Posts Tagged ‘chaise lounge’

Get Out of Dodge!

August 1, 2015

Or at least San Francisco.

It’s actually happening.

I am, in fact, going to go to Yosemite tomorrow.

Like early.

Way early.

I’ve just finished packing, I’m only going for tomorrow and half of Sunday, so it wasn’t a hard trip to pack for, just a quick down and dirty, and fortunately for me, I have a bunch of Burning Man food staples in my cupboard, so I just raided that guy.

I’ll need to replenish a little when I get back, but I got time.

Not much time, granted, but some.

Time.

I spent some of that precious coin today.

I read for five hours.

Five.

Well, maybe more like four, I took a couple of breaks for the bathroom and to have lunch, but I really kicked it out.

I have, in fact, completed the reading for one of my classes for the retreat, that will also go beyond the retreat.

One of the classes, I realized after looking over the syllabi, is only during the retreat–a sort of seminar on Yoga and the practice of meditation–for which there is only one book.

It’s still a book that has to be read by the end of next weekend, but I can do it.

The really big reading, I got out-of-the-way today.

Things to think about as I go forward, and I”m just ruminating here, I need to find a more comfortable reading position.

Although I do find it hella funny that I am studying psychology texts from a chaise lounge.

I’m already set up with my “office” furniture.

Freud would approve, I’m certain of it.

The other is a realization that I have don’t have the same coping mechanisms as I did when I was in undergrad.

Namely blowing off steam by going out and drinking with a bunch of my co-workers from the Angelic Brewing Company.

I didn’t rely on drinking to get me through undergrad.

Or did I?

I know that I was a maintenance drinker and I daily drank, I ran a brewing company, it was inevitable that I would be drinking the beer, but I kept it to a “dull roar” I never had more than five pints per shift, and the majority of that drinking was in the late hours of the evening, I didn’t really drink on the job, once in a while a shot.

I drank when I was done counting out the money.

And the king was in the counting house counting out the money/while the queen was in her chamber eating bread and honey.

I didn’t want there to be any question as to the reliability and the integrity of my word while I was securing the tills and the check outs from the various bartenders, waiters and waitresses, the cocktail staff, even the door money which I had to count and distribute to the band that was playing that night, or to the promoter or dj.

I was responsible to a fault.

But I did drink and I had that valve to release steam.

And I often procrastinated to the nth hour.

I am extraordinarily efficient and could manage to write a fifteen page paper on King Henry the V and do it in one night and get an “A” on the paper.

I don’t, obviously, want to employ those kind of tactics to my graduate degree.

I figure, as I have so well learned over the last ten and a half years, that the slow daily progress, the sustained, continual effort, is what is going to work the best for me.

Small chunks, small steps, always moving forward.

Always doing a little something.

And some of the work is going to be easier than others.

The reading I completed today was super dense and had a new theory or concept every other paragraph.

Fortunately I am not finding anything beyond my comprehension.

A few concepts I can see I will need to go back and review them to remember and recall with efficiency and adequate understanding before heading into the first class dynamic, but I’m getting the material.

I’m also very glad that I didn’t put off the reading.

It was up in the air whether my friends and I were going to be heading out, hinged on a couple of factors, and so instead of thinking, oh, well, I’m probably going to be here in town, I can wait until tomorrow or Sunday to do the reading, I saw my spot today was clear, no work (at least not the kind where I draw a paycheck) and I sat myself down on that chaise and got to it.

I’m so grateful that I get to do this.

I remind myself that this is an astounding gift, if life were fair, I would not be in graduate school.

If life were fair.

Well.

I’d be dead.

Circumstances being what they are in my life, I have been graced and given another (umpteen it would seem) chance to do it right.

Doing it right is also taking the calculated risk, the jump, the leap, the sure, I’m ready, let’s do it, last-minute drive to Yosemite, I’ve never been, what a way to say goodbye to July and hello to August.

Because August is its own monster of a month and well, let’s see it come in like a lion.

It will go out like a Burning Man.

I already know that.

Or perhaps I should say, let it come in like a bear, I hear there are some bears out in Yosemite.

The month of August will hold my “normal” work week, next week, then an eight-day retreat for school in Petaluma, then a five-day work week in Glen Ellen (I haven’t figured out exactly how that’s going to transpire, I may not even come back to the city to only turn right back around to go work in Glen Ellen while the family takes its last summer vacation before the boys start school), after Glen Ellen, I come back, work another week in the city, then end that by leaving for Burning Man.

Oh.

And I have papers due by August 23rd from the work at the retreat and from the reading I just wrapped up today.

Yeah.

Busy month.

So.

The pleasure is all mine to say.

Adios! Good bye! Farewell! See ya!

I’m going off the grid for the next 36 hours, I’ll be back Sunday.

Have a great weekend!

Serenity by the Sea

September 15, 2013

“It’s so peaceful out here,” my ladybug said to me this afternoon as we walked from Trouble Coffee back to my place.

It is indeed.

I sat on the back porch twice today for my meals.

Lunch and dinner al fresco, the sun broke through the fog, the ravens took wing swooping and diving and occasionally deigning to sit upon a roof top and survey the world with bright eyes before careening off into the blue sky again.

I woke up rested in my new bed, ate a leisurely breakfast, did some writing and then a hot shower, coffee, and the meeting of minds at the coffee shop.

I caught a ride to the Upper Haight with her and went grocery shopping, returning via the N-Judah with sacks of supplies to eat my lunch on the porch right outside my door.

It is really sublime to open the door and step out to the sun and hear the crash of the surf and smell the ocean, just there, just a few blocks down, three to be exact, and feel so calm, so relaxed.

So serene.

After lunch I chit chatted with my friend, landlord, room-mate, but not really room-mate, our spaces are pretty autonomous even though we have a common entry way, there is enough space between her space and my place.

Yet, it is also near enough and open enough that I can just holler up the stairs and see what she is up to.

She had busy work, her weekends are geared to work and her daughter was recovering from a slumber party, who sleeps at slumber parties?  They should be called up all night and giggling parties, and she was pretty chill with her My Pretty Ponies corralled up in a nest of cushions on the floor.

Not a bad way to spend a Saturday afternoon.

I checked in with my friend about furnishings she said I could borrow for the in-law and I showed her the new set up, my bed basically, and how the space was shaping up.

I got the go ahead on the chaise lounge in the garage and the next thing you know she has dusted off two chairs and pulled out a shabby chic beach blue table with folding leaves, and a couple of night stands and voila!

I am totally set up.

It is amazing.

I have a home.

It feels a tiny bit like a motel room to me as everything is so brand new and clean and un-marked.  I have not put any art on the walls or photographs.

I am awaiting the right time to go out to a friend’s house way out in the Excelsior and get my boxes out of storage–photos and art and notebooks, my grandfather’s spice rack, and if I am not mistaken a couple of lamps.

When those things are procured I will have my space fully realized.

That and a rug, a throw pillow for the chaise, and a soap dish for the bathroom.

And that’s it.

I have  a home.

I have a home I want to stay put in, for a long time.

This feels like home in a new way and in an old way too.

“I grew up in the bay area and my first memories are of the beach,” I told my ladybug as the sounds of the Beach Boys was playing at Trouble Coffee.

“I feel like I have come all the way home, after a very long meander,” I finished, sipping the hot Americano and looking out the door at the light in the sky.

That special kind of light that bounces off the water and paints the  buildings in sand washed warmth.

When the last tweaks on my in-law were done and I had a cup of hot tea in me I decided it was time to take my inaugural walk to the beach.

I slipped off my Converse and socks and put on a pair of polka dot flip-flops and headed to the ocean.

Flip Flops

Polka Dot Flip Flops

I took them off as soon as I hit the sand and climbed up the dunes to the crest to see the sea spread before me, splendid and board, all-encompassing, shattered with light and sunshine.

Sand Dune

Sand Dune

Pacific Ocean

Pacific Ocean

I breathed in deep.

Delighted to be here, the crash of the waves drowning out any noise in my head.

I understood in a split second why, early into my sobriety, I was drawn to the sea.

The noise was louder than the noise in my head.

The serenity of not hearing the constant monkey wrench grind of my thoughts and the chitty chitty bang-bang of useless dreck being constantly manufactured.

Just the bash of the waves and the crescendo of the surf.

It created a kind of dream like meditative state.

I felt like I was walking in a silence that was deep and powerful and lulling.

The lullaby of the ocean.

How have I lived this long without that noise in my ears?

I walked out to the surf and got my toes wet.

The water swirled around my feet and my heart soared above me, a kind of delirious feeling of vertigo threatened to over take me and I swayed watching the clear bubbles draining away back to the ocean as the tide pulled back out.

Dogs splashed past me, lovers leaned into each other and laughed, sharing a private moment on the vast beach.

Lovers

Lovers

The sun and sky.

The wind and the water.

Tide

Tide

I wondered, as I took my camera and aimed it at a kite surfer, will I get bored with this?

Will it become blase?

Or will it continue to delight and soothe and comfort me?

I tend to think the latter.

I am grateful to be here and excited to see what develops in this land of sand and salt.

The tears in my eyes were probably caused by the wind pushing its way past my glasses, my vision blurred as I pointed the camera directly to the sun and shot another photograph.

Kite Surfer

Kite Surfer

My heart burst with the beat of the ocean and I brushed the moisture off my face, pocketing my glasses, I stood, eyes closed, surf rolling over my feet, and said a few words of grace.

For graced I am.

Blessed.

Loved.

Salt saturated.

Serene.

Home.

Home by the sea.


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