Geese taking over the campground parking lot. They were here first!
Just after Labor Day these geese showed up at the park as a pack of four. They went from site to site, up the hills, down the hills, and through the parking lot, oblivious of cars or bikes or children. There were other geese in the park, but they stayed in the lake, floating around and flying away at night to some warmer place. These guys wandered around interacting with people, mostly being tolerated, but sometimes getting cursed at and shooed away.
We heard from one of the park rangers that their mother was killed earlier this year, so they never learned how to be geese. You could tell it in their eyes. they looked lost. They seemed to beg with little squaking noises. We gave them some old granola, which they gobbled up in just a few minutes. Then they parked themselves in the middle of the street for the rest of the night and waited for us every day after that. I hope someone else takes over for us….
Deer everywhere!
First Contact
Sitting in my car, exhausted from the cross-country trip, wondering how I ended up here, crying my eyes out, and up comes this little one. We stared at each other for several minutes. She seemed to understand my discombobulation. Her calm, yet intense gaze brought me back to myself. If she can do this, why can’t I?
Down by the Lake
</a I caught this little guy drinking from the lake one early morning. He and his buddy were up to their knees in the water. Then they saw me and my camera.
With a bit of an attitude, the big one trotted off toward the other side of the lake. He seemed irritated at me for interrupting his peaceful drink.
The younger one made a pit stop. He didn’t care about my camera at all. He knew what he wanted, a little grease to wash down his lake water.
Fawn Taking a Break from Eating
Early mornings and just before dusk is the time to capture these animals taking advantage of their environment. They don’t mind us looking, or taking a picture, or even getting a little closer than usual. But, no petting, please.
Two “Big Guys” Practicing for the Future
We saw these two early this morning right across the street. They weren’t bothered by us at all.
Welcome, Deer! And, Farewell.
On one of our last trips through the campground gate we met this deer waiting for us as if to welcome us in one more time, or maybe, to say goodbye. She continued eating and looking around so I could get my phone camera to work properly. Then she trotted off into the brush, no doubt to find her family and carry on with her life.
I’m sure we will have pleasant memories of these peaceful neighbors. Even though they ate every single tomatoe that we tried to grow–well, all but one. It has been a real treat living so close to them and sharing their space.
Smoke but no fire.
This is as bad as it got here. We’ve had fires burning all around us for the whole month of August, and there were days we wondered if we’d have to pick up all of our camping paraphernalia and head west. So far, that has not happened and we’ve only had blue skies for the last week. Nature sure can be testy sometimes!
Out of the smoke, into the fog
Aug. 8, 2013
Back to the present moment….(two weeks ago, that is) Right now we are in Florence, OR, on our way to Brookings, OR to get ready for a yard sale on Saturday. We’ve been checking out campgrounds on the Oregon Coast, which is absolutely gorgeous, even with the perpetual fog and mist. The scenery is magical, light clouds floating across the road in between the trees and up the hills only to drip, drip, drip, unnoticed back down the hills into the churning ocean below. The Pacific Coast Highway is windy and breathtaking, with shear drops on one side and craggy rocks on the other.
Redwoods and cedar and spruce trees crowd each other out, while rhododendrons, wild foxgloves and irises push up around their trunks. But, if there is a natural ground cover here, it is ferns. They are everywhere. Everywhere. Imagine it. Ferns everywhere. Magic. All I want to do is stop and take it all in, but the traffic won’t allow that. So we just keep on driving and sighing. I snapped a few pictures out the RV window, but they will never do justice to the real thing. Nature’s magic must be experienced personally.
New wrinkles
Finally. I have reliable internet access…at least I think I do. So, I thought I’d try to figure out some of the finer points of this wordpress blog program, like how to post photos without all the gobbledy-gook codes on top of them, or how to attach video or simply how to save my work for later. Not so easy, even with internet. I need a blog tutor, if there is such a thing. No doubt, my nieces and nephews, and probably even my daughters would know how to navigate this crazy mixed up world.
But I’ll keep trying. It’s helping me keep my brain active, and that must be worth something. My mom used to say when you learn something new you get another wrinkle in your brain. Well, Sam and I joked that our brains must be pretty shriveled up and wrinkly by now since we’re always learning new things, whether we want to or not. When exactly does your brain run out of space for new wrinkles anyway?
Walking
There is something to be said for the simple act of walking. We were built to walk. It comes naturally for most of us. Walking can easily become deep meditation if you just let yourself get quiet and pay attention to what is going on around you. No destinations, no goals, just one foot in front of the other until your legs (or your dogs) tell you they’re ready to go back.
It’s hilly here, and flat surfaces are rare, so when we go out to walk we wear good shoes and prepare to use our big leg and gluteal muscles. There’s nothing like walking to build up your legs, and your “sitting cushions.” And once your walking muscles are strong, your back and belly follow, not to mention your whole cardiovascular system. Over time walking can be the best exercise for most of us. I have taught aerobics as well as yoga and tai chi, and used to ride my bike as a primary form of transportation when I was in my 20’s. All of these activities are good for strength and endurance. But walking doesn’t feel like exercise to me. It just feels like I’m doing what I should be doing. The fitness comes as a bonus.
The simple act of walking outside can change your mood as well as your body. Got a problem? Take a walk. You’ll forget about the problem, then you’ll come up with a different way of looking at it. And you don’t even have to give it much thought. It’s like walking, and the necessary breathing that goes with it, cleans out your lungs and your veins, and opens up the space in your head so you can see more clearly.
“I’ll have a Belgian waffle, please.”
Laughing till the end
June 16, 2013
In the same room as us and the biker club sat an older couple. They were just behind Sam, so I could see them pretty clearly. They hobbled in with their canes and crooked backs and sat down across from each other like they had done many times before I’m sure. The man was thin enough to need suspenders to hold up his pants and I noticed that his hair hadn’t been brushed yet today. He had about five cowlicks in various places, but he didn’t seem to care, so why should I? He had more trouble getting into his chair than his wife did so I assumed he was a bit older, or at least more tired.
I looked at her and immediately noticed her severely rounded back through her pink blouse. She had obviously dressed up for this excursion. The roundedness of her upper back reminded me of a basketball. But, like her husband and his cowlicks, she didn’t seem to care. It was part of her life and she had adjusted, for better or worse. I thought about her chest and how crowded it must be having to stay sunken in all the time. I remembered one of my mantras as a yoga teacher, “Open your chest and you will open your heart.” I wondered if she had a closed heart. Then I looked at her face. It was bright and alive with curiosity and personality. She watched her husband with eagle eyes as if waiting for him to fall face first onto the table. When it was apparent that he was going to follow through with this breakfast adventure, she started to study her menu.
“Belgian waffles? Wow! I haven’t had BELGIAN WAFFLES, for a really long time,” she yelled across the table. The room was noisy so she said it again. Her husband kept fumbling with his menu and didn’t respond.
“I’M GONNA HAVE BELGIAN WAFFLES, OK?” This time she yelled loud enough for him to hear.
“Ok. Hon…Where are the Belgian waffles anyway?”
“Right under your thumb,” she said, looking at him with those glaring eyes. “Right under your thumb.”
He moved his thumb, looked, and couldn’t find it. “Where?”
“Under your thumb!”
“I don’t see it.”
“IT’S UNDER YOUR THUMB!!” She yelled, climbing across the table and yanking the menu out of his hands. Then she put her thumb on top of the Belgian waffles and put his thumb under her thumb and gave the menu back to him. “RIGHT THERE! UNDER YOUR THUMB!!”
By that time the waitress had come to their table. “I want the BELGIAN WAFFLES,” she told the waitress. Her husband agreed and said that’s what he wanted too. But he said it much more quietly.
“Any fruit or whipped cream?” asked the waitress.
“No, just the BELGIAN WAFFLES,” said the woman. Her husband agreed.
When the waitress left they talked excitedly about how long it had been since they had BELGIAN WAFFLES and that story led them into another story and then another until I lost track of what they were talking about. But they stayed focused on each other and never stopped talking. I noticed that she stared at him quite intensely, as if still waiting for him to keel over. But he didn’t. It was all very matter of fact, like she was just waiting…nothing else.
As my inner story teller kicked in, I decided that they had been together since they were in their early twenties, had children, grandchildren, great grandchildren, lived on a farm, tended all kinds of crops and animals and spent their evenings watching tv and reading the newspapers. I decided that she was the dominant one now, but he used to be the real boss. Then his body started falling apart and he lost his mind somewhere and let her take control. Now they fought and made up like ten year old boys on a daily basis. I decided that they would be together till one of them died, then the other one would die soon afterwards. I decided that they did love each other, but that they were really just comfortable with each other and that was more important than anything else when you’re pushing 90. I decided that she did have a good heart; it was just getting old and compressed like the rest of her. I took their picture to remind me that love means more than being in love. It means watching each other grow old and grumpy and blind and forgetful. And it means never giving up until you take your last breath.
While we were talking to the baby boomer bikers at the next table, the waitress brought their waffles out. They smeared the waffles with butter, slathered syrup all over them, and ate like children having BELGIAN WAFFLES for the first time in their lives. I hope I live long enough to care about Belgian waffles as much as they did.
A room full of bikers
June 16, 2013
The day we left Mt. Shasta we ate at a “famous” local restaurant called Black Bear Diner. The food is good, usually fresh and in substantial portions. The place is filled with bears of course, and there is a sense of wilderness both inside and outside. This particular restaurant has been there since 1972, not so long in my book, but long enough for it to be considered a landmark.
We sat in a room that was filled with bikers, not bicyclers, but bikers. They seemed loud and somewhat obnoxious at first. They filled up the room with their noise and physical bulk. I noticed that most of them were wearing bright green t-shirts, and their leather vests and jackets were nowhere to be found. I thought that was odd but let it go as just another one of my unconscious judgments. Once we squeezed by them and sat down, I saw Sam looking at them and smiling a lot. So I looked too.
Instead of big, burly, mean Hell’s Angels types, I saw big, chunky softies with scruffly beards and Vietnam Veteran’s hats on, a few with walking sticks leaning on the table beside them. These were baby boomers having a ball. The women were mostly quiet with short hair and patient expressions on their faces. The men were big boys in bright green t-shirts. This group of about ten is a club called the Lassen Riders, and they go for a “run” several times a year. Sam asked them if he could take their picture. Most of them said yes and proceeded to pose for a second between bites of eggs and bacon. The women seemed a less inclined to become part of our travel story, but obliged us anyway.
Boomer Bikers
I noticed that the guy who was closest to us seemed to be the leader, if there was one. At least he talked the most and the loudest. We started a conversation with him about traveling and he said he does this for his fellow veterans. He goes around to various places and gives deceased veterans a proper military burial. He almost teared up when he was describing this to us. He said he has lived a good life and feels committed to paying it forward.
I looked at the people surrounding that table. They all sat there like knights of King Arthur’s court, planning their next “run.” I could see that they were all kind and generous and nothing like my previous image of bikers. From what I can tell, today’s bikers are mostly old hippies, or old hippie wannabes. They don’t need guns and knives and a belly full of beer to make their point. The peace signs on their jackets work just fine.
Letting go of expectations, well, at least trying…
June 4, 2013
expect nothing. trust the path.
When I was training with YogaFit, we heard this mantra in almost every class, “Letting go of competition, judgment and expectations…” I could understand letting go of competition, and I could work on letting go of judgment, but expectations? I thought it was pretty strange to let go of expectations when you were attending a yoga class. Don’t people go to classes expecting something?
Recently I had the thought that expectations are sort of like hopes and dreams. They keep you motivated to move ahead and continue on whatever path you’re on. They give you a goal to work toward, and when that goal is inner peace, well, how can an expectation be harmful?
Then, last week, in the midst of some challenge or another, I heard that voice, “Letting go of competition, judgment and expectations…” and the word, “expectations” rang in my ears. In fact, it pierced through my ears straight into my brain like a bolt of lightening. I heard it loud and clear. I decided that it would be to my benefit to stop wanting what I didn’t have—more money, feet in the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans at the same time, a “real” house to call home, friends who want to travel with me or at least meet me somewhere, a better body, more money—all of that was causing me to suffer, a lot. Once I let go of expecting anything, I started to appreciate what was right in front of me. Again.
This lesson has presented itself to me over and over since I started practicing yoga and studying eastern philosophy. Here is the simple lesson: Be happy with what you have and you will be happy. Wish for more and you will always want more. It’s a good thing to learn when you’re 55 years old. I just hope I can continue letting go of expectations. It is a process, and I’m sure I’ll question it a few more times before it becomes part of me, but right now I feel more at peace. Sure I miss my family, east and west, and I miss my friends and I still want to sit by the Atlantic Ocean for about three months straight, and I will probably always want a better body and more money, but maybe not.
Maybe I’ve crossed over a line, or reached the top of the mountain, (finally) or the end of this chapter. Maybe the rest of my life will be more present-oriented. I think I may have camping to thank for that. There’s nothing that brings you into the present moment more than waking up with the first rays of sunlight, or hearing the first birdsong of the day, or listening to the stories of your 80-something year old neighbors, or watching a group children running toward the lake squealing with delight. I think I’m going to like this chapter. But I’ll try not to expect anything. I’ll just experience it and appreciate it, whatever “it” is.
Thanks YogaFit for this simple lesson.
Bridging east and west
June 4, 2013
In several conversations with campers this past week I mentioned that I have family on both coasts. Lots of people respond with the same story—met here, got married there, moved there, had children there, now going back and forth from one place to the next all year long. “And we love it!” Traveling is an addiction, especially when you have all the comforts of home with you.
Of course, wherever I am, I miss whoever is not there with me. And sometimes I even get homesick, though I’m not sure what that means any more. I feel certain that I am in a learning phase, or a growth spurt, or perhaps a midlife transition? Pulling up roots and moving from place to place has the effect of making you feel dizzy and discombobulated. Yet, when I wake up in the morning and take the dogs for their first walk of the day, I feel as grounded as I ever have. I feel like I belong, wherever I happen to be.
At home in the desert?
It occurs to me that I am on the verge of committing to this gypsy life simply because I love the adventure, and because I want to be with ALL of my loved ones. Although I would love to have a little cottage somewhere near a flat beach, something inside of me knows that I need to travel, both for the adventure and for the education it provides. Part of me is glad that my daughters are still in California and my family will most likely always be in Virginia, because it gives me a reason to keep on traveling.
So, Atlantic or Pacific? Well, after all, there is no real boundary in the ocean, just land in between.
on the road to simplicity 