Life without guardrails

Sorry for the shortage of posts these past weeks. It has not been for a lack of content. It’s the exact opposite really, too much to comment on and not knowing where to begin.

Have you ever noticed the abundance of Hollwood movies where a car screeches around a hairpin turn to go careening off the side of a cliff? Finally, I understand. California has no guardrails. I’m not sure why, maybe lack of state funding or possibly a deeper metaphor for life out here. Either way it serves the movie industry well. There are some guardrails but not where you expect them and certainly not in those dangerous spots. It’s a little scary and oddly invigorating to be driving along knowing there is nothing but space between you and the edge. The lack of a physical boundary causes me to create my own and that feels good. I feel my edges here.

It isn’t all hairpin turns and wild galavants but life full of many new experiences. “We don’t remember days, we remember moments.” – Cesare Pavese. So true! Over the years Scott and I have spent a lot of time, effort and brain power creating “predictable”, that feeling of knowing what to expect in our home life. Thanks to all that establishing of rituals and schedules there is, in this time, freedom to find our edges. No worries, I’m not dying my hair and changing my name to Sunflower though it has a nice ring to it.  We are fully enjoying the wealth of experiences California is offering up and living, quite acutely, in the moment. From hikes out to the beach to find Elephant Seals to watching the San Francisco Symphony Orchestra, drives up curvy mountain roads and along seaside cliffs, working on the organic farm and baking ancient Einkorn bread from scratch (including the 5+ hours and hand grinding the wheat), treking 160 feet underground into dark caverns and tubing in the Sierra mountains, building structures out of driftwood on the beach and spending hours and hours biking and rollerblading. There are also lazy walks, movie nights and quiet mornings. On Sunday we stop, go to church, refuel, spend time just sitting and being together, shop at the farmers market for dinner and enjoy the process. There are edges and there is balance.

At this moment Evan is in his room deeply involved in play. He’s singing which is one of his gifts and not about anything in particular, part jumbled words and part humming. I’m holding back the desire to go investigate knowing that an unexpected entrance will change his cadence. So I just sit and listen and am reminded that these moments are fleeting. This whole experience is fleeting but I have this moment and am thankful for it.

All the adventures aside we deeply miss you all. Please keep us in your prayers. Our wee little house doesn’t boast of guest rooms or a quiet oasis but we have enough room and lots of hugs waiting. If your journeys bring you west please let us know.

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