Lessons From the Night Sky

My dad was visiting this past week; it was so fun having him here.
His trip was impromptu, and I didn't plan much, but we ended up doing  the coolest thing.
Every Saturday of a New Moon, Mt. Tamalpais hosts star gazers to check out the night sky through the astronomy club's telescopes.
This past Saturday was a clear, cool night
and eventually twilight started to give way,
and the stars began to pop.
We climbed a ladder to a giant telescope and saw a star mass-
a big cluster of millions of stars swirling around the sky.
We were shown a star that had burnt up and died -
leaving a hole in it's middle, clouded in a light blue hue. Sad.
We saw Scorpion's tail -
a constellation only visible in the summer months.
We peered through two different telescopes
to catch a glimpse of Saturn.
It looked like a little video game icon, but you could clearly see it's rings. Awesome.

We traced the outline of the Big Dipper and paused to stare at The North Star.

 Did you know, The North Star holds steady as the entire northern sky rotates around it?
I think that's so romantic. And amazing. That mighty North Star.

Waiting for the stars on top of Mt. Tam
Every few minutes, the astronomers would step in and readjust the lens and positioning of the telescopes.
So much movement, both in the sky and on earth, the stars and planets easily jump out of view.

My dad and I were speaking with one of the astronomers as the telescope was realigned,
and he said something that really struck me.
He remarked that we know so much about the ground we walk on,
and yet, the sky remains a mystery to so many people.
Rarely, do we ever look up.
And we should!
 Because it's the same sky up there, night after night.
If you ever feel a little lonely, take comfort in the fact that there is familiarity up above.

The same old smattering of stars, to help guide you on your way.
I thought a lot about this the remainder of the weekend.
There are so many things I am excited about in my life right now...
but simultaneously, these things bring confusion.
And there are variables that cloud my view.
It's hard to navigate, and I wish I had the patience of an astronomer.
But sometimes, just  like with the telescope, you have to let things settle a bit
before you can see what your looking for with a clear eye.
Happy star watching, friends.
xo

Chasing Sunsets

Last night, after I got home from work I had a lot on my mind. 

I could have easily sunk onto the couch 

but I needed fresh air and went out for a run.

Rather than run along the water, I decided to take the upper route through a neighborhood of big old rambling houses and sidewalks lined with trees with knotted branches and hot pink blooms.

The sky was starting to show signs of a beautiful sunset, 

and I wanted to chase it.

About halfway to the sky, I stopped to look out towards the bay and watch the clouds turn sorbet peach, pink and orange. 

A guy about my age was admiring the view too.

He was handsome. Settled in his stance. 

 He stepped towards me, explaining he had flown into San Francisco earlier that afternoon, 

but had to get to Humboldt County 

and was in need of directions to the train.

What he was doing – high above the city in this quiet, sleepy neighborhood – I don’t know. 

I talked him through his route. 

I explained that it was simple enough but would take him awhile, and dusk was quickly escaping into dark.  

His disposition was confident and kind with a soft-spoken voice.

The type of temperament that someone who relies on the guidance and help from strangers would have.  

When I told him it might take a bit of time to make his way downtown for the next leg of his journey, 

he responded that he had to walk, and that he didn't mind the dark or the cool air – his only degree of accountability was that he had to be at the next spot at six am.

And I loved him for that response.

And I envied him for his freedom to roam the open road.

Nothing to do but walk and watch and explore – 

all through the night with the simple task of getting to the next destination.

And then doing it all over again.

Happy trails to you, stranger. 

A Case of Cold Feet

I've got a case of cold feet. 

Which is a funny phrase when you consider it, 

because I actually feel really hot and a little bit itchy and all the time sweaty these days. 

I'm confused and not sure about anything anymore.

  I thought I knew what I wanted to do.

But now I'm really not so certain. 

I came out west at a time when I was craving adventure,

longing for change,

and dreaming of a shift in pace and scenery.

San Francisco, cool as ever, 

kind of tossed these things my way, real casual and nonchalant.

Well I took the bait.

image is my own; Big Sur

And all of a sudden I feel an overwhelming

desire to live out a life of Hemingway and Kerouac proportion adventure. 

I keep getting all choked up and panicky

and on top of picking away nearly all of my left eyebrow,

I've developed a habit of scratching at an itch that doesn't even exist on my neck.

If I'm being honest,

I'd say I'm about 50/50 moving forward with this move right now.

The trouble is, it's already been decided upon.

But... I have yet to sign that transfer paper due weeks ago.

Just like a compass that has lost it's way,

my head and my heart both went kind of cloudy. 

They're trying so hard-

 to tap back into that magnetic pull,

and find a way home.

xo

Summer’s End, and a Milestone

Mother Nature graced us with a fairly fogless summer in San Francisco; 

a real treat for those of us who savor the sun.

I was traveling more this summer than in those past, 

and that may explain why I feel like the season came and went in a snap.

I journeyed to the quiet of the mountains and dove into shockingly icy lakes.

I conquered one of the most intimidating climbs; 

 during which, my legs felt like jell-o and my mind wasn’t so certain, 

but with the encouragement from friends we crowned ourselves Half Dome Heroes,

taking in the panorama of Yosemite from what felt like the top of the world.

I hosted my little sister’s first trip to the shining seas of the Pacific.

Having her here granted me the gift of seeing my city through fresh eyes; 

it was darn near perfect.

I met friends in Southern California, 

here we ate seafood plucked straight from the ocean at which we gazed. 

We goofed around and reverted back to behavior from our collegiate days- 

a time in our lives which feels too far away in the past to be true.

Independence day brought me back to the mountains that now have taken permanent residence in my heart. 

We boated and basked and made questionable choices

but those after all, almost always result in the most fun. 

Dance-offs were danced, love was professed, speeches were made, adventures were had. 

image is my own

And then came the celebrations! 

Two summer weddings, one on the New England coastline, 

and the other nestled in the heart of Wine Country.

 I felt so lucky to play witness to joyful, blissful love.

Another guest came west in all her glowing glory. 

We dined like queens and drank like Kings. 

Together we marveled at the beauty of Northern California’s rolling vineyards.

And now, here we are. 

It’s been a goofy final month of summer: full of peaks and pits, chaos and calm.

There are many unknowns and even more ‘unsaids,’ 

some of which are up to me, but others, to the universe.

I’m closing out the summer with a few celebrations of my own. 

 I’m turning thirty.

And while I anticipated feeling a certain way about the milestone,  

 I actually don’t feel that way at all. 

And here’s the secret:

I look back on all the things that I’ve done and all the sites that I’ve seen. 

All the places I’ve gone, and the company that I've kept.

I think of the friends and family that have traveled across the country.

 And the friends that are right here in California,

who turn ordinary days into extraordinary.

I am blessed and humbled and incredibly grateful for the summer outlined above. 

To me, it reads like a great book...and I can’t believe it’s my great life.

Thank you all,  for making it so.

Here’s to thirty!

xo

A Little on My Mind, as of Late

My plane touched down last night to a calm and quiet California coastline.

I love the drive from the airport back home in the still of the night.

Even on the highway you can hear the waves of the bay lapping up against the rocks.

Paradoxically, the ride from Manhattan out to the airport leaves me feeling very blue.

 I usually spend this trip staring silently out the window,

 watching the city on my right shrink smaller and smaller against the skyline.

It’s like saying goodbye to someone you love, with no set plans to reunite- the worst kind of heartache.

Last night, it felt tremendous to turn the key, push open the door, and walk back into my apartment.

By the week’s end in New York, I was ready to come home.

(West Coast home Dad, if you’re reading this.)

I slept the entire flight- and actually most of the cab ride to JFK-both very rare occurrences for me.

I guess after a week back east there was no more party in me, and I succumbed to a still and quiet slumber.

In books and in movies people often struggle with the notion of loving two people at once.

But sometimes...sometimes I ask myself,

‘Is it possible? Is it possible to love two places at once?’

 ‘Does one’s heart have the capacity? The depth and the space to accommodate such devotion?’

Whenever I leave New York I feel a pit in my belly, like I swallowed a stone.

I feel like stammering out of the cab window,

‘It’s not you, New York! You did nothing, nothing wrong.

 It’s me! I’m all mixed up inside. Please, please don’t forget me.’

And steady as she is, New York opens her arms and embraces me-- each and every return trip I make.

No judgments.

No questions.

 Just a fond and understanding hug.

I am grateful for the patience and affection.

But sometimes it fuels my guilt for leaving.

 

image unknown 

While New York is like the old love that will always take me back;

San Francisco seems to be the city I just can’t seem to shake.

Bennett croons he left his heart here, and I think mine is very much understanding the appeal.

Life out West is a perpetual Never Never Land.

 It’s a cool older brother and ‘the one’ you hope never gets away.

It’s James Franco and a dream.

San Francisco and me?

We’re having a grand old time, coasting along and hand plucking adventures,

just as one chooses oysters a la carte.

The things I’ve accomplished in my life that I am most proud of?

Well, those have happened here, mostly.

That’s quite a mighty confession, I know.

I’ve done a lot of growing up. Conquered a lot of fears.

Plus, it smells really, really good here.

Like juniper and eucalyptus and honeysuckle all the time.

So I don’t know.

I’m either a really good candidate, or not cracked up at all, for love affairs.

Because this here and there mumbo jumbo can take quite a toll on this crimson heart of mine.

Maybe  one day, on one coast, the romance will fizzle,

but until then…

A life in love and limbo is what I lead.

xo

Happy Anniversary to Me

Two years ago today,

I tilted my compass west and set out for San Francisco. 

My dad observed that my last six months have probably been my best.

I don’t know if that’s because I’ve hit my stride or what exactly,

 But I think he might be right.

Regardless of the these past six months, or the past 24 months and counting,

it’s been redwood tree hugging, mountaintop climbing, and pacific ocean gazing ever since. 

 image is my own; Sonoma sunset

There have been countless lessons and blessings along the way,

but the one I’d like to share with you is this:

Fill your days with chance taking and adventuring seeking, 

and I promise you- you'll live a life free of regret, and full of wonder.

Here’s to allowing your heart to guide the way.

Happy weekend, friends.

xo

Two Feet, Planted Firmly

This past Sunday I received a piece of unsolicited advice 

that admittedly,  caught me off-guard at first listen. 

But, things take a little time to sink in, settle, and absorb,

 and I realize it was one of the more valuable observations delivered to me... maybe ever. 

I was invited to a Sunday supper in a beautiful, sun flooded, airy home 

with a backyard and fresh cut flowers on every table.   

My fellow dining companions were all strangers to me, save for the friend who extended the invite. 

The company was lovely, the food delicious and the conversation easy and engaging. 

 It was as we were shifting from drinks and hors d’oeuvres to dinner, 

that I was counseled on the energy I emote.   

Gently, it was expressed that I convey the perception that I have one foot in California, 

and one foot back on east coast soil. 

That I am not fully present here because, well, part of me is there.

I have always been vocal about my emotions and experiences 

moving across the country and being far away from family and familiarity. 

 image is my own

But I suppose recently, and more frequently, I have felt a stronger tug towards the Atlantic. 

What surprised me though, was learning the impressions people developed about me and my mindset, 

when I communicated these feelings.  

 I wasn’t aware of the transparency of my expressions, because I am not sure my mind- or my heart- are caught up with the words tumbling from my mouth.

Hearing this observation was enlightening because, 

although I am candid about my belief that I will go back east at some point, 

I didn’t realize it led people to think I wasn’t fully committed to my life out in California. 

I want to be here. now.  

 I want to be present,  

 with two feet planted firmly to the ground, 

where I am right now. 

I regret that I haven’t been projecting that, but grateful to have been made aware. 

I have been feeling in limbo as of late.   

Unsure of what is to come, frustrated with the things I can’t control, exhausted by the weight of the unknowns.  And while I don’t have power over many of these worries, 

I can manage how I embrace the wonders of every day, 

and every delight- 

no matter where my feet may be.