Meditation

Sometime in the late summer of this year, I felt pulled to join an activity or class beyond fitness after work. I had heard about Stanford University’s continuing education classes for members of the community, and looked at the many options. After some thought, I decided on a class that seemed like it would leave an impact on my ways of thinking and ability to handle stress – a meditation class!

The course, called Playful Mindfulness, engrained meditation and improvisation and provided a closer view into how one's mind works. Also provided was guided meditation and ways to confront stress. Prior to beginning the class, I attended guided meditation occasionally but the course opened up a new window of knowledge for me.

I loved learning about how our bodies and minds respond to stress. It was helpful to learn how to ground my feet, focus my thoughts, and allow my mind to wander when meditating, or to listen to every sound. It was fascinating too, to take notice of how our minds react to prompts, sounds, and actions. Most of all though, learning alongside other interested students was the best part of the class. 

The class met weekly and I’d drive from work and spend time in Palo Alto first, usually having a quick dinner and reading a book. When the class ended at 9 p.m., I’d be tired and with a classmate or two, would walk across Stanford’s grassy oval to find our cars. As I’d drive through Palo Alto heading toward the highway, I remember the autumn darkness and stillness. Still being new to the area, there is much about the Bay area and Silicon Valley that still feels foreign and new. The region is historic and intriguing and seeing it at night when much of the usual traffic has dissipated makes it feel smaller and less busy than it is. With the streetlights illuminating portions of the road and quaint Palo Alto neighborhoods lining the stretch of road before the highway, I would think most weeks on this drive home about Christine Blasey Ford, about her bravery, and how she still hadn’t returned to her home. I’d wonder if one of the dark houses passing by in a blur belonged to her.

Visiting Auburn, CA

For most of this fall, I've looked forward to a taking a day-trip to the town of Auburn, CA. I'd driven past it on the way to Tahoe previously, and remembered the town's beautiful courthouse being visible from the highway. While living in Monterey, I also met people from the town who had great things to say. When a free day presented itself yesterday, I was thrilled to make the trip!  

 

I departed the bay area around 8 a.m. to ensure the drive there would be just two hours. I traveled solo and really love the occasional experience of taking a trip on my own. Auburn was located just off the highway and is in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada mountain range. As soon as I arrived, I could tell there was a peaceful small town feel. I found a parking spot and noticed this large monument paying tribute to how the town was founded -- when gold was found nearby in 1848.

I walked up to the town's main attraction, the large Placer County courthouse built in 1893 from local materials including granite and limestone. The building is still an active courthouse and has a great free history museum on the first floor that details the Native American period in the area as well as the gold rush and pioneer history of the town. I can't share enough beautiful words about the building. It was magnificent and so enormous and fun to spot from nearly every part of town.

I stumbled upon a farmer's market after departing the courthouse and loved walking among the scent of flowers, fresh vegetables, and herbs. There was live music and with the foliage, clear sky, and smell of food, the farmer's market felt like the perfect place to be in that moment. I bought some vegetables and just when it seemed that the surroundings couldn't get any better, I found a wood-fired pizza food truck and got a personal margherita pizza to eat on a nearby bench. It was delicious!

It was fun to explore the many antique shops in Old Town Auburn, a section of the town which dates back to Auburn's gold rush past. Much of this area was devoted to tourism, but it appeared naturally historic too, nothing seemed inauthentic or too touristy. After exploring this area in full, I noticed it was nearly 80 degrees at noon and to escape the sun, I found a coffee shop to relax and start reading a book. 

 

This nitro cold brew was good! As I'd never seen one before and the coffee shop also served beer and wine, I clarified that it was coffee when it was presented. 😂

 

In short, it was a lovely day trip, and I'd recommend visiting Auburn for a day, or as a quick stop if you're on Interstate 80!

Joan Didion's Where I Was From

I recently read Joan Didion's Where I Was From. It was great! I'd read and listened to a few of her books before and was particularly interested in this one as I knew it was about her life in, and perspective on, California, as both a place and ideal. The book was a series of essays and despite being published in 1999, it still seemed relevant today, exploring the population explosion of the state in Didion's lifetime (she was born in 1934), the decline of jobs and industry in Los Angeles in the late '80s and early '90s, the state's struggle to maintain a strong middle class, the significance of westward migration to the state in the nineteenth century, and the natural challenges the state presented then and presents now. Didion is brilliant and deep and while I don't re-read books often, this one seems like a wise one to return to when I crave deeper analysis on this unique and beautiful place. Below are my photos and several brief passages I enjoyed in the book. 

"Not much about California, on its own preferred terms, has encouraged its children to see themselves as connected to one another. The separation, of north from south -- and even more acutely of west from east, of the urban coast and the valleys from the mountain and desert regions."

"Scaled against Yosemite, or against the view through the Gate of the Pacific trembling on its tectonic plates, the slightest shift of which could and with some regularity did destroy the works of man in a millisecond, all human beings were of course but as worms, their "heroic imperatives" finally futile, their philosophical inquiries vain." 

"Californians of more programmatic mind for many years presented these postwar changes as positive, the very genius of the place: it was conventional to mention the freeway system, the aerospace industry, the University of California Master Plan, Silicon Valley, the massive rearrangement of the water that got funded when Pat Brown was governor [...] The more recent programmatic attitude was to construe the same changes as negative, false promises: the freeways had encouraged sprawl, the aerospace industry had gone away, the University of California had lost faculty and classrooms to budget cuts, Silicon Valley had put housing beyond the means of non-tech California, and most of the state was still short water."

"If my grandfather spotted a rattlesnake while driving, he would stop his car and go into the brush after it. To do less, he advised me more than once, was to endanger whoever later entered the brush, and so violate what he called "the code of the West." New people, I was told, did not understand their responsibility to kill rattlesnakes. Nor did new people understand that the water that came from the tap in, say, San Francisco was there only because part of Yosemite had been flooded to put it there. New people did not understand the necessary dynamic of the fires, the seven-year cycles of flood and drought, the physical reality of the place." 

"I was many times told as a child that the grass in the Sacramento Valley had at the time of the American settlers arrived in the 1840s grown so high that it could be tied over a saddle, the point being that it did no more. California, in this telling, had even then been "spoiled." The logical extension of this thought, that we were the people who had spoiled it, remained unexplored." 

Visiting the Mendocino Coast

Earlier this summer, my partner and I traveled up to the Mendocino coast, about 4 hours north of the San Francisco Bay area. We were seeking a quiet long weekend in a nature-filled place without excessive crowds or traffic, and we weren't disappointed! We left mid-day on a Thursday, and once we'd driven through San Francisco and crossed the golden gate bridge, the drive flew by. 

The area is sometimes referred to as the Lost Coast as it's the most undeveloped portion of coastline in the state and the closest major freeway is accessible via 30 miles of secondary roads that wind through redwood forests. Driving through the redwood forests, particularly with the sunshine coming through the branches, was an unexpected bonus of the trip. Visiting these trees is one of my favorite parts of living in California. 

The Mendocino coast had delicious food and much lower prices than in the Bay area which delighted us. The weather was cool and mainly in the 50s and 60s. We enjoyed exploring a beach known for its abundance of sea glass, a historic lighthouse, a coastal botanical garden, a local theater performance, a fantastic book store, a fun old west saloon, a delicious ice cream shop, and loved walking and driving along the rugged coast. Images below were taken by both of us.

About 30 miles from the Mendocino coast, this pull-off was a beautiful stop as we neared our destination. Sadly, this region was impacted by the Mendocino Complex fire in the weeks after we visited. 

Point Cabrillo Lighthouse 

I like to think I was reflecting on how happy the absence of crowds and cars made me feel.

Highway & Hot Summer

About four months ago, I moved to a new part of California and started a new job. It's been great! A longer and different post later on may dive deeper into the positive changes I've found. My workplace is between San Jose and San Francisco and borders the Santa Cruz mountains. It's only a few miles from Stanford University and feels like a great blend of being in the middle of a busy and exciting area, but also in the country. Even now, nearly half a year later, I often find myself reflecting on how different the weather and my route to work are compared to anywhere else I've lived.

I love that the highway that I drive on (pictured here today!) is free of billboards and has views of the Santa Cruz mountains. It can get crowded, but extreme traffic is rare on this highway as it's not as commonly traveled as others in the bay area.

In the spring, the hills were still green from the winter rain. By late May, they had turned the golden color that many native Californians rave about. At first, I missed the vividly green summers on the east coast and dreaded the upcoming "golden hills" that seemed brown to me. Now I see that they are truly straw-colored, or, a shade of gold, and they can be quite beautiful paired with live oak trees.

In early May as the grass was just turning golden...

Today, on August 14. The freeway I drive on is on the far right. The winding road is the pullout for this scenic view! The trees in the center are live oak trees. The fog at the top of the mountains is coming in from the ocean.

Most days in the summer are 85 degrees or higher with bright sunshine. I do enjoy the heat (and that I can step back into air conditioning!) but I've found it hard to keep up with re-application of sunscreen each time I'm outside. I like the predictability of each day being warm and truly a summer day, but to have some change, I'm looking forward to when it rains again in the late fall and winter. 

Learning about Forest Bathing

Over the weekend, I read the book Forest Bathing by Dr. Qing Li. I'd seen the book recently at a bookstore and was so intrigued by its premise on the necessity of spending time in nature and among forests, that I set out to save my cash and join the waiting list for it at my local library. The book didn't disappoint! In addition to being a medical doctor, Li is an expert in forest medicine, a medicine that I didn't know existed. The book focuses on how time spent quietly in nature and taking in the forest through all five senses (aka forest bathing) is necessary for humans.

The book was right up my alley as I love forests and trees. What I didn't expect to learn was how beneficial being among trees could be to one's mood and health. 

The author explores how more than half of the world's population live in cities, with the percentage expected to rise by 2050. After reading about his vast personal experience exploring and finding relaxation in forests, it was comforting to read that he now lives in Tokyo. Excellent ways to seek out forest bathing in urban environments were offered, including spending time in parks and green spaces, and to walk slowly to receive the full benefits of peace and tranquility in nature. 

I've often felt the greatest spiritual connection while in forests and nature, and reading about the health benefits and natural connection humans have to trees has encouraged me to continue pursuing outdoor walks near my rural workplace, to supplement some of my time at the gym for walks in nature, and to more frequently visit my favorite redwood groves on the weekends and when time allows. 

Two favorite lines from Forest Bathing:

"We love nature because we learned to love the things that helped us to survive. We feel comfortable in nature because that is where we have lived for most of our life on earth. We are genetically determined to love the natural world. It is in our DNA."

"Nature takes out breath away and breathes new life into us." 

Visiting Sequoia National Park

In mid-May, my childhood friend Carol visited California from New Mexico! We had lots of fun exploring coastal California, and she had hoped to see Sequoia National Park during her visit. I'd never visited, and it was great to learn and explore together. We were there for about 36 hours.

I had traveled to Yosemite and Tahoe before in the high and mid-Sierra range, but never Sequoia nor Kings Canyon National Park in the southern Sierras.

The drive through California's central valley can feel hot, dry, and rather boring, but arriving in the Sierras is magical. The elevation increases, the air smells fresh, and in our case, the trees grew taller and wider. We entered the land of no cell service and began exploring the two parks.

About an hour's drive of switchbacks gets you into the heart of Sequoia National Park from the town of Three Rivers, CA. It's worth the drive and views!

It was really incredible to see this first enormous tree and learn that it was only a teenager, and still had growing to do!

Their height and width was really extraordinary. They're the largest living things on earth!

Carol vs. trees!

Springtime in the Sierra

Kings Canyon came at the tail end of our trip and included a few more enormous Sequoias and this great view of the glacier-created canyon. 

I hope to explore more of the spectacular Sierra mountain range soon!

Green Forests

I returned to New Hampshire a couple of weeks ago for a week-long visit. It was rainy at first, and then cold, humid, bright, and sunny. I was happy to hear thunder, watch many sunsets, and feel the humidity. I caught up with friends and family, traditions and memories, and enjoyed a really restful time. 

I've heard of being homesick for two places at once, and I've felt that this year. In California this spring and early summer, I missed the green landscape, humidity, summer warmth and unspoiled emptiness of New Hampshire. While experiencing New Hampshire's summer rain and chill, I missed the predictability and warmth and the mountains and landscape of California. 

After the first couple of days back east, I noticed the news that the poet Donald Hall who lived about 20 miles away, had passed away. I first learned about him while studying in Scotland and recalled that I was excited to learn from so far away that he had been a U.S. poet laureate, wrote with the great poets of the 20th century, and happened to live in New Hampshire.

After reading his long obituary filled with his poetry and how he made a happy home and life in NH, I thought then and in the coming days on the quiet roads and forest paths of how Hall lived and wrote and died in a beautiful place that once again, I was happy to have roots in.

From the essay, Why We Live Here by Donald Hall about his home in Wilmot, New Hampshire

Late spring and early summer, the whip-poor-will wakes us at four-thirty. Gray light starts over the hills; thrushes sing from every branch; clouds snag like lamb's wool on blue Mount Kearsarge. Down by Eagle Pond, just west of us, pickerel leap for blackflies and when they splat on the still water wake frogs and turtles. It is a good hour for waking; we keep the green universe alone. But late September is the most beautiful time, and early at the road. Sugar maples flare a Chinese red; they combine with tweed on hills in the middle distance. I grant that winter causes pain -- in cold January sometimes I lie abed until six -- but even winter is gorgeous; when the moon is high, I wake at midnight and wantder through the farmhouse in gray, spooky light that illuminates every corner, the ceilings luminous with reflections from snowy hayfields.