The coastal fog lingered much this week. I hadn’t left the property in days, except to hike. That restlessness that only fog can bring permeated through my body. It’s a funny thing that too much gray can do to a person. Sometimes, you can bask in it, read a good book, drink tea, write a blog entry, enjoy solitude and sometimes it traps you with a longing for excitement–cities, people, interaction.
I finally left the property to go to yoga, which has been my bliss as of late. This particular night was a new teacher, a flow, which I am reluctant to do, and the room was hot, really hot.
It only took a few minutes drive up and over the hill to see the sun. Instantly, my mood changed.
Yoga is 45 minutes away in a little hippie town, Fairfax, which is not on the ocean and always a good 10 degrees warmer. The class was amazing and as transformative as the sun on my skin. I find if I am in a funk, all I need is yoga and hip hop and life instantly turns around.
Throughly drenched in sweat and happiness post class, I drove blissfully home through the Marin countryside, the setting sun painting the pastoral landscape in amber hues.
My friend’s A and H had gone abalone diving that day and when I got home, everyone was working on processing the thick mollusks. You have to skin dive for these guys and by California law, you can only harvest 3 at a time and 24 in a season. They are illegal to sell, so the only way to get this delicacy is to dive for them. So, A is pretty hardcore.
I live in a very small community of 6 people and all hands were on deck, prepping for an abalone feast. A also brought back some sea vegetables-bowls full of the most beautiful nori I have ever seen. In Alaska, I was lucky to get a handful of ripped up nori but here in Nor Cal, it’s abundant.
The excitement of gathering your own food had been lost on me for a second as I jumped into socializing and city life but as I was prepping the nori to dry, I remembered this joy of gathering food from the land.
The abalone was amazing–succulent and buttery.
The night just got better with the arrival of E (my Evanstonian friend living in SF) and his wife D.
My Alaskan friend was making fun of me for only hanging out with Evanston people out here.
I left Chicago when I was 18 and was very independent and easily jumped in and out of communities. Being so misplaced for so long, I find great comfort in my Evanston people. I was talking to some married friends from Evanston that live here and they brought up that we have a different sense of humor that you only really get if you’re from Evanston. Perhaps that is how it goes with home towns. Do you feel the same?
After finally settling down, I feel very fortunate to have people in my life who I can feel totally myself with, I can talk funny slang and they get it, I can be tough on the outside but they know I am super soft and loving, I can be a bit eccentric and it’s completely understood. And having E and D up here in the woods is so fun! That restlessness dissipated once I had my familiar people making home feel even more like home.
So, on the Lacey tour of Marin, it consists of picnics in pretty spots, drinking wine and most likely, if you come visit, I will make you go to the sauna with me.
Life is idyllic up here. I can’t tell you enough, you must come visit! Our first order of business was bubbly on the ocean, followed my snacks in candlelight on my new porch set up where my new friends and old friends shared a drink. Friends, laughter, good food, silence, no iPhones, stars, nature–a life reminiscent of the life I loved in France.
The next day, after another coastal picnic perched over the pacific, fogged in and surrounded by elk, having caught a cold, I suggested some sauna action. Nothing like sweating with your friends, hillbillies, Russians and Greeks!
Ravenous from hours of sweating, it was decided a sunset picnic would be in order. A hot night in Fairfax, locusts of some sort where buzzing, reminding me of hot midwestern nights. A meal, more bubbly and a garden bench at dusk. Post sweat, friends, a hot night, some beverage–heaven.
I’ve said it before but I think life is all about the people in it. The more you fill your life with good souls and spend time with them, the happier you will be. I always think of my grandmother who lived nearly to 101. People are what kept her alive. She loved everyone from her Vietnamese manicurist to the mail man and in turn, everyone loved her. She loved to hear their stories and be their friend. She made you feel loved, what a great gift to give.
It’s been a long time since I had a community and I feel it slowly coming together here. And this, a thing you all may take for granted as maybe you never left your people. Some say I have lived a charmed life, but this community thing, that is the truest blessing that you can have and I am happy to finally be able to have my people.