I live in the most magnificently, impossibly beautiful place on earth. I do not know how I ended up here or how I know I belong in this place, right now, but I do. (I reach for the camera… where??? Heaven knows.)
I had a crisis of trust today. 4:something pm and I have not accomplished all I intended. I do not know where I will be living in six days. I am lonely and unsure. About everything. How have I put myself in this situation? What to do? I know, in my heart and being, that trust and joy and perfection is available to me right now. But how to simply abandon the fear? The fear feels real.
I want to eat chocolate and nap. I do eat chocolate. I check e-mail and do half-hearted work instead of nap. I decide to read the blog of Laura Diamondstone, our current Big Sur Artist-in-Residence who I have been actively involved in getting here for an 8-week residency through the Big Sur Arts Initiative. I fall into her words and experience so far. Her appreciation for this place overflows like a blessing. I am so profoundly grateful to live in a place where everyone recognizes the majesty. It is lost on no one who has eyes. And there is always someone who is remembering when I’m not, who can help bring me back. Today it is Laura. She helps me remember, and I get up to go on a walk.
Small, stingy tears start leaking, as I take my steps and listen to the perfectly human voice that comes forth. This voice of such an understandably fearful, human girl who just wants to know where she will be living on Monday and how the money will come in if she follows her heart. Who misses companionship and wants to turn back around on this lonely and beautiful road every time she thinks of mountain lions and loose dogs. She picks up a rock and keeps walking.
Her want and will to surrender to trust is inexplicable and powerful. She needs to know that there is an easier, more aligned alternative to life than to arm-wrestle it. More leaking. She walks by the broken house. The house that after architects and planning and county soil specialists and permit approval, broke right in two when the ground slid out from under it, only weeks before it was to be occupied. The house that with the best laid plans, now sits empty, broken and caught up in lawsuits.
She makes a deal with the universe. One week. One week she will give herself and her heart entirely over to life. She will banish worry and fear with absolution. She will not let either make a single decision and she will walk through every door open to her that aligns with her intention. No matter what. If it does not work, if nothing opens, she will go back to arm-wrestling.
She sees a loose dog and turns around. Then remembering, no fear decisions, turns around again. She stands and faces the dog. She asks silently and respectfully for passage and walks more steps. The dog stays looking. She soon feels the natural cadence of her journey close, nods appreciation and goodbye to the new Aussie Shephard friend and without fanfare, turns to start the climb back up the dirt road.
The sporty red car of friend Christian turns the bend and is coming toward. The crunchy roll of dirt and gravel under the wheels is reassuring. The girl smiles and waves and he stops. She leans in the window and he tells her she is beautiful, walking on the road. She says the view makes her look good. They chat and within three sentences are negotiating her next house-sitting gig. She will move in on Saturday. She has 12 more days of bed and home while he is in Maui. She throws the rock back to the mountain and follows him down to his house, taking careful mental notes on dog food, sprinkler systems and TV remotes. He tells her there is a light around her. That it is strong and powerful and fortuitous. She hears the universe smiling and thanks him and it and herself and looks out at the sunset.
There is a fox and a wood spider waiting for her at home, and she greets each of them before they go along their way.