Mt. Washington and thoughts on nature

I spent yesterday afternoon with my brother and sister-in-law and CR. It was a day full of laughter and funny moments, and I am feeling particularly grateful this morning. It is Sunday, overcast, probably around 50 degrees outside and it is absolutely lovely in the calm, quiet of such a day. We are surrounded by the White Mountains of New Hampshire, and they are low, rolling and green. They do not have the majesty of the mountains in the west, but they are much older and have been eroding for so much longer. They have earned their stateliness. As I look at the Adirondacks, the Green Mountains of Vermont, and these, the White Mountains, I find myself intrigued by their age. I try to picture them younger, more craggy, more rugged, higher as they are in the west and I can almost catch the sight in my minds eye. But these mountains have been eroding for so much longer than the Rockies or the Olympics have been "alive". They have a different peace to them. They are home to incredible animals and incredible plants. Yesterday we drove to the top of Mt. Washington in Gorham, which is where we are staying. It was a scary drive to me, but not to CR, Bobby or Betsy. That was fine; I kept my eyes closed to the top for the most part and I was able to swallow my fears. Once up at the top I am truly ok. I love the vistas, looking out at the rolling hills, the distant landmarks, the layers and layers of mountains surrounding. It fascinates me and inspires me; and it does instill in me a healthy fear and reverence for the beauty and wildness of it all. We ended up having to leave sooner, rather than later, however, because the weather settled in over us; the clouds that were below us met with the clouds above and a cold, heavy with moisture rain came with this meeting. Mt. Washington, interestingly enough, is proud to be "home" of the worst weather in the world. It proudly proclaims to be the record holder for the highest ever recorded wind gust in the world; 231 miles per hour. To me, gusts of 30 can be breathtaking and a bit pushy. I cannot fathom what it must have been like at the top of a mountain 6300 feet in the air being pushed around by such winds.

Brave people settled our world and helped to tame it to what it is we know know. Someone was the first to come here to America - even farther back than European settlers. I am not discounting early man and early spreading of humanity. I am thinking of more recent settlers; those that came within the past 600 years. They were so courageous to begin such a journey at such a time in history. There were no modern conveniences; no heated cabins, catered food, no long hot showers. It is required for me to have clean underwear, a place to take a shower; a toothbrush, potable water - even, pretty much, a bathroom. I am basic, but I am pampered and I know that I am not the most un-hardy person out there! So these brave souls - women in skirts, bearing children, caring for families, ventured into the unknown and came here. They slowly settled across the country enduring hardships I cannot even begin to fathom. And here we are, more than 500 years later sitting at the foot of a mountain that was explored by horse, wagon, mules back 150 odd years ago. Brave men cut trees, blasted boulders with black powder in order to arrive at the top of this particularly high (by eastern landscape standards), treacherous mountain, and they created a road in their wake. Was it just to do it? Some trapper or adventurer had made it to the top prior to that. I believe it was first explored because it was believed that precious metals or stones might be discovered, but the truth is, those shining rocks are mica and quartz, common and nothing of any real monetary value. So, here we are, so many years later, climbing the mountain in the comfort of our cars, sheltered (mostly) from the impending, inevitable storms. We are imagining those early settlers; those brave, hearty souls who climbed in previous years and spent the night in the old hotel at the top. Those brave, hearty souls who stay there all winter recording and measuring wind gusts, snowfall, other storms. It is breathtaking and amazing and impressive all at once, and as much as I like to think I like to adventure, the thought of doing all that work and experiencing true fear - alone on a mountaintop in the middle of winter, not able to go down, measuring the worst weather in the world? Nothing scary there. The truth is I am much more pampered and much less brave.

It makes me feel a bit small and insignificant, put into that kind of perspective. I don't mean that in a self-deprecating way. I know and can admire and value my own strengths. I can learn recognize and work on my own weaknesses. The insignificance I mean is what it means to be in awe of nature and the thoughts and feelings that can invoke and inspire. We are such small beings on the face of the earth, and really not only our planet but in the universe. It is humbling. It shows me that the problems of the world? All the strife occurring now - our president and his funky shenanigans, the mental state society seems to be in; the anger, the ire, the what-about-me mentality; the me-first-and-to-heck-with-you way of thinking and living? All that seems just so basic and so silly and so unnecessary. All around us we live on this lovely planet. Nature goes on, despite our best efforts to tame it and make it do our bidding. It scoffs at us, really. The rain still rains. Trees still grow. Animals live, eat, procreate, survive, and die. It is the cycle of things; it is how it should all be. It seems so cliche, and yet it is all so basic. I cannot think cynical about the world as a whole. Yes, people do bad things to our world, to each other, to nature. And yet it seems to struggle on. One day humankind will not be here. One day these trees and rocks, animals, plants - all that will be gone. That is the cycle. New things will come and replace what we know, what we hold scared. It is the natural order of things and it is refreshing to truly believe that is just how it really needs to be.

CR and I

My brother and Sister-of-my-heart

Peace of Mind

Yesterday I was writing of destiny after high school graduation; where it is that the path life takes us, and where we think we are going, but really, where it is we actually land as we go into the future. Today, 38 years after graduation, I am considering life changes. I feel as if I have been on a fact seeking mission, looking for my next step in life. I know I want to leave Florida – temporarily for right now, permanently eventually, maybe? CR (Current Reality) talks of moving out west to Washington state. I love it out there immensely. It is a life I can see for myself. I would be secure, but at what cost? That is a decision. There is also the fact that I am just not sure that CR will actually ever move. He has been talking of it now for probably 10 years, yet he is making no move to make it there, to make his dreams come true. He is a big dreamer, and there is nothing wrong with that. But dreaming and ambition do not always go hand in hand, and I think ambition is what is lacking. Interestingly, I have been thinking of the men I have known in my life. My dad did not have ambition, but when he was young he had drive and determination. He did not ever sit idle and wait for life to come to him; he brought himself to life. He seems to have led a pretty contented life. He made bad choices and good, but he does not seem to have any regrets about where he is right now. My father-in-law was a big dreamer. He had so many unrealized dreams, and when he died he took them with him, along with his regrets about not getting what he wanted. He sat and he stewed about things that happened to him in the past, and how he never achieved what he really wanted to. He schemed, he planned, he drew plans on old coffee stained napkins, paper plates, receipts - whatever was in front of him. He knew what he wanted to accomplish, but he never had the drive to do it. FR (Former Reality) was originally content to be in his own life. He wanted things that money could buy, and he made it happen, slowly over time. But slow living and conflicting money dreams consumed him, to the point his wishes and ambitions became huge and took over his life, his reality, his personality. He continues to seek today, and he always will, I believe. And then there is CR. Who wants something other than the hand life gave him, but he does not know how to make it happen. He is a good person with simple dreams, but he is very strong-minded and extremely intelligent. He does not want a lot; he has a lot but is not content with what he has or where he is in life. He is a bit insecure in a lot of ways. Inside is a sweet little boy who wants to please, who wants to be loved and happy. Outside he shows bluster and bravado. His attitude is that he doesn't need anyone and the world is all wrong. If I had to guess, I would say that came about from being raised by a very strict, militant father and a weaker acquiescent mother. That is my Freud moment. So the question lies. Do I want that for the rest of my life? And without thinking I know the answer is a simple no. That is my dilemma. How long do I keep striding in the direction I am striding? I don’t feel he is holding me back. It just now popped into my head the thought that he has been keeping me on the path I am meant to lead without my even knowing it. I have not been strayed or swayed by excessive love or by taking a turn toward anywhere but where I am supposed to go. I was not meant to fall in love and be consumed again; I had that early in my life and it lasted a long time. I was lucky in love, but it took me off my planned path. Still, my destiny has been leading me to the here and now, and to what sort of decision I will make toward my next step. CR has been keeping me real and allowing me to be my self. That is really an amazing thing to realize. People have so often asked me why I stay with him, and I always say I am not sure, but I feel he is safe and he loves me; he just lets me be who I am. Honestly, who could ask for more?

This trip was meant to refresh, relax and recharge me. It is good to have these moments alone in the mornings in order to reflect on that. I am grateful. I have been drawn toward where it is I believe I will decide to be next. Maybe it will be in northern New York somewhere. Not Black Lake area, not Phoenix. But some place like Lake Placid, or one of those mountain towns. Maybe Plattsburg. Yes it is cold – that is the first thing that everyone always says when they speak of living in the north, or of me moving someplace outside of Florida. Yes it is, thank you for your input. I am drawn there, though. I need to research what sort of jobs there are, what sort of income is involved. I am planning, right now, to keep my house and to rent it out through an agency. It seems no fuss to me. Yes, there are fees and possible risks, but I am willing to do that in order to have it safely watched over. Eventually maybe I will sell it; it is my biggest financial asset. But for now, no. So that is one issue I feel confident in resolving. The right job will come along, and it will be the right thing for me. When the time comes the relationship issue and CR will also solve itself.

I think that is the goal I have been reaching for with this trip. Peace of mind, where I want to go, how to do it, what to do with my house. I feel somehow more calm now. I feel I can deal with the quirks of an odd travel partner. I feel like I can relax, my decision has been set a little more firmly in stone. I want to get away from Florida. I know that my person; me; is not happy there. I know that I have a good job, great friends, a beautiful home. But I am lonely and my heart is just not content. Being in the mountains, with cool air surrounding me, with nature, with family so much closer at hand – all of that has made my heart long for something different, something I think New York may be able to help with. It’s worth a try. And 38 years ago I was fresh faced, fresh minded, ready to take on the world, having no idea what was in store for me. There is not a whole lot I would change today. Having regrets is useless; there is no way to change the past. We can go forward and keep stepping into the future we are truly destined to live.

Perspective

I think travel and getting away from home is a wonderful experience. I love my summers off, and the ability that I have had to travel over the last few summers tells me how blessed I really am. It’s wonderful to have new experiences, even if you see some of the same places you have in the past. The days are all different; minds are different, sights look different; it’s all great to experience; same thing different day, different mindset. This summer for some reason my travel plans became a chore, rather than something to enjoy. I have not had much time to think of it before this moment, but I think the end of the school year just got too frantic, too much to do before I left and limited time in which to accomplish my tasks. But I am away now, and my perspective is changing.

These are the first moments that I have had to myself with time to clear my head and stop thinking about my sister and the drama in her life right now. She cannot help it, it just is life, but it is also not a part of my own life; I am just on the fringes. My heart hurtst for her. She has been in a sad place for a long time. She has a lovely husband, lovely children. She loves her job now, although she has not always in the past. She made choices that have made her life’s path not the easiest, but who of us does have an easy time of it, really? She’s had a best friend for many years now; as long as they have lived here in this house. Over the years she and her friend spent so much quality time together; they nurtured each other, but they also nurtured their own fears; it is the course of friendship; we seek familiar and we seek validation. They basically both feed from the same dish of life. They have long marriages, children the same age. Their husbands are both very old school; both demanding, yet both loving in their ways. Wives do the cooking, cleaning, kid care and so on. So they commiserated their sorrows and consoled each other that they were married to less than perfect men. So they were. It’s a slippery slope, that kind of commiseration. It is easy to see negatives and fears; sorrows, when someone feeds it back to you, and harder to see the glowing side of life. Like attracts like. They have had such a good friendship. They have been there for each other through thick and through thin. And now it does not really matter, because Kayse is terminally ill. She was diagnosed a month ago with pancreatic cancer. Just this week it has been determined that the possible months left in her life are more probably weeks. I feel terrible for all of them. I have been so glad Kayse was here for DeLaine through the years of their friendship. I am terribly sad for Kayse and for her family. It’s never easy and it’s never fair – and yes, I know. No one ever said life was fair.

I find myself looking around my sister’s home, and I am perfectly at home and comfortable here. It’s a small house, and it is crowded and dim. Her things are her.She is so beautifully crafty and eclectic. Lots of movies and books, lots of little things around that have made her smile so she left them where she could see them. On the other more difficult side I see procrastination; a trait in all of my family, I think. It is in home repairs, car repairs, her paying bills. Fixing a broken toilet, a broken window screen. But more. It is the piles of things she has all over. She is not a hoarder, but it is a small house, so it appears worse than it really is. I am not saying this to judge, but I am judging myself for those traits in myself. Stepping away from my own home, my own piles of things I can see them more clearly for what they are; a bit of a noose around the neck weighing life down. It encourages me even more, when I get home, to do more cleaning, more weeding, more minimalizing.

Which brings me back to perspective. It often takes getting away and exploring one’s own mind in order to shift perspective. When things are too close at hand we often observe through clouded vision. Stepping outside of our own world can sometimes be the catalyst we need for motivation to change our lives; to rid ourselves of traits or material things that have been weighing us down.

The minimalist movement is one I am a little skeptical of. I do agree, throwing away things here and there is a freeing thing to do. We do buy too much stuff. Continually. Marketing and advertising constantly change tactics to make us more insecure, more unsure of what it will take to make us happy. It is a gym membership, a yoga class, a new car, a new home. Need to paint? Replace cabinets? How about those mattresses that are so very expensive yet have only an eight-year life? Toss it; buy a new one. Fill up our landfills with more stuff because you have to replace your things so often in effort to keep up with the Joneses and all they have. There is too much stigma on newer, better, faster, smaller; new and improved! But I don’t want to toss out that antique furniture. I don’t want to have just one set of sheets. And my ratty underwear; any excess of clothes I never wear? Well who am I trying to impress, and I am certainly no different than any other person in our capitalistic society.

I started out writing words about perspective. It is about how changing scenery can change one’s life. I believe this from the bottom of my heart. I am content in the moments I am in right now. Here with my sister, while I am thinking about perspective. Thinking about the loss heading her way. I am happy to be here with her now; I miss her and I love her so much. I am quite content, also, to be facing a new adventure next week to familiar places. I have been to Black Lake – so many summer spent there as a child, and my happy place to visit as an adult. Traveling through New York as a tourist, on up to Maine to spend time there again. The beauty was majestic and I am looking forward to a new angle of looking at all that rugged coastline.

I am content with who I am. I am content with my life, even if my job is hard. I am content with summer travels wherever it is the wind takes me. I am content, in this moment, to be in the here and in the now.

Words, words, more words

Stories have such incredible power. They can control our lives when we allow them too. We can learn valuable lessons if we listen to the words of others. For as long as there has been communication, there have been stories. Long before there was written word, Paleolithic man used stories to survive. Language evolved through the telling of successful hunts which helped to better hone skills and become more proficient; to increase human dominance over nature and beasts. They used stories to tell of weather, of food to eat, of plants used for healing.

Eventually symbols were used as a common language; hieroglyphics helped create a more permanent record of daily life, stories celebrating the gods; a record for future generations to those who had the knowledge of the meaning behind the symbols. Eventually those early cuneiforms gave way to papyrus root being pounded, separated, then water was added, and the resulting pulp was stretched out to form the first paper. Words were recorded on rolled papyrus scrolls, written with ink made from plants. During later years, monks dedicated their lives to hand copying stories from ancient scrolls, or compiling and recording on paper tales passed down throughout the years. Eventually, in a comparatively short period of time, the printing press was invented around 600 years ago, and since then storytelling and communication have soared to new heights.

Words can have such an impact on our lives. Then can teach us lessons on how to better live our lives, they can hurt us or help heal if we allow it. Words are not concrete, yet they can be so full of weight they can change the course of lives.

I have been thinking of words all day today. We had a lazy day in which none of us really left the house. We were outside a good deal, but we did not leave the yard. We watched movies a lot today. The first movie we saw was called Riding in Cars with Boys. Drew Barrymore’s character is full of life and laughter. She bubbles over with fun and joy in the beginning of the story. Her father tells her to not be afraid to ask for anything; that he would give her whatever she wanted for Christmas. It is obvious that he means material presents. But Drew, in her childhood is not aware of this and she decides to tell her deepest darkest wish to her father; not that she wants a doll or toys to play with. She really just wants a bra to show off her new, budding breasts. She talks a mile a minute and she tells her father that is her wish; to have a bra for Christmas. Dad shuts her down and in turn, this shuts her down.  She learns the power of words; her father promises the moon and stars but cannot provide the most basic thing she needs; to be validated and really listened to. Words affected the trajectory of her life. It is fascinating that we rely on others validation so often. The phrase actions speak louder than words must truly have originated during Paleolithic times when an action would clearly save a life more often than a word would. We modern humans put so much stock in them.

In my thoughts about words and stories tonight I was thinking of J. K. Rowling and the Harry Potter series. What a brilliant use of words. I cannot imagine the world without Harry Potter in it, and he is a relatively new entity in the grand scheme of history. The words that flowed from J.K. Rowling’s mind are just an incredible feat. She described in minute details each aspect of each novel. It was easy to picture the castle, the classes, the Quidditch games, the red and gold of Gryphondor’s house colors. There is such a brilliance of the combination of characters from mythologies and religions, even old graveyards where many of the character names came from. It is every author’s dream to write the classic book that will be cherished for many years to come, and Harry Potter is one of those treasures. All of my own life I have wanted to create the Great American Novel. It is something I believe many writers imagine, just as actors dream of winning the coveted Oscar, or Grammy awards to musical talents.

Words do matter. They can change lives, improve and enhance our lives. They can make us or break us; Drew Barrymore’s character did not learn the life lesson about words until she was in her mid-30’s. Harry Potter learned that sometimes the words we are not taught matter the most; your parents loved you and gave their lives for you is a huge life lesson. I am thankful for the words given to me in my lifetime, and for how they flow from me onto paper or a computer keyboard. Words do matter.  

Family Time

I am at my sister’s tonight; for the next week actually. It has been a long 40+ hours. I woke about 6:30 Saturday morning, packed, cleaned, straightened, organized, ran errands. We left for the train depot about 4:45. It was delayed and did not take off until 8:30 at night. The night started good, but ended cramped and loud. People kept getting on the train and for some reason the passengers were all directed to the first few cars. There are probably 14 cars in all, and I am not sure why, but the ride from Lakeland to Columbia; 10 hours; is considered a short trip. Sleep for upright passengers and their comfort is not as crucial as it is in cars farther back. A passenger actually woke me up to sit in the seat next to me, and I sleepily asked her to try to find another. I was stretched out, it was 12:30 in the morning. The porter actually came back and shook me awake telling me I had to sit up. There were seats in the train empty, which I saw later when we landed here in Columbia. It was not a comfortable ride the rest of the way. People all around were chatting as they got on and off at various stops; really no consideration for others. It was not great, but I arrived safe and sound and that is what matters.

DeLaine and Cugie were right there to meet me and the discomfort was forgotten. We came back here for a while, and soon we had to leave to pick up their oldest granddaughter to go to the baby shower. Not my favorite time, attending those, but it was really quite lovely. I love my nephew and his wife and their two-year old daughter, along with his 11-year-old daughter. Their new little one, due June 27 is going to be one lucky little boy. My beautiful niece drove to the shower – in Rock Hill - as well, and I adore her. If I ever had a daughter, I always wanted her to be like Nikki. She is smart, savvy, sweet, kind, caring. She reminds me a lot of my mom; her face is long like mom’s, her fingers and hands even move the same way as my mother. Anyway, the shower was really nice. Lots of Mark and Katie’s friends, lots of little toddlers, Katie’s family; mine. We came back here and Katie and Mark came back and visited for a good long while, 2-year-old Nora (Norene Rilla) entertaining us, as cherished two-year-olds do. We had dinner after Mark and Katie left, and then we all stretched out in the living room, spent from the long day. I got myself re-organized for this coming week, decided it was time to write about the trip a little, and relax before sleep consumes me. I did doze a little on the train, but only from about 11-12:30. Not much at all.

DeLaine has a very dear friend, Kayse. They have been friends a really long time; pretty much since DeLaine and Cugie moved in here. Their kids are the same age and they all grew up together. They’ve been "couple friends" for a very long time; their husbands are friends as well. I knew from Facebook that Kayse was undergoing some health issues, and it turns out that it is far worse than imagined. She discovered about a month ago that she is in Stage 4 Pancreatic Cancer which has metastasized. She is undergoing treatment, but it is mostly about quality of life right now. There is not hope for a cure. I am so saddened for she and her family; for my sister. It is heart-breaking, devastating news for all of them. She had been DeLaine’s rock and anchor for as long as I can remember. To make it worse, Kayse’s husband is also sick. The doctors feel he has kidney cancer, and he, too, is very ill. Kayse’s step-father died yesterday. He had been sick, and death was imminent, but not expectd quite so quickly. It is a lot to take in for DeLaine. My sister is strong when she needs to be, although she is very emotional. She will be strong for Kayse, but it will not be easy, and after will be hardest of all. I cannot stop thinking of Kayse. How her life, just a few months ago, was secure. She was confident in her marriage, her children, her grand-children. And now she has to face the reality that life is all-together too short. Nikki told DeLaine that we all have to die. So true and so astute. But none of us want to think about it happening before we are truly done with living our lives.

I love living life. I love looking for good things to occur, for blooming flowers, for sunshine, rainbows. For light to shine. I know it can be hard and often so uncomfortable, yet it is all so worth it. I know one day it will be my turn to look at the world and know my time is short and I will have to make peace. I am not afraid, but I also am not done living my life. My heart hurts for Kayse and her family; for DeLaine and Cugie. But I am also grateful that they have had a long and wonderful friendship. Many people are not blessed with such beauty in their lives. We can consider ourselves lucky when we find such lights in our lives.

Riding that Train

This has been such an up and down week. Full of emotions and chaos and decisions. Fresh from last weekend’s retreat I was set and ready to stay steady, calm, Zen really. All meditative. Life is what happens when you are busy making other plans, for sure.

I am so grateful for the opportunity to have the retreat with me still. The lessons I learned are in my heart, but it was hard to keep all of that in my right mind throughout the week. I am reminded of my trip to Italy. That trip changed my life, then, and forever. It is ingrained in my heart, my memories, and in my soul. I had such life altering experiences, yet when I came back, even before the dust and jet lag settled my mother died. I could not properly reflect and revel in my experiences. So many people wanted to know what happened along the way, each detail, sight seen, food tasted, senses ignited, but it was hard to remember with any recall or any thought that would mask the raw emotion of losing my mother. It was all lost for a while, but eventually it came back and the details were as sweet as the actual memory making was. Mom would have hated that, for sure, that delay in sharing. I know how proud she was of me and my adventure. I know she knew how I came back so much more healed and so much more ready to face my new life; I shared that with her on the phone in our last conversation. It was all about new beginnings and experiences.

The retreat was very much like that.  A new beginning. New “tools” (although that word really is so over used these days) to help me experience life and its challenges. It was calm and restorative for me. There was not an overarching theme for me. I set the intention of clearing the clutter of work, and shaking off all the emotions absorbed through the end of the year traumas and dramas of working in a Title 1, Renaissance school. Big emotions. Kids need routine, structure, security, stability. These are basic functions required to live a life that will thrive. These are things I took for granted as a child, and most of the people I know did as well. Without these basic needs being met children fail to thrive, fail to grow, fail to gain life skills needed to cope in the world. They learn survival techniques. Smash and grab, in a way. So school, for them, is often a haven they are not even aware of. They get two guaranteed meals a day. They get attention – good or bad. They are cared for and loved, even if they do not recognize it for what it is. It is undeniably understandable that they dread the end of the year – facing two months off without stability, meals, attention. All those fears come crashing in and their behaviors escalate. On the last day of school when kids are normally so thrilled to be off for two whole months, many kids at school are in hysterics, sobbing, crying, worrying about the future and the summer, and all of those needs not met come crashing back in on them.

                                                                       

My wish and desire for the retreat was to get rid of all that pent up angst absorbed from those last few weeks. And it worked. I was calm and quiet all weekend; meditative and reflective. It was amazing. I was a bit off kilter when I got home; just sort of a culture shock kind of thing, for lack of a better word. The quiet and calm of the woods and the retreat were amazing. My house is quiet and wonderful, but it has a different feel. I got back late in the afternoon Monday and went to work Tuesday morning. There was a lot of chaos at work; the wireless was out; the electrician was there. There was a lot to be done, and I did not get it all done, despite my best efforts. I had to leave to take my car back to the shop and it was raining. Bad vibes after the car dealer, then trying to plan my summer trip turned into a huge effort. I lost my Zen for sure. Wednesday was a little better, but I was without my car until they gave me a rental so I could get to work the next day – which ended up my last day, thank goodness! It’s just been a week, and I am glad today is Saturday and it is all behind me.

I am on a train. Train travel is pretty fun, I think. There are some very strange people on trains – even more so than airports. There is an older woman sitting kitty-corner from me; she reminds me a bit of Doreen from my book group. There are a bunch of other folks on the train; all ages and walks of life.  A group of kids just came walking through trailing a gentleman; dad, chaperone? It is hard to tell. A very strange kind of scary character came huffing through the car a little while ago. He was moaning and groaning, talking to himself. He threw his bag in the bin overhead, settled in and starting moaning. The woman turned her head and we both locked eyes and raised our eyebrows. I have been afraid to look behind me, but it appears that last moan took him back where he came from to a different car – or maybe off the train, because he was a lot scary.

The train is taking me to Columbia to visit my sister DeLaine for this next week. It is such an inexpensive way to travel, and I am rather taken with it, especially after last summer’s Syracuse to Toledo adventure. The seats are roomy, I have two to myself. The leg rests are awesome, the windows huge. The tray table pulls down and slides forward. Right now we are stopped in Kissimmee, so the lack of swaying is good. Typing as the train moves is a little like the movie Contact. Remember when Jodie Foster was in the pod getting ready to take off after they built the time travel pod? It was shaking and rattling her teeth as the machine counted down? That is train typing. It is kind of amusing.

I am on the road to getting my Zen back tonight. I am on the train all night; it is a 10 hour ride, and we left about 40 minutes ago, so I have a lot longer to go. But it is good. I have a book, I have water, I have my red pashmina and a pillow. And I am on vacation, on my way to see my sister. Next week the wind will blow me north to New York to see my family, with further talk of a visit to Acadia in Maine. I am feeling relaxed and refreshed. Namaste.