge.  Rather than short change our vision, we decided to offer the program at an affordable rate that would also allow us to put a foundation under the castle in the sky that we had created for the young women of our community.  We also intend to raise money for a scholarship fund through fundraisers and donations.

My compatriots and I spent hours upon hours fine tuning the details.  As we spent so much time together I gained a keen appreciation for the gifts they have to impart.  Just being in the presence of these women is like sitting in a sunny field of flowers.  Laura is a gifted healer and her kind smile has a healing effect of its own.  Vanessa is also a woman filled with skookum.  She stands fully in her power which she gracefully channels into her life calling:  supporting and guiding others through times of transition.    I feel humbled and honored to be collaborating with these women on such an important project.

If you would like to view the full details of our program, please visit http://www.freerangeschool.org/workshops/

Chrysalis Sisters

A Chrysalis is a butterfly cocoon.  The Chrysalis Sisters is a program I am developing with two other women who are passionate about building up the young women of our community who will be emerging into adulthood over the next few years.  The idea is to pour some love into these young women, give them the gift of knowledge of helpful plant medicines and mentor them regarding how to be loving to their minds, bodies and souls.  So far, at no cost, we are going to offer body-blessings in the form of ayurvedic massage with essential oils, full moon walks filled with surprises such as coming upon a prepared bonfire with hot cider waiting with loving mothers and sisters, art, herbal and story workshops and a Spring-time coming of age ceremony.  If you have any ideas you would like to add, I invite and welcome you to leave your ideas in the comment section.

When a butterfly is going through metamorphosis it is in a rather delicate state.  The same can be said for young men and women who are being bombarded with hormones.  In a more organic society, young people would be more integrated with the adult population and be more continually surrounded by appropriate role models.  As it is, Junior High can be seen as a sort of hormonal concentration day camp. I agree with Scott Noelle, and many others who emphasize our need to do whatever we can to create a sense of tribe within this society of artificial environments that are mainly antisocial by design.  For example, I was recently walking through a nice neighborhood in Bellingham with my good friend when I realized I was quite thirsty.  It suddenly struck me that I was surrounded by many houses that could provide me with a glass of water if I had the guts to knock on their door and just ask.  But who does that?  It is way past the comfort zone for most people and may be seen as invasive and just plain weird to cross that imaginary boundary.

Well, I’m ready to start breaking down these imaginary boundaries and I would like to start by reaching out to my little sisters who may be getting lost in the shuffle.  Lets tip the pitcher of our hearts and pour some love into the next generation.

The Magical Mystery Tour

I am driving up the 101 as my husband snoozes in the seat next to me and our good friend (who owns the car I’m driving) reads a magazine in back.  As I cruise into the small, mysterious seaside town of Bandon, OR my heart is breaking a little.  I love this town, but we don’t have time to stop.  We must get back to our jobs, back to reality.

This road trip has been more than a little surreal.  Perhaps beginning with an all-night drive through the whole of Washington State and seeing the sun come up with a full moon still shining in the sky in Grants Pass, OR.  As we traveled onward, we were enveloped in a white fog.  We stopped briefly to check out some neat Red Wood sculptures and frolic in a U-Pick flower field awash in early morning fog.  Then it was on into the deeply magical Red Wood forest where we stopped for a tick to tuck into the trees for a peek.  And WHAT THE $#@*!  I almost made a rest-stop in my pants when I saw this giant white creature curled up in the forest.  At first I swore it was none other than a Donnie Darko giant white rabbit.  Upon closer inspection it revealed itself to be a snowy white mountain goat.  A very dead one.  I didn’t know mountain goats roamed the Red Wood forests of Northern California.  Oh the mysteries I’ll never have explained.  Or will I?

Next on the agenda was a quick stop at a bakery in Crescent City, CA.  About four other friends and my husband and I spent one weird New Years Eve in Crescent City several years back and the town has never been the same for me since.  Well, the bakery was hopping and as we waited for our sandwiches to be made we enjoyed an impromptu dance party in the small delicious smelling parlor.

Next stop was Garbarville and what a scene this small town had in store for us.  On one side of the street some fellow tree lovers were touting signs to save the sacred forests.  On another side of the street some alternative style street kids were chilling on the corner with a cat clad in similar attire.  A farmers market was set up across the street from an angry fellow yelling “Butt-Hole!” at the top of his lungs to the tree warriors.  Wow!  That’s all we could say as I tossed the rest of my U-pick bouquet at the feet of the tree people and headed on our way.

From there on out it was mostly just driving driving driving in hopes of getting to the Sean Hayes show in Petaluma in time.  I got seriously car sick and when we stopped in Laytonville- home of the Herbal Women’s Symposium- a woman asked me if I was car sick.  Perhaps she was intuitive and perhaps my face was green.  In either case, she was a Godsend for she showed me an acupressure spot to press on my wrist which helped quite a bit.

The next thing we knew we were driving through the vineyards and into Petaluma where we enjoyed some excellent beer and an amazing show by one of our very favorite performers, Sean Hayes.  I rocked my skate shoes on the dance floor and a good time was had by all.  Afterward, we set up a tent behind an old abandoned school house and the moon was like the sun and an owl serenaded us all night.  We were awoken early by a delivery truck that dropped off several bags of ice, next came another truck with beverages.  We packed up and got out of there, apparently a wedding was scheduled to place in that spot and we were not invited.

And so we continued up Highway 1 and stopped at Fort Ross for a tour and beach picnic.  A wonderful place to enjoy the California Coast and get a quick dunk in some interesting history.  The Fort is actually an old Russian fort that housed a Russian Commander, his princess and the soldiers of course.  We slept that night in the Red Wood forests and headed out bright and early the next day.  And that brings us back to the moment this story began:  I am driving into Bandon, OR, feeling heartsick when suddenly- dun dun dunnnnn- the car breaks down.

It is a very unique feeling to be stranded.  We all had jobs to get back to and none of us relished the idea of calling our places of employment with the news.  I mean, how suspicious does it sound that we just happened to break down while out on a three day weekend adventure?  But none the less, that is what happened and there was really nothing we could do about it.

Bandon, OR is known for being somewhat paranormal.  It is touted as being on the intersection of “Ley Lines”- magnetic currents of energy that intersect at places of power, similar to the meridians in our bodies that acupuncturists like to poke.  Well, perhaps Bandon heard the sighing of my heart and deemed it necessary to keep a hold of us for a couple of extra days.  The weather couldn’t have been nicer.  Everyone we met informed us that these were the nicest days they’d seen all year, and here it was, September 26th.  It was warm enough that I even got to do some body surfing in the sparkling Pacific and the blueberries were everywhere!  Our lay-over was complete when the alternator was replaced on Tuesday and we traveled home without any further incidents.  I just love the unexpected adventures that always seem to take you by surprise while you are traveling.  I won’t soon forget this epic Sojourn into some of America’s most intriguing places.