I started from Bay St Louis on 11/10 for LA. Apparently, I wasn't ruminating much on that leg of the trip, but when I started from LA, I started to dictate "notes from the road" again. What follows are just random thoughts that surface while I drive.
11/16
I feel tears of gratitude well up that my beautiful daughters have found men who complement them and their lives so well. I feel that all of them have the necessary tools to grow together into the future.
I last traveled the stretch between Los angeles and Las Vegas on July 4. Today it is at least 40 degrees cooler than it was then.
I'll tell you what: when you drive through multiple time zones, first one direction and then another, Daylight Savings Time changes are moot.
LA friends, what is the phenomenon in the air today? Is it smog? I thought, once I got outside the ring of hills, that it would disburse; but I am on highway 15 almost to Barstow, and I still see this haze surrounding me.
It's a little disturbing to go over things called Los Angeles River and Mohave River that have absolutely not one drop of water in them.
Quote from a Las Vegas disc jockey: "It's chilley out there! It's 74 degrees!"
Arguably the most beautiful thing everywhere I've gone has been the play of shadows over the landscape. Metaphor?
Driving into the night feels different than driving into the light. Of course, in the morning i will be driving into the light again. Metaphor? Driving west feels like chasing the light. Driving east feels like having it discover me.
The brilliant enormous (my spell check wrote E Normas) moon, swathed in clouds, an abstract, stained glass in the sky.
11/17
Hacienda Mendez Mexican and American food in Wamsutter. It was good.
The raging winds, like a demented housekeeper, polish the roads with the snow.
I would say that over 90% of the traffic along I-80 in Wyoming is big rigs. More than traveling in any other part of the country, this stretch shows me how much we depend on carbon-based fuel driven vehicles to transport our goods. I realize that drivers wouldn't be very happy if we figured out another way to do this, but I do think it's something that needs to happen.
11/18
The sunrise this morning is like nothing I have ever seen before. no panorama view could give the impression I'm seeing with my eyes and my heart. The lightly dusted, yellow grass-covered hills in the foreground, and the sky everything from faded misty blue to brilliant pink reflecting off from tiny Duran clouds.
Radio commercial to get rid of "wild and crazy cedar trees" in your pasture. The speaker was using the "wild and crazy guys" attitude from Steve Martin, but had an Hispanic accent.
I was just thinking again about Alice and Chuck and how much she misses him. I'm glad I had a chance to tell her that I wanted to say how proud he would be of her when she had her name on the poster for a movie recently, but I didn't because I didn't want to bring her down. She and I talked about how difficult Abby's wedding may be for all of us who loved him. And I suddenly realized how much fuller my life is because I am able to empathize so deeply with other people. I'm not saying that I know how they feel. There is no way for us to know whether we experience the same things as someone else, without actually reaching the place where ego is dissolved and we exist as one. For one thing, language gets in the way. It is difficult to describe emotional experiences, especially. But this I know: I feel for other people, and this gives me a greater depth of experience of the world.
Highway exit number 201 in Iowa goes to a town called What Cheer.
Mild nausea, but not, I think, from food. I have that "sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach" that comes from the fear, or shame, of having done something "wrong." After thinking, last night, about what this pad of protection over my abdomen might be protecting, this feeling of anxiety and shame in my belly seems to be giving me more information. When I question it, it tells me that it is the "should have known" place. It is the place where the "shoulds" live. And here I thought they didn't live with me anymore.
11/24
It's Thanksgiving. There is Christmas in the air. Decorations have been up around Grand Rapids throughout the week, to say nothing of the commercial venues where they've been up since at least Halloween. I have a strange feeling deep inside. This is a season of connection with other people, or at least it has been in the past.
And yet, I dread it. I do not share the giddy joy of the holiday. I don't know if I ever did ... perhaps as a child. First of all, i am not a Christian, so i don't celebrate the birth of Jesus at this time of year. Or perhaps I should say I only celebrate the birth of Jesus as the coming of light to the world, as the birth of any child portends.
As I enter the darkness of the year, i recognize that I lack motivation or sense of focus. The psychic reading I had during the summer felt so true. It was about acting with joy in ever choice I make, and teaching my lesson of love through music. Yet, here I am almost 6 months later, having done none of that.
On Monday, I will return to my "home" in Bay St Louis, to share space with Rick, who is not very compassionately interactive. I really think that, after Abby's wedding, I will go to California at least for a while. It just feels like a place where I could be happy and useful.
11/28
Possible sermon topic/title: The Dark in the Lightness
Somewhere north of Champaign, IL, I saw a pick-up truck on the shoulder and a young man with his thumb out. You don't see that much, anymore, because everyone has a cell phone and has called someone to come and help them. I stopped. Of course, my mind ran all the possible horrible scenarios, but my gut said, "These people need help. I will help them."
First we tried jumping the battery. That didn't work. So, one of the young men grabbed a gas can, and I drove him to the next exit where he filled it up, and we drove back. It was getting pretty dark by this time, and it took two of them to pour the gas into the tank, one tipping the can up, and the other holding the spout in place. (I failed to mention that it was raining and had been most of the afternoon, so the passing traffic was spraying water even as it fell from the sky.) Apparently, the gas wasn't enough, so we hooked the truck back up to my battery again. It took quite a while, but eventually the truck started. All were very grateful, and I am really glad I helped. My only regret is that my car smells like gasoline. There must have been some on the outside of the can. Yuck!
Senior Corps at nationalservice.gov
11/29
I drive on today. More thoughts as they surface.
11/16
I feel tears of gratitude well up that my beautiful daughters have found men who complement them and their lives so well. I feel that all of them have the necessary tools to grow together into the future.
I last traveled the stretch between Los angeles and Las Vegas on July 4. Today it is at least 40 degrees cooler than it was then.
I'll tell you what: when you drive through multiple time zones, first one direction and then another, Daylight Savings Time changes are moot.
LA friends, what is the phenomenon in the air today? Is it smog? I thought, once I got outside the ring of hills, that it would disburse; but I am on highway 15 almost to Barstow, and I still see this haze surrounding me.
It's a little disturbing to go over things called Los Angeles River and Mohave River that have absolutely not one drop of water in them.
Quote from a Las Vegas disc jockey: "It's chilley out there! It's 74 degrees!"
Arguably the most beautiful thing everywhere I've gone has been the play of shadows over the landscape. Metaphor?
Driving into the night feels different than driving into the light. Of course, in the morning i will be driving into the light again. Metaphor? Driving west feels like chasing the light. Driving east feels like having it discover me.
The brilliant enormous (my spell check wrote E Normas) moon, swathed in clouds, an abstract, stained glass in the sky.
11/17
Hacienda Mendez Mexican and American food in Wamsutter. It was good.
The raging winds, like a demented housekeeper, polish the roads with the snow.
I would say that over 90% of the traffic along I-80 in Wyoming is big rigs. More than traveling in any other part of the country, this stretch shows me how much we depend on carbon-based fuel driven vehicles to transport our goods. I realize that drivers wouldn't be very happy if we figured out another way to do this, but I do think it's something that needs to happen.
11/18
The sunrise this morning is like nothing I have ever seen before. no panorama view could give the impression I'm seeing with my eyes and my heart. The lightly dusted, yellow grass-covered hills in the foreground, and the sky everything from faded misty blue to brilliant pink reflecting off from tiny Duran clouds.
Radio commercial to get rid of "wild and crazy cedar trees" in your pasture. The speaker was using the "wild and crazy guys" attitude from Steve Martin, but had an Hispanic accent.
I was just thinking again about Alice and Chuck and how much she misses him. I'm glad I had a chance to tell her that I wanted to say how proud he would be of her when she had her name on the poster for a movie recently, but I didn't because I didn't want to bring her down. She and I talked about how difficult Abby's wedding may be for all of us who loved him. And I suddenly realized how much fuller my life is because I am able to empathize so deeply with other people. I'm not saying that I know how they feel. There is no way for us to know whether we experience the same things as someone else, without actually reaching the place where ego is dissolved and we exist as one. For one thing, language gets in the way. It is difficult to describe emotional experiences, especially. But this I know: I feel for other people, and this gives me a greater depth of experience of the world.
Highway exit number 201 in Iowa goes to a town called What Cheer.
Mild nausea, but not, I think, from food. I have that "sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach" that comes from the fear, or shame, of having done something "wrong." After thinking, last night, about what this pad of protection over my abdomen might be protecting, this feeling of anxiety and shame in my belly seems to be giving me more information. When I question it, it tells me that it is the "should have known" place. It is the place where the "shoulds" live. And here I thought they didn't live with me anymore.
11/24
It's Thanksgiving. There is Christmas in the air. Decorations have been up around Grand Rapids throughout the week, to say nothing of the commercial venues where they've been up since at least Halloween. I have a strange feeling deep inside. This is a season of connection with other people, or at least it has been in the past.
And yet, I dread it. I do not share the giddy joy of the holiday. I don't know if I ever did ... perhaps as a child. First of all, i am not a Christian, so i don't celebrate the birth of Jesus at this time of year. Or perhaps I should say I only celebrate the birth of Jesus as the coming of light to the world, as the birth of any child portends.
As I enter the darkness of the year, i recognize that I lack motivation or sense of focus. The psychic reading I had during the summer felt so true. It was about acting with joy in ever choice I make, and teaching my lesson of love through music. Yet, here I am almost 6 months later, having done none of that.
On Monday, I will return to my "home" in Bay St Louis, to share space with Rick, who is not very compassionately interactive. I really think that, after Abby's wedding, I will go to California at least for a while. It just feels like a place where I could be happy and useful.
11/28
Possible sermon topic/title: The Dark in the Lightness
Somewhere north of Champaign, IL, I saw a pick-up truck on the shoulder and a young man with his thumb out. You don't see that much, anymore, because everyone has a cell phone and has called someone to come and help them. I stopped. Of course, my mind ran all the possible horrible scenarios, but my gut said, "These people need help. I will help them."
First we tried jumping the battery. That didn't work. So, one of the young men grabbed a gas can, and I drove him to the next exit where he filled it up, and we drove back. It was getting pretty dark by this time, and it took two of them to pour the gas into the tank, one tipping the can up, and the other holding the spout in place. (I failed to mention that it was raining and had been most of the afternoon, so the passing traffic was spraying water even as it fell from the sky.) Apparently, the gas wasn't enough, so we hooked the truck back up to my battery again. It took quite a while, but eventually the truck started. All were very grateful, and I am really glad I helped. My only regret is that my car smells like gasoline. There must have been some on the outside of the can. Yuck!
Senior Corps at nationalservice.gov
11/29
I drive on today. More thoughts as they surface.
Alice and David return to LA after their jaunt to Boston over the Thanksgiving holiday, much to Harvey's joy!
Thanks to Annie for loaning me a dress to wear to church on Sunday! I had stored a bunch of winter clothes at her house, but nothing very dressy.
A photo sent to me of the Server Thanksgiving gathering in Boston.
My Thanksgiving "up north" in Glen Arbor, surrounded by Petersons. It was lovely.
The jigsaw pastime. I participated for a little while, but I need instant gratification, so I don't really have the patience for long puzzles like this.
Remy's singular focus on the tube at the bank drive through. He knows a treat is coming.
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