Our Month of May
I hope you are doing well wherever you are, noticing the changes in the seasons, the skies, your own energy. And I hope you are breathing often. I mean, really breathing. To ground yourself, to give yourself permission to pause, to slow it all down. It’s the only way to stay sane and centered when everything around you is a challenge.
Conscious, big belly breathing is how I’ve gotten through this full and challenging month here in the Big City. After several return trips to the RV repair place, a lot of hassle and arguing, everything is finally working. And we have a toilet that fits the space, that doesn’t leak.
We also have a new foam and mattress topper on the bed, stiffer foam in my writing space cushions, and a humidifier to add to our collection of temperature control items.
And since Marika’s insurance is only good in this county, she got a follow-up mammogram (all clear), and took care of a cancerous spot on her cheek. We also had my dad’s house treated for termites, and got him a new ID card, since he no longer has a valid driver’s license.
And Cody, who’s been moving with a little less grace than usual, and sometimes pooping without knowing it, went to see his regular vet. X-rays confirm that he has severe arthritis along his spine, causing the numbness in his back legs, which is why he doesn’t always have them under him, or realize he’s pooping in the house. So no more running ball games, to avoid the short stops that might do more damage.
And he now uses a ramp to go up and down the RV steps. He’s been on a short course of steroids, and he’s also had three acupuncture sessions. Between the two treatments, he’s moving with more confidence and stability, only pooped in the house once, and he’s even able to half-shake his body.
The first 100 decks of Heart Sparks cards are out in the world, doing their magic. There are even a few decks for sale in stores in Phoenix. And I just ordered the second 100 decks, so let me know if you’d like me to send you one!
And so, with everything taken care of, and no follow-up appointments needed, we finally have a departure date to head north to our volunteering job on the central Oregon coast.
We’ll take a week to drive the 1300 mile route, with a three-day stop in Sacramento to visit with friends. I’m looking forward to the wide open desert drive from here to our first stop in California. I can’t wait to be out on the road again, the Big City behind us, heading to our next adventure. I’m ready!
A Convenient Inconvenience
We were supposed to be on the road today, heading west and north to our summer volunteer job on the Oregon coast. But two Saturdays ago, after a delightful dinner out with friends, we came home, turned the AC down and lost electricity in the RV. And we smelled something burning.
We followed the smell to the 30 amp plug in the sewage compartment where you attach the power cord when traveling. The power cord that was plugged into the RV park’s electric post, was fine. The damage seemed to be contained inside our plug box, thank God. But without electricity or the use of the generator, we quickly packed up some things and arrived at my Dad’s house at 11:30 pm.
Fortunately, we’d been there the week before, when the RV was getting a new toilet. So we were all comfortable and familiar with the space and each other. On Monday we drove the RV back to the repair place. We knew their schedule was full, but they said they’d fit us in, and have it done by Friday. So we got a few more things out of the RV and settled into my Dad’s house for the week.
His girlfriend was out of town, so he was staying at his house for the duration. It was a great opportunity for us to observe him in his element, to see how capable he really is, living alone. He cooks, cleans, does his own laundry, and even trims the tree branches. Yes, he forgets things, but that’s to be expected for an 88 year old.
We all got along, him doing his thing, us doing ours. Sometimes we shared a meal, sometimes we ate on our own schedules. My dad is not a dog person, so he and Cody mostly ignored each other, but one morning, I did hear him say to Cody, “Hello. Good morning,” and it made me smile.
My dad is also not a reminiscer. He is a mathematician and an engineer. Life is about problems and solutions, and having things under control. Whenever I ask him, “Do you remember…?” He says, “No. It was a long time ago.” So I was tickled when he showed me the stack of Father’s Day cards I’d made for him over the years.
Staying with him at the house made it easier to take care of some big Dad projects: he now has a current Medical Power of Attorney, naming Marika as his person, he donated his car to KJZZ, and we met with his doctors so my Dad could hear the realities of his future with end stage kidney disease.
And I’ve been able to thank all of the nurses and neighbors who are my father’s village. One nurse, who genuinely enjoys taking care of my dad said, “You’re so nice. You must take after you mom.” Because he can also be abrupt and obstinate and rude.
In the midst of the RV and my Dad, we’ve also been doing a lot of hoop dancing with the medical insurance world. Marika’s application on my BCBS policy was declined, and she had some missing information in her ACA application, so we’ve been plowing through the paperwork for appeals and extensions. And, since we’re here, and Marika’s current insurance is only good in this county, she’s been making some medical appointments.
The RV is still at the repair place because the fridge keeps turning off. They first thought it was a propane issue, but when we went back last Friday to pick it up, the fridge was still shutting off. Now they think we need new batteries, so we’ll see. And so our departure date is still up in the air.
It’s been pretty stressful all around, for Marika, especially. So we’ve been trying to stay calm and present and grateful. In the past, I’d be go crazy, not knowing when we’re leaving, when we’re getting to Oregon, what’s up for the next few days. But instead, I’m flowing with the changes, doing a lot of deep belly breathing, and appreciating This. Here. Now.
And we are saying a lot of thank you’s. For a comfortable and welcoming house to stay in, for my Dad’s hospitality, great air conditioning, really fast internet, and a big fenced yard for Cody to play in. That the short in the RV plug didn’t turn into a huge electrical fire. And that we can extend our stay in town until we feel the RV is really fixed and ready for the road.
I’ve been using the Heart Sparks cards to ground myself these past few weeks, sometimes choosing a random card, and some days, pulling out the ones I know I need, like SURRENDER and FLOW and BE.
And getting the Heart Sparks cards out into the world has kept my heart light and open. Decks are now available at Storm Wisdom in Phoenix, and at SWIHA in Tempe. This means the first 100 decks are out in the world! And that makes me goosebumpy happy.
I’m now taking orders for the second bulk order, so if you’d like to purchase a deck, email me for the details!
From my very grateful, flowing heart to yours!
Southern Arizona
We’re in our last traveling days before pulling into Phoenix for the month of April. We’ve been mostly hop-skipping our way west, with shorter one and two night stop overs every two hundred miles between Galveston and southern Arizona, where we’re relaxing for this last week.
We spent a long weekend outside of Austin near the lower Colorado River, in the same park system where we were camp hosts last March. This time we stayed on the North Shore, with open grass areas and a lovely view of Lake Bastrop. We chose to return to the area so we could get together with friends who live in Austin, and also to eat at a really delicious Chinese restaurant. We were so disappointed to find out that the restaurant had closed the day we got there.
We stayed in Kerrville for three nights, in a private campground along the Guadalupe River. We celebrated my 60th birthday there with a drive into the small town, got a free cone from Dairy Queen, and scored some fun shirts at the thrift store. Marika wanted to take me out for a fancy dinner, but I just wanted to enjoy her homemade hummus and veggies at home. So we stopped at the supermarket for some wild salmon to add to the menu and But picked up two decadent slices of cake from a fancy bakery, that was served with candles, for dessert.
Most of the people at the park were seasonal, and I talked myself into saying YES to joining them for their weekly poker game. It was dealer’s choice with wild cards almost every game, so it was more about luck than skill, but it was fun. And I doubled my $5.00 buy in.
The roads across Texas were dappled with blue bonnets and Indian paintbrush. Once into New Mexico the terrain changed to high desert, with fields of sunshine as far as you could see.
While I loved the wide open space and the forever sky, the drive was long and quiet, since I can’t talk or sing. Ever since we left Georgia on March 1st, I’ve had all kinds of allergic sneezing and coughing, and it turned into laryngitis the second day we were on the Texas coast almost 3 weeks ago. I’ve been drinking lots, gargling with salt water, and drowning in slippery elm tea, but there’s really been no change. And the dry air also hasn’t helped.
And now that we’re in the desert, things are even drier, so we purchased a small humidifier to keep the air moister for my mucous membranes. And yes, I’ll be seeing someone when we get to Phoenix next week.
But for now, we’re enjoying the slow transition to the climate and the sun of the southwest. We are in Tubac, Arizona, about 25 miles north of the Mexican border at Nogales. We’re here for the migrating hawks. Instead of staying at an upscale RV resort, we found an offbeat campground that feels more like a junkyard with random spaces for RVs to hookup. But the people are great, it’s quiet with a groomed walking trail, and the birds are a plenty.
All day long we watch goldfinches, sparrows, hummers, orioles, phainopepla, cardinals, and gila woodpeckers feasting on Marika’s various feeders. We’ve seen quail and roadrunners, and this morning, Marika even saw three deer.
The owner is also a licensed masseuse, and she gave me one of the best massages I’ve ever had. And that same evening, she and her husband played music on the patio with one of the RV guests.
Cody and I love the walking path that skirts the property. It’s graded dirt, about six feel wide, bordered by tall, wild weeds full of scents, and smells, and bright yellow buds. I try to stay on the less dusty sections, keeping my eyes out for snakes, since it is that season. The path passes three backyards furnished with bright colored patio furniture and barbecue grills. It’s cool under the canopy of desert trees whose name I can’t remember.
We had only planned to stay two nights, and actually questioned that choice when we first pulled in, but we extended our stay for another three, to enjoy the quiet, and the space, and the birds. Marika has been going birding every morning and I have been enjoying the slow, easy, restorative pace.
Tomorrow we are going into town to experience some art. And we’ve been getting together with friends in the area, too. We’ll drive the last three hours north to Phoenix on Saturday, when the freeways are a little less crazy with traffic.
One of the big reasons we’re spending April in Phoenix is to take care of some Dad things. He’s 88, still living at home, and spending half his time at his girlfriend’s house in Sun City West. The intention is to clean out a few rooms in his house that he doesn’t use, assess how he’s really doing, and be his taxi service since he no longer has a driver’s license.
Usually we stay at a nearby RV park, but we couldn’t get a reservation, so I suggested we park the RV in my Dad’s driveway and live in the house since we wouldn’t be able to plug into electricity to run the air conditioner, which is a necessity in Phoenix in April. We’d save some money, be more available for my Dad, and Cody would have a yard.
But my father was concerned about the weight of the RV on the cracks in the driveway. He doesn’t relate to dogs, and would prefer Cody stayed outside. And it would be a tight fit maneuvering into the space.
The more I thought about it, the more I imagined the stress I would feel of living with my father in the house that I spent my teen years in. That my father now shares with his girlfriend. Where my mom’s office is still like she left it nine years ago.
I was anxious about not sleeping in my own bed, not having a place to retreat and restore, and the thought of all of the emotions of going through my mother’s things. And I worried about how Cody would feel when we had to leave him in the house to go for outings.
And then I had to stop myself and come back to the beauty and ease of where I was. I had to remind myself that I can feel the BEVY (my mom’s name) of emotions as they arise, when they arise. But I didn’t need to be feeling them right now, because it wasn’t happening right now.
Instead, I focused on what supports I might need when I’m there, and how I might cope when things got uncomfortable. And I shared all of these thoughts with Marika so she could understand what I might need from her, even if I was too far in to ask.
And I reminded myself that it will be like the waterfall in the river at the end of the campground in Kerrville. It may get a little bumpy, a bit exciting, and things might get churned up. But on the other side, a slow and steady, easy flow will be waiting for me.
And then I got an email from the RV Park woman in Phoenix, asking when we were coming, that she DID have a spot for us. And my whole being relaxed. Now I could have my own space, sleep in my own bed, even swim in the park’s pool, so that I am much better equipped and prepared and able to take care of whatever comes up.
We will be staying at my Dad’s house for the two or three days that the RV is in the shop for a new toilet next week. But then I’ll be home and free, and ready.
In addition to Dad things, we’ll be taking care of medical stuff, getting both vehicles re-registered, and, of course, enjoying our favorite foods and friends. This will be the first time I’m in Phoenix, NOT working with Mac clients. I can’t wait to see how that open space feels.
I will hold the first deck of Heart Sparks oracle cards in my hands this weekend. If they are as beautiful in real life as they are on the screen, I will be placing the first orders. Email me for details on pre-ordering your own deck.
From my heart to yours,
A Souvenir From Georgia
It’s our very last day in Georgia, after a great, three-month volunteering gig at Fort Pulaski National Monument between Savannah and Tybee Island. We’ve learned all kinds of things about the Civil War, fortifications, and cannon (which is the plural of cannon). We know more about the low country Gullah Geechee culture that is being wiped out by development. And we’re bringing home the most amazing souvenir:
A marriage certificate!
Yes! After thirty years together, Marika and I got married! In Georgia!! We got the license last Thursday at the county courthouse in Savannah, and then last Saturday morning, we had the official ceremony On the BEACH on Tybee Island!!! A friend and her partner came down from Atlanta to perform the very small, very simple ceremony. Two other friends came too, to be witness. Another friend sent a beautiful, delicious, coconut cake, that we all enjoyed back at the RV, after lunch at a local restaurant.
Because neither one of us had ever dreamed of having a wedding, the whole thing was spontaneous and organic and perfect for who we are, now.
The tide was almost high, so we stood in the soft sand near the dunes, facing the waves, with Tybee Lighthouse in the background. It was cloudy, and chilly, and very windy, so the video is mostly wind. But the pictures capture the joy and love.
Instead of writing vows, we sang a medley of our favorite love songs to each other. And we found our rings at the beach souvenir store, next to the bikinis and plastic sand toys.
It all happened so quickly, but everything fell into place so easily. The impetus was to get Marika on my health insurance that has coverage all over the country. We’re hoping she’ll be approved by the time we get to Phoenix, so she can make her appointments to get on the path to less pain.
When I told my Dad we were getting married, his first comment was about better taxes, then he wanted to make sure it was legal everywhere. And then he said Mazel Tov and hoped I was happy. He told me about his day, and he’s often forgotten the previous conversation by then, but he said, Let me talk to Marika, and he wished her happiness too. WOW!
It’s all pretty amazing. And exciting too! And a wonderful way to begin this next chapter, with a three week honeymoon road trip.
We pull out in the morning, heading to a county park south of Tallahassee to see manatees and a lighthouse, then on to Fairhope, Alabama, north of Gulf Shores, and the birthplace of Jimmy Buffet. We’ll spend a few days exploring some wildlife refuges in the area, then we’ll enjoy a relaxing week of birds and beach on Bolivar Peninsula on the Texas coast. I’m thinking we’ll be back in Phoenix by the end of the month, but I don’t have a plan past Texas, because I don’t need to.
Once again, I am reminded that things really do unfold in their own time. And that it’s always so much more amazing than I could have imagined. It’s a practice of ask and let go, trust and release, and open, open, open!
Thanks for sharing in the joy and excitement!
Endings and Beginnings
It has been a very full two weeks. We’ve been shadowing the park rangers on their daily tours of the fort, learning different tidbits from each presenter. We had training for ringing up sales on the computer register, and this past weekend, we participated in the Fort’s annual Candle Lantern event, a re-enactment of the Christmas Nog party held at the fort in December, 1861.
We dressed in period clothing and greeted visitors who were then escorted to the fort, lit only by candles and oil lanterns, for music, storytelling, egg nog, and, of course, the firing of the cannon.
And now, after three weeks of an erratic work schedule, we’re excited that this is our first week of our regular schedule: four days working, and three days off. We’re ready for those three days off in a row!
I’m looking forward to some relaxing, a walk on the beach, and also a visit to the Prohibition Museum in downtown Savannah.
And I’m setting aside some time to think about this past year. We spent time in 20 states, traveling and touristing and volunteering. We worked as camp hosts, and in the visitors center at a national wildlife refuge and now, at Fort Pulaski National Historic Monument. I reconnected with college friends and we even met up with some RVing friends. And after 32 amazing years, I closed my Mac training business. And none of this was part of the future life I dreamed of 10 years ago.
I was re-reading a blog post from mid-2009, and my big dream then was to write my book about living creatively, and travel around the country in my RV, sharing the book and leading workshops.
And I did exactly that in 2015.
And then, in 2016 my biggest dream, which I had let go of, never thinking it would happen, came true. Marika retired and said YES to living full-time on the road with me.
It’s been a mostly wonderful life since then. In fact, I am so content with how we’re living and traveling, that I have put any bigger dreams completely out of view. So much so that I barely think I even have any more big dreams.
When I ask myself “what else?” it’s pretty quiet. But then I feel something. And when I open into the feeling, I remember my dream of me on a big stage, sharing stories and inspirations with a room full of smiling people. But the moment I think about the work, and the path to get there, it feels too hard, too big, too never mind.
But I also want it.
And so 2019 is the year I am taking the next first step toward that stage and that room full of smiling people. And they are smiling because we are doing an exercise together, holding our smiles as wide as we can for a whole minute to increase our feel good hormones. (Try it!)
So in these last days of 2018, I’m going to sit with this vision, and walk with this vision, and sleep with this vision, to be sure it’s what I really want.
And I’m going to look back on this past year, see what I enjoyed the most, what I don’t want to do again, what I’m most proud of, what made me laugh, when I felt happiest.
I’m going to think about this coming year, and what kinds of people I want to connect with, how I want to challenge myself, and what I want to add to or remove from my life to better support this big stage dream.
I’m still playing around with my word for the year. I haven’t chosen one in a few years, and I realize how powerful it can be, and how it will be a guiding spark for me as I shift my thoughts, behaviors, and attention. I’m using my former coach, Christine Kane’s worksheet. (Yes, you have to give her your email to get it, but it’s a great tool, and you can always unsubscribe.)
I’d love to help you end and begin your own year. Let’s set up a personal coaching call, or, join the upcoming virtual Heart Sparks Coaching Circle for a truly powerful shift.
From my ending and beginning heart to yours!
The Power of a Word
Every year I choose a single word as a compass, a guide, a tangible reminder of what I want to manifest for myself. The word serves as a touchstone for me as I make choices through the year. I post the word in my bathroom and acknowledge it daily, asking myself “how can I be that?”
The first year I chose the word BE. Because I was always planning, dreaming and imagining the future, I was rarely present where I was.
BE-ing was very uncomfortable.
It made me slow down and experience where I was, not where I wanted to be NEXT. It made me sit still and feel my emotions. I began a yoga practice and discovered that the simple act of breathing can calm me and bring me back to the here and now.
The next year my word was VULNERABILITY. I wanted to let go of control and open to things that I didn’t have the answers to. I was ready to feel what was uncomfortable and go even deeper.
I had so many opportunities during that year to practice this: with relationships, how I traveled, choosing to apply for a job that I didn’t get. And I had emergency open heart surgery. Talk about vulnerability and letting go of control. It was the most amazing gift of an experience to be in that space of pure vulnerability and know how much I was loved and supported.
The following year I chose ASK as a reminder that, even though I had fully recovered, I didn’t have to do everything all by myself. I learned to ask for support, money, ideas, companionship. More important, I learned that’s it’s not about having the answers but being able to ask bigger questions and opening to the silence that is larger than me for deep and true inspiration.
Last year my word was INTEGRAYTION, intentionally spelled with the word gray in it because I wanted to let go of the extreme black and white of my thinking and live more in the grays. I wanted to find ways to meld my two seemingly opposite work worlds together more, to let go of my all-or-nothing way of being. A friend gifted me a beautiful necklace with the word stamped in silver and it was a lovely expression of further integrating my work with my personal life.
This year my word has been EXPANSION. I want more space in my life. I want to show up bigger, both inside of myself and how I connect in the world. I want to open myself beyond what I already know and do well, to what else might be possible.
Expansion is all about breathing deeper and living at the edge of what is familiar and comfortable. And moving into that opened space with courage and intention and faith.
Already this year I have had several opportunities to do things that bring me right to that edge. And, scary as each activity may feel, when I come back to my word, I see how saying YES completely supports my desire for expansion.
- I am part of an online writing community, re-committing to my daily writing practice. Click here to read my latest piece.
- I am going to a workshop in San Diego this month to create my own Geography of Loss Art Quilt
- Instead of doing a safe, written interview with a Passionate Person for the website, I was asked to do a video interview via Skype (check it out below!)
- I joined a movement/drawing class to connect with the Rhythm of Being
- I am following through with my dream to move to California
- I am pursuing opportunities to share my Mac training videos with a much larger audience
- I already have signups for a women’s retreat I am leading at a new facility in the desert in April
In the midst of all of this external expansion, it’s just as important for me to also lean into the inner expansions I am creating – to breathe, and rest and be still in this new and wondrous and sometimes vulnerable space.
What’s your word for this year? How does it help you move toward your dreams?
Please share by clicking on the Comments below.
Stories From Savannah
We have arrived at our new volunteering assignment at Fort Pulaski National Monument, just outside of Savannah. We’re learning about the Fort’s significance, and all kinds of Fort-y words, like Sallyport (the entrance to the Fort), cannon gin (a machine used to move the cannons), and Blindage (large timbers used to protect the inside of the Fort).
Right now we’re still being oriented, and shadowing the other workers. Eventually, we’ll be answering questions in the Visitor Center and walking around in the Fort, answering questions and making sure folks aren’t climbing on the cannons and grassy mounds. Next weekend, we’ll be dressing in period costumes and greeting visitors for the special Candle Lanterns event where we offer evening tours of the Fort, with carolers, apple cider and cookies. Some of the re-enacters will even spend the night in the Fort!
We’ll be working 4 days a week, 8 hours a day, with an hour off for lunch. (I haven’t worked an 8-hour shift in more than 30 years!) But this week we’ve been on, off and on again, so we’re still a bit discombobulated. I’m sure once we have our regular schedule, we’ll feel more settled.
Our campsite is spectacular. We’re actually on Cockspur Island, surrounded by the Savannah River, marshes, pine trees and holly bushes. We have a level cement pad and a huge lawn for Cody to run and play ball. We have a clear view of the south channel of the Savannah River, and huge cargo ships float by at all hours of the day and night.
We are right next to the River Pilot station and the Coast Guard station, so we hear Reverie every morning at 8. And, after the gates close at 5, we are the only ones on the island, and it is so quiet and serene. We’ve seen deer, armadillos and a variety of birds. Last night a buck nestled under the closest pine tree to sleep.
There is a lot to see and explore on the Fort grounds and in Savannah, just 16 miles up the river. And the North Beach of Tybee Island is only 10 minutes away!
And, now that we are in one place for the next 3 months, I’m ready, so ready, to gather a virtual Heart Sparks Coaching Circle.
For those of you unfamiliar, the virtual Heart Sparks Coaching Circle is an intimate weekly gathering of 7 women who are ready for something to shift in their lives.
We’ll meet via ZOOM, a free online video-conference app, so that we are each seen and heard. We’ll use my book, HEART SPARKS, as a guide to engage in exercises and spark conversations. You’ll also receive weekly emails with inspirations and homework, and you’ll have 2 private 1:1 phone coaching sessions with me to focus on your personal journey.
All of the details are here.
www.sparktheheart.com/hsc
We begin January 6, 2019.
If you have any questions, please ask!
Greetings From the Grand Strand
Greetings from the Grand Strand. That’s what the local weatherman calls this section of the South Carolina Coast that stretches from Little River, north of Myrtle Beach, to Georgetown, where we’re spending one more night before continuing south.
We’ve been enjoying a very relaxed journey from New England down the Eastern seaboard. We learned about the Surfmen at a Light Saving Station, weathered a Nor’easter with 50mph wind gusts, and enjoyed leash-free romps on the beach with no other people on the entire beach. We watched die-hard fisherman cast their lines on 35° mornings, and happened upon an exhibit of Audubon’s original prints and engravings at the Booth Museum in Dover.
Marika drove us over the 18 mile Chesapeake Bay Bridge-Tunnel, a truly beautiful drive from the passenger seat. We camped at a state park along the Chesapeake Bay and took beach walks every day. We walked the labyrinth at the Edgar Cayce Association for Research and Enlightenment, and marveled at the decoys at the Atlantic Wildfowl Heritage Museum. Marika even said that they made her a little hungry to carve again.
For Thanksgiving we visited with a dear friend who I haven’t hugged in 10 years. We camped in her driveway, and her husband even hooked up a 30 amp plug so we could have electricity. They gave us a tour of their town, and how they craft their handmade soaps, and took us out to a farm to see their beehives. We enjoyed delicious foods, chilly walks, and a golf cart ride to see the sunset over the Palmico River. And we even taught them how to play dominoes. We all needed the laughs and the easy companionship. It was the best Thanksgiving we’ve had in a very long time.
It poured the day we left, so the three-hour drive turned into four and a half, and we were both fried when we pulled in to register for our campsite in Carolina Beach. Our tanks were almost full from the 3 days in our friend’s driveway, but the folks in the office told us that the dump station was closed because a very large branch was hanging over the driveway to the dump. It had been like that for 2 months, since the hurricane, but there was no notice on the website. The nearby private campground wanted to charge us a night’s stay to use their dump.
We had to dump if we were going to stay, so we took our chances and backed into the dump station driveway, avoiding the hanging branch, which could easily crash down in a big wind. We hooked up both sewage hoses in order to reach the hole, and we emptied our tanks. When we pulled into our spot, we saw it had a sewer hookup.
We couldn’t believe they didn’t they tell us at the check-in that our spot had sewage at the site. (The reservation indicated water and electric only.)
AND, the car battery was dead when we pulled in, so we had to get the check-in people to give us a jump. After we pulled into our spot and set up, Marika was on the phone with AAA, asking about a new battery while I took Cody for a much needed walk.
AAA came, everything worked out, and we were so happy to be done with the day, feet up, under the trees, along a river, near the ocean.
Today we’re in Georgetown, South Carolina, about to drive into the historic downtown area to walk along the waterfront and check out the Rice Museum.
Tomorrow, we’ll head to Edisto Beach State Park, our last camping before we begin our three-month volunteering gig at Fort Pulaski in Savannah, Georgia.
P.S. I have been missing doing my coaching work and, once I know the wifi and cellular situation in Savannah, I’ll be sharing details about a new Virtual Heart Sparks Circle. Imagine 7 weeks of inspiring emails and exciting homework, along with weekly virtual gatheringswith 7 open-hearted women who, like you, are ready to say YESto exploring a new perspective, a new attitude, a new way to show up for ourselves and our lives. There will be also be one-on-one coaching sessions, to fully support you.
If this sounds at all intriguing to you, please email me so I know there is interest. No commitment required.
The Leaves Aren’t the Only Thing Changing
note: wifi is slow and sketchy, so no photos right now.
When we left New Jersey on October 1st, the trees along the Garden State Parkway were still full of green, and we were both wearing shorts and t-shirts. Because motorhomes are not allowed on New York Parkways because of the low clearances, we skirted the city and took the Tappen-Zee Bridge over the Hudson River, and into Connecticut. We spent one at a state park along a river, just a few miles from a very rocky beach.
The tide was high, and there were so many big rocks and no sand for a beach. But the sounds of the water pulling back over the rocks was mesmerizing.
We spent two nights in Narragansett, a fishing village on the southern tip of Rhode Island. We’d been there 20 years before, when we rented a cottage with Marika’s mom and some of my friends came to visit, just blocks from where we were now camping at the state park. We were just around the corner from a wildlife refuge AND the beach.
It was officially off-season, so it was free to park at the State Beach Day Use Area just a half mile from the campground. A wooden boardwalk that began in the parking lot was covered with drifts of sand as it led over the short dunes and onto the fine, sandy beach.
I took my shoes off and my feet melted into the firm but soft sand. The tide was high so the beach was short, maybe 30 feet to the water, with rocky jetties on both sides, sectioning off the stretch of beach from the wide crescent of sand where a few other people were walking.
I stopped at the edge of the water and watched the low waves, rolling and breaking, then riding toward me. I rolled up my long shorts and took a few steps in. The water was not shockingly cold, so I rolled my shorts up higher and walked in deeper. The splashing was soothing, and I could feel it loosening me, clearing me, cleansing me. I squished my toes in the sand, feeling my weight shift as the water rolled over and under me.
And I had a feeling inside me of home. Of being exactly where I am meant to be, and being who I am meant to be.
And then, of course, I could see how much change and shifting had been happening in the last few days since we left New Jersey, how EVERYTHING was different. And no wonder I didn’t feel grounded. But being there, at the beach, was the perfect medicine.
That night, we got together with a college friend I hadn’t seen since that house rental twenty years ago. She and her husband took us out to dinner and it was so fun to reconnect and hear about the life she is living.
In the morning I woke unsettled and crying, because we were leaving the next day and I needed more beach time. But we couldn’t stay longer because we had a reservation and a vet appointment for Cody in Massachusetts the following day. We spent the day walking along the nearby beaches, and we found a lighthouse and a circle of stones.
We remembered stories about our last time there with Marika’s mom, and we shared our first lobster roll.
That evening I took myself back to the beach with my chair and journal and stayed until it got too chilly.
The next morning, instead of our usual early departure, we went back to the beach and I walked the stretch of sand between the jetties, back and forth, not thinking, just feeling my feet in the sand, watching the white of the water roll over me.
And, then I asked Marika to go home and get Cody, to bring him to the beach since there were no people there. And she did. And he romped and ran, and seeing him, so happy, filled me with a lightness.
We drove a short two hours to our campsite west of Boston, where we were staying for a full week, to explore the area. It was a private park in the tall, dark trees that hadn’t yet started to color. I cried most of the next two days, feeling disoriented with myself. I wasn’t interested in doing anything, even though there were so many places I had been very excited to visit.
I did fine at the vet, but then I had high-level anxiety about giving Cody his new medications, even though I’m usually the go-to person for his care. It was like I was watching myself from outside of myself, all tense and agitated, and flailing at the same time. Smoking helped with the anxiety, but I still didn’t want to go anywhere. So I just sat with my Facebook feed, and the TV, and cried. I talked with Marika, but I also said some things that were hurtful, and that made things more uncomfortable.
And then I did what I invite my clients to do. I walked in nature. I focused on my breathing. I found ways to appreciate the trees instead of resenting them.
And I gave myself permission to not have to be a tourist every day. That this is a mix of vacation and living. Rest and flow. Do and Be.
Of course.
But when we’re in the middle of our own stuff, we can’t see it. We lose our balance, we get stuck in our head, and we forget the simplest ways back to our heart.
Marika shared that she was also not feeling like doing something every day. And so we took another day at home, and then we were ready to go out into the world. We spent several days visiting Lowell, Massachusetts, home of writer, Jack Kerouac, and also the Industrial Revolution.
We toured the Boote Cotton Mills Museum, and the Quilt Museum (which was more like a gallery with an $8.00 admission charge), and checked out the artist studios in a converted textile factory.
And we got together again with my college friend at an apple picking farm. And yes, Marika baked two apple pies.
We walked around Thoreau’s Walden Pond on the last warm and sunny day of the season. People were on the beach and even swimming in the pond. We each walked at our own pace, then met up for a picnic lunch in the shade.
And one morning we went to the Rachel Carson National Wildlife Refuge and followed a group of preschoolers, dressed as monarch butterflies. They were flying to Mexico for the winter. At the end of the trail they were greeted by Mexican music and teachers wearing sombreros and colorful ponchos.
As we drove along the winding New England roads, we oohed and ahhed at the pops of red and orange leaves, then whole trees, glowing among the greens.
Many campgrounds in New England close after the Columbus Day weekend, but we found one in southern Maine, just south of Kennebunk, where another college friend lives. It was in a grove of changing trees, along a small river, and close to several beaches.
We met my friend for steamed lobsters at the famous Nunan’s Lobster Shack, and reminisced about the apple pie we made for a Spanish class homework assignment. We sent her home with one of Marika’s pies, with a sticky note: pastel de manzana.
We visited the nearby Parker River National Wildlife Refuge, and bought fresh steamed lobsters from a local lobster pound. We walked along the rocky Maine coastline, and went shopping at a local department store for ear warmers and long sleeved t-shirts, in preparation for the coming cold.
And then I felt stuck again. We didn’t have reservations or a definitive route after Maine, though we had been planning to go through Vermont to upstate New York, to visit Cornell’s Ornithology Lab in Ithaca, and then head to Hawk Mountain for migration.
I was watching the daily foliage map and the temperatures, but I wasn’t feeling the pull to be in the mountains. I asked Marika to please help me figure out where we were heading.
I asked her, what do you want more of, and we both agreed we’d rather stay on the coast, in the sun, out of the forests and mountains, and that we could enjoy the changing leaves wherever we were.
But I had exhausted my resources and couldn’t find anything open, so I asked her to look. Somehow, she found a state park campground on the beach in New Hampshire that was open through the end of October.
We drove less than an hour south to our campsite, right at the confluence of the Hampton River and the Atlantic Ocean.
A friend said that, wherever two bodies of water meet, it is a Sacred Source. And I have been feeling it. I am breathing deeper, my mind is looser, and I’m aware of all kinds of letting go.
Without my Mac business, I’ve been wondering what my purpose is now, what will I do with my time and attention, and how I will get my feel-goods. I asked Marika what her intention was every morning, and she said, “To have a good time.”
I’m gonna try that.
We’re here until next Tuesday, and then we are heading back to the campground near the beach in Narragansett where it will be slightly warmer, and still in the sun. And it’s on the way back to New Jersey, where we are due for RV repairs at the end of the month. I’m a little disappointed that I won’t be able to fill in New York and Vermont on our state sticker map, but I’m OK with it.
Because I am so grateful to be in this place. I’m loving the solitude of my several times a day beach walks, and the sky has been glorious. It’s been a bit cold and windy, but I’ve got my ear warmers and layers, and the views are spectacular.
Counting Blessings
Blessings by Ruth Davis
Counting Blessings
Our volunteering gig at the refuge in New Jersey is officially over. I worked my last shift at the Visitor Information Center on Saturday, and it was a full and fulfilling day. We had 158 visitors and sold more duck stamps, park passes, and gift shop items than any other day I’ve been there. We loaned out binoculars, showed the wonderful video, and helped folks identify what birds they saw on Wildlife Drive. I enjoyed the women I worked with, and I even teared up on my walk home.
That night we went out for Rita’s ice cream with our neighbors who live down the street. We’ve had dinner with them twice and chat when we see each other walking our dogs. It’s been fun to connect with people in the neighborhood.
And now today, Sunday, is a readying day: laundry, more laundry, packing the mosquito tent, taking out the maps. Marika is on an all-afternoon birding boat tour to watch migrating hawks. I am so thrilled that she is doing this. She’s enjoying a day in nature and I can move at my own pace and get it all done.
In between laundry cycles, I’ve been thinking about all of the blessings of this time here. That those first few weeks were all about settling into working with very-different-than-me people, not having any control over how anything worked, and finding ways to share my insights and skills without expectations.
And then, finally appreciating the heart of the job: interacting with the visitors. I think working a shift with Marika really opened me up to engaging in conversations and exchanges, and providing a friendly, welcoming environment.
From that day on, I was able to focus on these connections even when I was working with someone who I didn’t really vibe with. The challenge was that, many days, there were only 25-40 visitors in the entire five-hour shift. So there was a lot of down time. But I found ways to make it work, and even did a few extra projects, like counting volunteer shirts and hats, tallying how many volunteers are under 35, and emptying the lending library into boxes for donation. Nothing very challenging, but it was the perfect backdrop for being here, exploring the area, and closing my Mac training business.
The big reason we chose to volunteer in New Jersey was so that Marika could spend time with her last living aunt. We spent a few nights in Philadelphia and I finally got to meet Marika’s cousins, and then Marika drove up several other weekends to overnight with her aunt.
I got together with sixteen cousins and my last living uncle, and bonded with my favorite cousin from when I was three years old.
We handled all kinds of RV repairs- the new air conditioner, the water leak (twice), and the leveling jacks that won’t go down. (The repair parts are on order and we’ll be swinging back through New Jersey at the end of October to get it fixed.)
We did some fun touristing, had a great week with a visiting friend, and we each relived moments from our childhood on the Jersey shore. We drooled over real east coast pizza, Philadelphia pretzels, New York bagels, cheese steaks, local summer produce, frozen custard, fried shrimp, and live lobster, steamed at the supermarket.
And I met a Facebook friend in real life and we went to the Elton John concert together.
We have been camped in a most beautiful secluded place on a lake in the woods, still in easy reach of great food, museums, and all of the necessities.
And we finally took a glorious sunset walk on the beach!
And now we are heading out on the road, as tourists, to explore the color-changing landscapes of New England, learn about the Industrial Revolution, and eat lots of lobster rolls.
Yes, it’s been a wonderful three months, and I am so grateful that we both love living this lifestyle.
