The Big Why
I got together with a friend a few weeks ago who is also a coach. She was in town for an intense training to get more clarity about her own coaching practice. On the drive from the airport to the waterfront restaurant where we were having dinner, I asked her who she wanted to work with in her practice. Her answer was clear and succinct, but it sounded rehearsed.
And so I asked her WHY she wanted to work with these particular women.
Again, her answer was clear, but I still didn’t feel any real passion.
I asked her why SHE was the one to do this kind of work. And she shared how she had been one of those women who had tried to find joy and acceptance in things and experiences outside of herself, thinking that IF she had THIS degree or THAT house, then she would be happy.
“But really,” she said, “it’s not the piece of paper we want, it’s the feeling we have when we get the piece of paper. We have to find that joy and acceptance within ourselves.”
For the first time in the conversation, I could feel the fire in her words.
During dinner we talked about her past jobs, how she often gets bored when she isn’t challenged. And I asked her how she will keep herself excited and engaged with this new coaching practice.
She sat back and thought for a good few minutes and then said, “You know, the best job I ever had was with Outward Bound.” Her whole body came alive as she shared how much she loves being physical, doing anything outdoors, challenging herself to be independent, knowing she can take care of herself.
“My dream coaching practice would take women out into the wilderness and teach them self-reliance and independence.”
Finally, I felt her passion, her motivation, her energy.
Then she leaned back, deflated, “But it’s not practical. I don’t know how I would do it, logistically.”
“You don’t need to know that right now,” I said. “You just need to stay connected to this passion.”
So often we get stopped by the How, the When, the Where.
Life is not a journalism class. We don’t need to have a lead paragraph that answers the who, what, where, when and how.
We only need to know the WHY.
Our WHY is our passion.
Our WHY is our guiding light.
Our WHY keeps us moving forward when we hit a road block.
Our WHY is our heart, leading us to those other questions.
If we stay strongly connected to WHY we want to, WHY we need to do something, and let go of figuring out how and when and where, somehow, those other answers come to us.
I invited my friend to write about her experiences at Outward Bound as a means to re-connect with her passions. I even suggested she have a dialog with herself, writing the questions with her dominant hand and answering them with her other hand. This is a great tool for opening to unexpected responses.
When I checked in with her a few days later, she was still excited about wilderness coaching. She’d been on a few hikes along the coast, and was loving being in her body, exploring new places and she was beginning to see how it might all come together.
Again I reminded her that it’s not her job to focus on the HOW, but to keep nurturing the WHY and allow her heart to continue to guide her to the answers.
When you think about something you really want to do, do you know your WHY? Can you focus your energies on this, the heart of all things, and let go of knowing everything else right now? Can you imagine if you did?
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Claiming Your Brave
When’s the last time you did something brave?
Brave isn’t just for big things, like driving alone in Europe or going skydiving.
Brave could be painting your nails a new color. Or driving a new way to work. Brave could be saying NO to a party you really don’t want to go to.
Brave is doing anything that brings you to the edge of your comfort zone and you do it anyway.
And doing it makes you feel on top of the world, so full of yourself, like a red caped super hero.
And yet, too often, we don’t acknowledge the act, the risk, the courage we’ve had to muster to get there, to step up, to do it.
I’m making a conscious choice these days to do at least one brave thing every few days. And I’m keeping a WOW! I REALLY DID THAT! list. Some are big things. Others might seem so easy for another person to do. But for me, they require a lot of brave.
I’m using the list to acknowledge my courage and applaud myself for taking these beautifully brave steps.
Here’s a sampling from my WOW! I REALLY DID THAT! list:
- I invited a never-met-in-person-before Facebook friend to lunch
- I joined a meet-up group for singles over 50
- I took Laddy on a new adventure walk
- I got my hair cut by a new stylist
- I introduced myself to a neighbor
- I said yes to friends going clothes shopping with me
- I backed into my RV spot without assistance! (It only took three stop and checks, just to make sure I was pulling in straight)
- Oh yeah, I packed up my life in Arizona and moved to the beach!
Funny, each of these things may have scared the pants off of me, gotten my heart racing, and taken me way beyond what is comfortable and easy. But they also led me to something even more wonderful than comfort. They’ve led to an even bigger, fuller, richer me.
So what brave things have you done lately?
How did it feel?
And how did you celebrate?
What’s on your WOW! I REALLY DID THAT! list? Please share by clicking on the Comments below.
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The Joys and Challenges of Living In The Moment
I’ve been living in the RV for more than three months now, and have been here at the Bella Vista Mobile Lodge since mid-September. I am settling in. I wave to my neighbors and engage in conversations about the weather. The woman in the bakery section of Spencer’s Market and I are on a first name basis. And Mark, my neighbor across the street, even helped me when my new mattress arrived. I am calling this place home.
In some ways it is exactly what I imagined—clean air, cool breezes and much less stress. But in other ways it is nothing like my dreams. I don’t live in a house with a yard and a laundry room. I am not going to clients’ homes every day. I’m not even trying to build up a local Mac training clientele.
The other day as I was walking with Laddy, I noticed that one of the mobile homes is for rent. I peeked through the windows, looked around at the outdoor patio space and thought maybe a little more space might be nice. But when I put the numbers down on paper, I realized I wouldn’t be getting much more square footage, but I’d be paying almost twice as much. But what I would be getting is a permanent address.
Right now, I’m living here month to month. As we get closer to the holidays, I may need to move out of my space to accommodate people who have long-standing reservations. It’s not really an issue, since I have solar panels and can easily live without being plugged in and hooked up, as long as I can dump my tanks every five or six days.
But psychologically, it can sometimes be a challenge for me.
I thrive on schedules, plans and control. Living here, I’ve had to be flexible and loose, not knowing beyond the current month, whether or not I’d have a space to call home.
So far, I’m doing really well with it, embracing it, even, and seeing how living month to month really keeps me living in the present moment.
But when I think about long term, I get a little unsettled, because there is no guarantee that I’ll still be in space #50. And so I grasp at ways to have control. Certainty. Stability. And I think about renting that mobile home.
But as soon as I realize that it is fear that is fueling the idea, I’m able to let it go and breathe back into This. Here. Now.
I assure myself that I will never not have a place to park – I may just have to spend a few nights in the overflow area. I remind myself that being open and flexible actually feels fun. I realize that leaning into not knowing is not just about WHERE I am living, but about HOW I’m living.
This living month to month is a real gift. It’s an opportunity for me to embrace my freedom and flexibility and learn this new way of being in all aspects of my life. And I’m liking it. A lot. How could I not, when the view from here is so beautiful.
How do you balance the not knowing with the need to know? I’d love to hear your stories. Please click on the Comments below to share.
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How $15.00 Changed My Life!
When Marika was visiting, we bought a new shower head for the RV bathroom. After 18 years of using the original one, it was getting too hard to switch it on and off to conserve water while showering. And it was, admittedly, leaking a little bit beyond the actual holes.
O. M. G!
I can’t believe we waited so long. The new shower head has five settings and a much wider surface area, which means a more luxurious shower on many levels.
And it was only $15.00!
What were we thinking to not do this sooner??
This seems to be a common behavior with lots of people I know. We tend to settle for what is, what we already have because, hey, it’s working. So what if it’s harder to use, a little uncomfortable, maybe not even working 100%.
It’s easier to just keep on keeping on, status quo.
But this small investment has made my morning shower ritual a true delight!
So what one thing, one small thing could you upgrade or change or improve without much effort or cost? Like a shower head?
Can you imagine what this simple act might shift for you?
Share your own story below by clicking on the Comments.
Coming From That Place of Love
Sometimes our best work happens when we simply show up, open up and connect with our heart.
I am not a mother and I don’t, for a minute, pretend to understand what it must be like to have a child love you unconditionally, then challenge you, then love you, then hate you, constantly changing the rules of the relationship.
A client recently called in a panic. She was on her way to dinner with her daughter who wanted to talk more about her upcoming wedding plans. She was expecting a large wedding, fully funded by her parents, even though my client, recently divorced from the daughter’s father, was not in a position to pay.
Recent conversations between mother and daughter had been ugly, insensitive and undercutting, and my client was not looking forward to another battle.
“She brings out the worst in me,” my client said. “And she sounds just like her father, putting me down, even suggesting I get a second job to pay for this.” Through tears she said, “I don’t even like her right now.”
I asked her to breathe. For several minutes we sat together as she slowed her thoughts down and calmed herself. “Now breathe into your feet,” I suggested. “Feel yourself grounded, stable, supported, out of your emotions.” Her shoulders relaxed, her face softened.
“Imagine your daughter as a baby in your arms. How do you feel about her?”
“She used to be so cuddly and close and now she’s like a…” I stopped her, mid sentence.
“Close your eyes and feel her as a baby in your arms. How do you feel about her?”
This time she paused and moved into the vision and a smile broke across her face. “Oh my God, she’s everything to me. I just love her.”
She stayed with that vision for a few minutes and then I asked her to remember a time when her daughter was two or three, challenging her, because that’s what toddlers do. “How do you feel about her now?”
She took a moment to remember, then said, “I’m a little aggravated, but I know she’s just being her.”
“And do you love her?”
“Oh, of course. Absolutely,” she said, still smiling.
“This is what kids do,” I said. “They challenge you, they push your buttons, they try to get their own way. And no matter what, you love them.”
She smiled.
“So can you breathe that love down into your feet so that, during dinner, when she challenges you, you’ll remember that, no matter what, you love her?”
I watched as she pulled her breath deep into her body. “Oh my God,” she said. “This reminds me of a book I used to read to her when she was a kid, The Runaway Bunny. It’s about a bunny who tries to get away from his mother but she is always there for him. The baby bunny says, I’ll run away and be a bird, and the mother bunny says, then I will be a tree so you can perch on me.”
Her whole face lit up with recognition and understanding.
This time I smiled. “So can you remember this when she is pushing your buttons?”
“Yes, yes, of course. I’m the mother bunny.”
The next morning I received this email from my client. “Baby Bunny and I had a good dinner together. She actually started out by joking around. It was the first FUN conversation together in a very long time.
When the topic turned serious, wedding money and numbers, I uncrossed my legs and firmly planted my feet on the floor and took a deep breath, and then another. I pictured her in her striped shirt and sweet smile when she would run into my arms. And so, I filled my heart with love. I’m sure it showed in my eyes and softened gaze. She spoke vulnerably and without malice.
Thank you!”
How do you show up in challenging situations? How do you come from a place of unconditional love? Please share your own story by clicking on the Comments below.
Simplify Your Story
I’ve been living in my 24 foot RV since August 1st. Yet, when people asked me where I lived, I had a very long explanation:
“Right now I’m in my motorhome. I packed up my life in Arizona, thinking that I’d come here and stay in my RV while I looked for a house to rent. I found one, it was really cute, but I realized I didn’t want to just move my life from AZ to here. So I’m still living in my RV and I’m really enjoying the simple life and the freedom of living small. Right now I’m staying in a mobile home park in Cayucos, across the street from the beach.”
Not only is that too much information for a simple question, but the story is full of old news, uncertainty and even a little drama.
The real story, simplified, is “I live in my RV full-time. Right now I’m staying in a mobile home park in Cayucos, across the street from the beach.”
There is no drama, no complication, no unnecessary details to follow. The story is simple, clear and true. And the simplicity of the sentences reflect the simplicity of my life.
Entrepreneurs are told that they should be able to explain what they do in a twenty second ‘elevator speech’. Because that’s as much time as you have sometimes to get your message across. Being able to share your message in such a short amount of time helps you get clear, very clear about what you do and who you serve.
If you think about it, I’m sure there is a story that you tell, over and over again. You may even use the same words every time.
Ask yourself, first, is this story true.
Next, ask yourself, is this your current story or is this just the story you are used to telling.
And finally, consider what story really IS true?
How can you tell it so that it is simple and clear and a true reflection of who you are, how you are living and how you WANT to be living?
Please share YOUR new story by clicking on the Comments below
How Yoga is Like Pizza
When I posted on FaceBook that I was writing about how yoga is like pizza, several friends left me some very funny comments; “because even when it’s bad it’s good…because it’s stretchy…because you can bend it into interesting shapes.” One friend wrote, “I think I’d be saying Yummmmmmm instead of Ommmmmm.”
For me, the similarity is about the ingredients.
Whenever I’m trying a new pizza place, I order a simple cheese pizza. I may peruse the menu to see what other ingredients and combinations they serve, but my first pizza is always their most basic offering. This way I can focus on the foundation of any good pizza- the crust, the sauce and the cheese. If a cheese pizza isn’t good, there’s no point in adding extra toppings.
I’m using this same philosophy as I choose my new yoga studio. Now that I have a car, I’m checking out two different places that offer a variety of classes. There’s gentle yoga, yin yoga, morning yoga and yoga flow. But I chose to begin with a gentle/basic class last Friday morning.
Even though I’ve been practicing yoga for more than seven years, I chose this beginner’s class for the same reason that I choose a simple cheese pizza- so that I can focus on the soul of the studio. What does the teacher share as the basic foundations of a yoga practice? How does the staff interact with a new, beginning student? How do I feel in the space with my classmates?
For me, yoga is more than just an exercise class. Yoga is community. It is connection, with my own body and with those sharing their practice with me. It matters less to me about the extras and the frills a space may offer, and more about the intentions and the energies of the people practicing together.
I had found this at Desert Song Yoga in Phoenix, and I knew that this is where I can connect with new people here in California.
The Yoga Center of Morro Bay is in a small building, just a single 12 x 20 room with a small secondary space where you enter that is lined with cubbyholes for your shoes, and bins for mats, bolsters and foam blocks. There is no office or receptionist, just a simple wooden box labeled “donations.”
I signed in, filled out a form with my name, yoga experience and in case of emergency person. Jennifer, the teacher, was slender, maybe thirty, with a gentle voice and a wide smile. I set up my mat, blanket and laid down to do my usual relaxation and grounding before class began.
We started in a seated position, immediately stretching our hips. I was expecting to be led through a little more relaxation and grounding, then open the class with a community om. Because that’s how we’ve always done it in my old yoga class. And for a short moment I fell into a place of judgment, that this wasn’t going to be a good class because it was different.
And this is another way that yoga is like pizza.
When I’m trying a new pizza, even though I am only sampling a simple pizza, I am probably comparing it to what I already know. Is the sauce as sweet as Mama Mia’s, is the crust as thick as Red Devil’s. We humans can’t help but compare things to what we already know. But in that comparison we stumble into expectations. And then we aren’t able to appreciate the flavors presented to us because it’s not what we’re used to.
I said a quiet om to myself and eased into my breath, trying the new way the teacher was explaining to breathe into my belly and pull up and back with my breath. I moved through the poses, slow and present, even crying a few times as my body released fears, expectations and opened to being in this new space.
And when I fell back into surprise and judgment when the teacher didn’t guide us into finding mountain pose before we attempted to balance in tree pose, I realized that I could guide myself, because that’s what my teachers have taught me.
Learning something new, trying new things, requires us to let go of what we already know, and, at the same time, bring our experiences with us, but without judgment or expectation. It’s a tricky balancing act, but, it can be delicious.
How do you approach new things? Please share your own story of trying something new by clicking on the comments below.
The Dancing Swarm of Fireflies
I have a friend who juggles her writing job with her own fiction writing, being a wife and mom, homeschooling her daughter and a hundred other things that come up in her day.
She recently starting taking swimming lessons and commented that “she can do nice, efficient strokes or remember how to breathe properly, but doing them both at the same time was going to take practice.”
I love when an experience shines as a larger metaphor for something else going on in our life.
When I was in Phoenix earlier this month, I spent an afternoon with Marika at the Phoenix Art Museum. My favorite piece was Yayoi Kusama’s interactive installation, You Who Are Getting Obliterated in the Dancing Swarm of Fireflies.
To experience the piece, we entered a dark room that had thousands of fiber optic lights suspended at different heights from the mirrored ceiling to the mirrored floor. The walls were also mirrors, so the lines of reflecting lights extended forever, like a big city skyline, like the solar system, like an ocean of fireflies.
I went in first and the darkness was disorienting. I had no concept of where I was in the space. I took small, tentative steps, my arms extended and waving in front of me so that I wouldn’t walk into a wall. Marika walked slightly behind me, her hand on my shoulder, as if she were a blind person being led.
The thick strands of lights brushed against my legs, across my shoulders as we moved further into the room. It was like walking through a fairy tale forest of hanging colored vines.
The lights dimmed and changed from blue to red, yellow to green and we ooohed and aahed at the expanse of lights that seemed to extend into infinity. Sometimes we could see our reflections on a far wall, but more often, we were walking nearly blind through the sea of hanging lights.
“I know there’s an exit,” I said. “I saw the sign before we came in.” She doubted me, but followed my lead. But I couldn’t find the passageway out, so we made our way back to the entrance.
We walked around the outside of the room and I showed her the exit sign I had seen. “OK let’s go back in,” she said.
This time she led. I held her hand as we walked between the dangling tangle of lights. She moved slowly but confidently through the maze of colors, pointing to the shadow of us on a wall, laughing when a strand of lights trailed across her face. “Look over there.” She pointed to a glow of orange on a far wall. “It reminds me of that sunset on the beach.”
She led us through the changing colors toward a large rectangle of dim light and suddenly we were standing in the main gallery, next to the exit sign.
Of course, the metaphor of it all is not lost on me: How I, with my usual cockiness, thought I would lead us through to the exit. My sureness gave her the confidence to follow me, but it turned out that SHE led ME through to the exit.
And in the larger metaphor, after spending three weeks with me in the RV in California, she is now telling people that, yes, she IS moving there. She also says that it will take some time because there is a lot to do to make it happen.
I am constantly surprised and amused by this dance we do, the give and take, the partnership of it all. How we walk this journey together, at any given time one or the other is able to take the lead and the other is willing to follow, with trust and faith and so much love.
What experiences serve as larger metaphors in your life?
I’d love for you to share your experiences – just click on the Comments below.
Every Choice Is the Right Choice
As you read this, I’m in Phoenix for the week, visiting friends and working with Mac clients. I’ll be driving my car back to California next weekend and settling into my new home at the Bella Vista Mobile Lodge in Cayucos. (This is the view from the office.)
Some folks are surprised that I didn’t choose the bungalow, or at least choose to wait to hear whether the landlords had picked me to be the tenant.
But on Wednesday afternoon I still hadn’t heard from the bungalow owners whether or not they had chosen me as their tenant. I had paid to stay at the RV park through Thursday and Marika was heading back to Phoenix that weekend.
I was going to drive back with her and a lot depended on what I decided.
If I got the house, I’d be driving the RV back and we’d leave on Friday, stop overnight in Ventura and visit a friend’s open studio. Then, back in AZ, I’d have a friend help me load up a U-Haul with my things and drive it up and I’d drive my car.
If I didn’t get the house, we’d drive back on Saturday all in one day in Marika’s car, I’d stay for a week working with clients then drive my car back.
Either scenario was do-able, so it became a deeper choice. What did I really WANT.
The more I sat with the options, I realized that coming to California in the RV to find a house was indeed my original plan. But I was really enjoying the simpleness of things, living in my small, contained space, the ease of feeling like I’m on a working vacation. I just needed my own car, so I’d have more flexibility and mobility. I also knew I didn’t want to stay in the RV park that I’d been in all month, now that the summer season is over and I was by myself.
The mobile home park in Cayucos offered me a very affordable way to continue living this working vacation life. And it was across the street from the ocean.
I heard voices in my head urging me to start working full-time again, that this vacation life was fine for a month but really, I should be making money, connecting with the Apple store, living a real life.
But this IS my real life! And when I step back and claim that, out loud, it makes me very, very happy.
Often, our original vision is what gets us to take action, that brings us to a new place. And in that new place we have a different view, a new perspective and so it’s natural for the vision and the dream to change.
And that is why I have chosen to spend at least another month in the RV in the new park in Cayucos where there are permanent residents in their mobile homes as well as travelers coming and going in their RVs.
And the owners are so flexible. While I’m in Phoenix, I moved my RV to the dry camp area (no hookups, but I don’t need them) and it’s only $10.00 a day. And if some folks with previous reservations for my space come in over one of the weekends, I can return to the dry camp and not have to find a new place to stay.
I love the ease and effortlessness of this decision.
Sure, I could fall into the hole of wondering if I made the “right” choice. After all, the bungalow was pretty perfect, even though I’d have to buy a refrigerator.
But I realize that whatever choice I make is the “right” one. Because eventually I’ll have the opportunity to make another choice. And another. Because each choice isn’t the end of the road, it’s merely another step on the journey.
I’d love to hear your reflections about your own choices. Click on Comments below.
Saying Yes and Letting Go, Again!
I can’t believe it’s already September and that I’ve been in Morro Bay for a whole month now, gloriously enjoying the weather, the air, the ocean and the bay.
In the last few weeks I’ve affirmed that yes, I’m ready to settle down, create community, and continue to explore how I want to connect and serve in my life.
As much as I love the freedom of RV living, I’m ready to say I live here, to have neighbors and a space to share with new and old friends. But rental houses are far and few between in Los Osos and Morro Bay. And having a dog limits the choices even more.
I have been double and triple checking Craigslist and various realtors sites many times a day, looking, looking, looking for my perfect house.
I even downsized my requirements-from a 2 bedroom to a one bedroom if it had a bonus room or a sunroom or a secondary space for working. It could be in Los Osos OR Morro Bay, and I didn’t have to have easy access to the walking along the water right out my front door.
Still, nothing appeared.
Then I saw an ad for a cute 2 bedroom in Morro Bay. I called the number even though it didn’t say anything about dogs and the woman said she’d consider pets and would call me either way when they were ready to show the house.
Marika went with me to see it last Friday. It’s a 2 bedroom beach bungalow with a yard, washer/dryer hookups, a gas stove and a garage. The landlords are a working couple who live two hours inland and plan to retire in the house at some point, so it is well maintained and cared for. And it has an ocean view!
The master bedroom has great shelves in the closets (for my art supplies) and a sliding glass door to the patio. The smaller bedroom could easily fit my queen bed, side tables and dresser with room to spare. There are ceiling fans in both bedrooms and wall heaters in the master and living room. The kitchen is open to the living room and there’s a second door that leads to the fully fenced back yard. There’s plenty of storage in the separate laundry room off of the garage. And the yard is buffered on both sides by garages so there’s no chance of Laddy being harassed by a neighbor’s dog.
More than a dozen people came to see the house while I was there, and they were expecting many more. I filled out my application and told the woman about my very very high credit score and we chatted a little and she said they were fine with a dog. I even showed her a photo of Laddy, standing on a pile of kelp on the beach. I could tell she was overwhelmed with the turnout of people so I thanked her and we left.
Afterwards, I wished I had taken pictures, sketched the floor plan, given her my business card. But I too, was overwhelmed with how many people had come to see the place. There were two young couples with toddlers and babies on the way, a family of five, a young woman with no credit. I wondered if the landlords would be more interested in helping a young family or renting to a mature professional woman with great credit and a dog.
And I wondered if I should call them and tell them how much I really wanted to live in the house.
But I had to let it go.
I asked friends to send up good mojo, while I imagined Laddy and I living in the house. At the same time, I tried not to be too attached to the outcome.
The landlady called the next afternoon to ask a few more questions about my business. She told me I was in the top running but she didn’t know how to verify my income since I don’t have an employer. I offered to send her a copy of my financials, but she declined. I suggested she take a look at my website to see what I do and how I make my money and she liked that idea. And I was able to tell her that I would really LOVE to live in the house.
Again, I asked my friends for their good wishes. They reminded me to trust the process, to allow THEM to hold the vision for me so I could let it go.
I breathed in their support and tried to stay focused on the present moment, walking along the beach, eating more delicious seafood, enjoying Marika’s company.
But I kept thinking how perfect it all was. The house is the right size, in the right location, for the right price. It has everything on my wish list, including invested landlords. And Marika is driving back to Arizona this weekend. If I got the house, I could caravan back with her, then work for a week with clients in Phoenix, load my stuff into a U-Haul and drive my car back, ready to settle into my new address.
It all seemed so easy, so right, so meant to be.
My controlling self wanted to call the landlady 100 times to convince her to pick me, pick me.
But each time I realized I was too attached to the outcome, I breathed into my heart, easing into trust and remembering that there are some things I simply have no control over.
And now it is Tuesday night and I still don’t know about the house on Hemlock. And if I don’t get it, then what?
Now that summer is over, the RV park is empty. We’re the only ones here and it’s a little creepy and very lonely.
Should I just stay here, as is, and be the only person here in this RV park, but close to the beach and in familiar surroundings?
Should I leave the RV parked here, drive back with Marika this weekend to get my car and drive it back so I have more mobility and flexibility?
Should I check out the RV park in Cayucos that our last neighbors told us about because it’s cheaper?
Cayucos is a very small beach town five miles north of Morro Bay, known for surfing, antique stores and a great dog beach. They also get much less fog and much more sun than Morro Bay, which is not necessarily a plus for me.
Marika agreed to drive up there with me this evening to check it out. We pulled into the Bella Vista Mobile Lodge in Cayucos just as the sun was setting pink over the ocean. The park is mostly mobile homes, with 29 RV spaces scattered through the park, all with a patch of grass, full hookups and wifi but no TV. It’s on the hill at the north end of town, just a short skip down the road to the beach, the pier and Duckie’s Chowder House. You can hear the ocean rolling from many of the sites.
I like the idea of living in a community of full-timers. And the price-OMG-only $525/month! I could park the RV in my spot and use my car to drive into town, explore, play, volunteer, go to yoga, see clients and whatever else I want to do. I wouldn’t feel the pressure of having to make a lot of money and build up my business. Instead, I could continue to walk and write and connect and keep exploring how else I want to serve.
So tomorrow I will call the office and see about staying there for at least through the month of September. If it’s a yes, then Laddy and I will still drive back with Marika, but in her car. I’ll stay with her and work in Phoenix for a week if I have clients, then drive my car back and settle in with a new Cayucos address. And there are plenty of motels and hotels where friends can stay when they come to visit.
Of course, I’ll keep you posted. Meanwhile, if you want to rev up some good mojo, please do. And then, let it go!
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