The winds will carry you.

"I have come to accept the feeling of not knowing where I am going.

And I have trained myself to love it."

 

Our nomadic lives are about to pull us out of Mexico and into the next adventure.

 

We leave our Baja home in two days. I feel like I'm suspended in mid-air with no landing in sight.

 

Technically, we know where we're landing: California, New York, Colorado, Vietnam, Cambodia, and China. Yet there's so much we don't know. We will be on the move, experiencing people and places and cultures new to us.

 

How different that feels than being rooted here in our casita, enjoying the rhythms of beach life.

 

These three months, I've loved living next door to my sister and enjoying our long walks with her dogs.

Rama and Dino at San Pedrito beach.

 

We celebrated Dave's birthday with a bunch of friends from our wonderful community, featuring homemade tortillas and tacos al pastor.

Simon and Paolo from El Poblano, one of Dave's favs, catered for his birthday.

 

We spent time in La Paz, communing with amigos and whale sharks.

 

On Omar's boat.

 

Swimming with this 40-foot beauty was sublime.

We enjoyed spontaneous dance parties and meeting new people, many who dropped in for a few days or weeks, then left to journey on.

 

Kimberly's birthday at Palapa 1!

We were able to enjoy our home more this time because instead of scrambling around to get it furnished and completed, we could hang out. Writing, editing, reading, playing Scrabble, cooking, enjoying neighbors who dropped by--this was where the action happened.

 

Casita Once

 

So here we are, perched on leaving what now feels like home. Goodbye amigos and la playa. Adios fish tacos and ocean air. So long dogs and music everywhere.

 

When we left Santa Cruz three years ago, I didn't realize we'd be saying goodbye to home and hello to the next thing, again and again.

 

Before yoga class yesterday, Kylie, the teacher, and I were talking about life's uncertainties--especially in the face of nomadic existence. She said, "You're going to like the poem I brought." During savasana (corpse pose), she read:

 

 

We rolled over from savasana and curled onto our sides: reborn from the corpse to the fetus. Death, birth. Goodbye, hello.

 

And then we stood and spread our arms, our wings. An ocean wind blew through the room, carrying us.  

 

Facing down the mountain in the New Year

Chicago, one of our housesitting gigs.

2015. In my personal sphere and on the planet, it's been a year of darkness and light.  It's been a year of writing and travel, growth and exploration. And of letting go, again and again.

Pema Chodron has been my greatest guide, Byron Katie a close second. They remind me to soften, to keep my sense of humor, to love (accept) what is.

All my precarious emotions? They are projections; they are bad weather in a vast, unchanging sky. And the feelings that come from my gut? They are my guide.

This year has been a bunch of puzzle pieces fitting together. We spent the first few months at our little house in Mexico. One of our biggest adventures was taking four days to drive up Baja. After that--except for New Orleans in spring Chicago in summer--we spent the rest of the time buzzing all over California.

When you add up all of our housesitting gigs this year (Chicago, Rancho Palos Verdes, San Francisco, Berkeley, Alameda, Santa Cruz, Tahoe)--that's six months of free rent!

Sure, we take care of cats and dogs; sometimes that feels like work, but for the most part it's fun. Even the dog who bit my finger, and the dog who barked in the middle of the night--I got over it, and so did they.

Traveling around California, it seemed we spent more time with family and friends than we did when we lived here. We were privileged to attend my niece's 8th grade graduation and Dave's nephew's wedding. Another highlight was time with my 92-year-old piano playing aunt. And, just the other day, skiing with my sister and her kids.

In June, my memoir (my fifth book) came out, followed by a flurry of book parties, readings, workshops, and generally awesome mayhem. Friends, family, former students and colleagues cheered me on, and strangers became intimates.

Some of the material in the book is so potentially embarrassing that I jokingly tell people to pretend it's fiction. But as Joe Loya once said, we must be willing to be embarrassed to write a memoir. And of course it's all the juicy bits that people love--not just for the sake of titillation, but because they can exhale and say, "Ah, yes, we're all very human, aren't we?"

Also on the writing front, Elephant Journal took me on as a regular contributor. The scope is mind-boggling; thousands of people are reading and sharing my pieces. People email me about how my writing is affecting their lives. Others have invited me to be guests on their blog-casts and telesummits. Holy internet!

My piece "How to Have a Crush on Your Husband" went viral. I was a puddle on the floor when I saw how many used their comments to express their love for their spouses.

Maybe that's my calling: spreading love with my words like some doped-up hippie child strewing flowers. (Although I'm doing it without being doped up, for the most part, since I rarely drink booze anymore, and I quit coffee.)



Boo and Coco, the beasts at our San Francisco housesit.
 

On my blog, I started a series I call "Books That Inspire." It's a blast interviewing authors whose work makes a difference in the world.

This was a year of music and adventure: JazzFest in New Orleans, American Music Festival in Santa Cruz, High Sierra Music festival in Northern California, and a sprinkling of other live shows. We went river rafting, beachside bike riding, Yosemite hiking, snow skiing, and swimming with whale sharks.

I continue to be grateful for my health after brain surgery two years ago--and yet now there's this whole "going through menopause" thing. It's not for wimps.

Here in Tahoe, Dave's been battling a rough flu (as I did earlier in the year). And several friends are battling grave illnesses. I am reminded the body is both fragile and resilient.

While Dave was sick, I took the leap and skied by myself. People chatted with me on the lift and invited me to ski with them.

The perimenopausal skier in action.

And then, when I accidentally found myself facing a gnarly, ungroomed, moguly, super-steep run (not my forte!)--ahem, two different times--angels came to me. Once a woman and once a man, each who guided me down. Thankfully, I was able to face down the mountain, turn and traverse.

As this year closes, it's becoming clear there are a lot of uncertainties ahead for these nomads. We aren't sure what shape our work and living situation are going to take.

But guess what? We know how to turn. We know how to face down the mountain. Let us remember that in 2016.

 

Peaceful La Paz

La Paz means "The Peace" for  good reason.

Our first foray into La Paz, an hour drive from our casita, was a bummer. We'd been in Mexico a short time and were whirling from all the change. We'd heard there were lots of good stores in La Paz to buy furniture and sundries--but we'd also heard La Paz cops might pull us gringos over for a mordita (bribe) and that the city had problems with violence. We were a little on edge.

It was tough navigating the unmarked streets. And some of the tiendas were in post-hurricane upheaval. The whole vibe seemed dreary and industrial.

But we also heard a lot of great things about La Paz. People urged us not to miss out on the best parts of town, the parts we had yet to see: the downtown, the malecon (waterfront esplanade), the beaches, the food. Long timers spoke glowingly of La Paz, adding that it was as safe as, if not safer than, American cities.

The biggest pull for Dave was the sea life. Especially the opportunity to swim with whale sharks. Talk about danger! But no, not really. The largest living non-mammalian vertebrates, they can get up to 42 feet and almost 50,000 pounds. But they are gentle giants, filter feeders who eat plankton, not human flesh.



whale shark (credit)

When our neighbors came back one late afternoon glowing with suntans and reports of an amazing day in La Paz swimming with whale sharks, we took that as a sign. The next morning we threw our snorkels in our car and took off.

It was an easy drive. We followed our friends' directions (turn left at the big McDonalds) to avoid the drab, confusing outskirts and headed right to the Malecon. Immediately we were struck by the azure waters of the Gulf of California (aka Sea of Cortez) and charming streets lined with shops, restaurants and small hotels. We found easy parking in front of Los Arcos, a defunct hotel.

There are lots of beautiful sculptures along the Malecon.

Right across the street a guy named Omar stood in front of his small boat. He charged us $600 pesos (about $40) each. It would have cost less with more passengers. The boat might have fit two or three more people. But we were happy to have our own spontaneous, private charter. Especially when we saw tourist boats crammed with 12 or more people, who paid $800 or more pesos each.

el barco de Omar

We stepped from the beach into his boat. In just minutes dolphins bounded by. About ten minutes later, Omar spotted a dark shadow in the water. A whale shark. He stopped, urging us to jump in. Gulp.



Dave caught the whale shark coming right at him.

We dropped into the 70 degree water in front of the beast, who glided by beneath us. How to explain being in the sea with a shark of that size? Electrifying.

Several times we got back in the boat--hauling ourselves up the small ladder--and Omar took us to another spot for more whale shark action. At one point, Dave got in alone and captured the experience on video. When he got back in the boat, he was in his blissful Dr. Doolittle state, happy and deeply moved.

After two hours on the water, we were hungry. We walked through the skate park to a big palapa that was Claro Jr., an open-air restaurant. The tacos were stuffed with super-fresh fish and shrimp, to which we added all kinds of goodies from the huge salsa bar.

 

Next we drove south on the road that snakes through the desert hills past one beautiful beach after another until we reached El Tecolote.

This osprey watched us as we drove by.

 

 

El Tecolote is one of those beaches of your dreams. Calm aquamarine waters. Vast areas of solitude punctuated by by shade palapas and charming feet-in-the-sand restaurants.




El Tecolote

The water, shallow for a long way out, was so inviting. It was one of those magical swimming moments, where your body and the water meld.

Our first impression of La Paz may have been alienating. But now we know better. There are so many treasures in this incredible place, and we can't wait to go back for more.