7 Things I Learned in June.

1. Relax, already, about the outcome. My memoir was named a finalist for a Bi Book Award. The crazy little elf-on-the-shelf-of-my-mind spun its Linda Blair head around, swearing there was no way I would ever win against books put out by big New York publishers.

Bubble Lady at Washington Square Park

So instead of focusing on the award, I whipped out my frequent flier miles, thrilled to have an excuse to spend a few days in NYC. I decided to walk across the Brooklyn Bridge, something I'd always wanted to do. I meandered for two days around the West Village and Chelsea, soaking in all those incredible NYC sights and sounds...and bagels.

By the time of the book event, I was so high on my adventure that just being in the company of all those other writers felt like icing on the cake.

And then...I won! Not just one (Best Memoir) but two (Bi Writer of the Year).

That creepy little elf in my mind had almost talked me out of going. You're not going to win, anyway. Why bother?

But when I decided to focus on the journey rather than the outcome--the outcome was even sweeter. And if I hadn't won, I still would have had a memorable time.


2. "Paella season is a thing." We were lucky to enjoy two paella dinners in two weeks.

Chef Todd's creation

Chef Frank's masterpiece

3. ALWAYS double-check texts before hitting send. Auto-correct changed my playful word "wonkiness" to "long penis." Fortunately, my friend thought it was funny.

 

4. When Life Gives You Traffic, Make Lemonade. Is Bay Area traffic worse than ever, or is this just us adjusting-to-California-after-three-months-in-Baja? When we had to be in San Rafael on a Friday at 6 p.m., we knew that meant being off the roads by 3 p.m. at the latest.

Dave discovered there's a wild animal rehab facility in San Rafael that's open to the public. So instead of sitting in a wall of traffic, we hung out with hawks and owls and pelicans, and chatted with the knowledgeable people who care for them.

5. Let the locals teach you. We've been to San Francisco a zillion times...and taken lots of walks at Land's End and on Ocean Beach...which we did this time with our friend Nicole.

Nicole showed us something new.

Because she lives in the area, she knew of a hidden spot...

 

secret stairs

 that took us up to Sutro Heights Park, offering this view:

 

Worth every step--and we never would have known about it if we hadn't listened to a local.


6. Family isn't biology. I've learned that many times in my life--but it really hit home a few weeks ago. We were invited by my godmother to a gathering of her family. I hadn't seen most of these people in thirty years or more--but I felt like I belonged. It was sweet to hear stories about my parents, to talk to people who fondly remembered them.

Two women who loved my parents: Marcia (my godmother, on the left) and Louise.

Marcia and Dean had three sons. And one of them, Greg, said that when they were kids, the three boys had figured out which three Evans girls they were going to marry!

One of my dad's best friends (Dean)...and the guy I was supposed to marry (Travis).

 I was a child last time I saw all these people--but it felt like coming home.

Esperanza and Greg filled the house with music.

7. The story is never over. We are evolving, changing human beings. For the first time in many years, I went to the Pride parade. I wasn't sure how I'd feel there...but it was amazing. (And I wrote about it here.)

 

At Pride with my friend Laurie, looking at life through the eyes of love.

 

So, yes, the story continues. No matter what "it" is, this too shall pass.

Welcome, July. I look forward to what you have to teach.

 

 

"When something seems impossible, do it anyway."

In our nomadic fashion, Dave and I have experienced some incredible natural phenomena in the past few years. Reading Leigh Ann Henion's book,  Phenomenal: A Hesitant Adventurer's Search for Wonder in the Natural World, has made me itch to see more--especially the great migration in Tanzania, the bioluminescence in Puerto Rico, and the Northern lights in Sweden (and to stay in an ice hotel!).


Leigh Ann (right) with reindeer herder Johanna Huuva,
taking a break from sledging on the Torne river near Jukkasjärvi, Sweden

Her book is more than a travelogue; it's a journey into the physical and metaphysical mysteries. For my "Books That Inspire" series, Leigh Ann and I had a chat about how chasing eclipses, migrations, and other natural phenomena around the globe helped to reawake her sense of wonder. 

It's fun that both of our books have "Wonder" in the title/subtitle. What is it about wonder that's important to you?
 

I've written that wonder isn't about finding answers; it's about becoming more comfortable with questions. Wonder is an emotion that can provide perspective and overpower fear.

"Hesitant" is also in your subtitle. What has made you a "hesitant" adventurer? And what might you say to others who are hesitant about exploring the natural world?
 

Popular culture often presents the "adventurous" archetype as someone who is fit, very young, and unencumbered. And I'm not fit, very young, and unencumbered. One of the great discoveries I made while researching Phenomenal is that there are a lot of adventurous people who wouldn't make the cover of a fitness magazine. There are eighty year olds mapping out cave passages, elementary school teachers chasing tornadoes during school holidays.

I used the word "hesitant" because I'm often nervous before trips, but I go anyway. As for advice, I think that depends on the individual and the situation. But one of my new favorite mantras has become: When something seems impossible, do it anyway. Everything about Phenomenal seemed impossible until it wasn't.

 

You didn't set out on a spiritual journey, but your odyssey into the world's phenomenal events developed into one. Why do you think your journey unfolded in this way? How as a spiritual outlook affected your life?

I think my journey became a spiritual pilgrimage because, if you look into nature—via science or your own eyes—you're going to discover deepening mysteries. And spiritual and scientific modes of discussion are some of the only frameworks we have to talk about mystery. As a writer, I'm more artist than scientist, so spirituality dominates my vocabulary.

Thinking in terms of metaphor and mythology has opened me to spiritual discussions, even though talking about mystery—as a layperson in spiritual or scientific circles—opens one to a great deal of criticism. But it's important, I think, to have a variety of voices in dialogue about big questions.

When you start looking into one natural phenomena, you find it's connected to another, on and on. Awakening to that interconnectivity has given—and continues to give me—a sense of spiritual solace.

I noticed in your book that in addition to the sense of vision, you focus a lot on the sense of sound. Why is that?

We're a screen-obsessed culture, and we've started talking about the world mostly via sight-based language. But when you're witnessing a wildebeest migration in Tanzania, you're not just seeing rivers of animals—you're hearing their hooves, you're breathing in the dust those hooves kick up. You're present. I think that growing awareness influenced me, and it's why sound became a character in the book. Of course, hanging out with modern-day shamans and listening to deer-antler organs in the Arctic also influenced things!

 

You quote eclipse-chaser and writer Kate Russo as saying that the "real issue is that people don't feel free. They feel they have to live according to this script that's for everybody." What would you say to people who might want to challenge the script and live more freely?
 

What seems impractical to others might be supremely practical in the context of your life.

What natural marvels have you not seen that you would like to?

The list is ever-growing. If you'd asked a month ago, I might have said I'd like to witness a murmuration, a mass of birds twisting and turning as if a single creature. To do so, I thought I might have to travel to the UK, Israel, or another locale where they're common. But, just last month, I was driving through Kentucky and one appeared right over the highway. One of the enduring gifts of my Phenomenal journey is that I'm always on watch for wonder.


Leigh Ann Henion's essays and articles have appeared widely, and her stories have been noted in three editions of The Best American Travel Writing. She lives in the Appalachian mountains.

 

L.A. and the Mysteries

We've been to L.A. a lot. But not this L.A.

 

For almost a month now, we've enjoyed a housesit in Rancho Palos Verdes, a suburb in the hills above the Pacific. The house is on a bluff overlooking the ocean.

Amazing sunsets every night.

Usually when we come to So Cal we stay with friends and hang out in their neighborhoods. But on a housesit last year in West Hollywood, and this one, we've been able to explore pockets of L.A. we barely knew existed. And our friends have been coming to us.

Dave and Debbi hiking down the nearby coastal trail.



Brent and Jude jamming.

The Canon family, with smiley Miles.

Biking Santa Monica with the Kostenuiks, who met us half-way.

 

 In addition to hanging out with Kozmo and Kalvin...

  ...we've done a lot of outdoor stuff.

R.A.T. Beach (Right After Torrance)

We enjoyed a day at R.A.T. beach. We loved hiking down the steep cliffs to Abalone Cove (an ecological reserve), where at low tide you can check out tide pools. Several times we hiked the ocean trails near Trump National Golf Course, where public access to the bluffs has been preserved. And we rode our bikes along the strand from Redondo Beach to El Segundo--a wonderful multi-use path that takes you along the ocean for miles. We fell in love with Hermosa Beach and Manhattan Beach, two communities with seaside charm.

The Strand

Yesterday added an exclamation point to the sentence, "September was a great month!" My best friend since high school threw me an incredible book reading, a celebration of Call It Wonder. The turnout was fantastic, and the audience very engaged.



Shadowed by a picture of Nancy and me taken 35 years ago (with Norma).

 That was my first of other upcoming events, including:

* Reading at Columbia College, Sonora, CA on Friday, Oct. 16, 3:30 p.m.
* Reading at Sonora Joe's, Sonora, CA on Friday, Oct. 16, 7 p.m.
* Workshop at Tuolumne County Arts Alliance on Saturday, Oct. 17, 9-12 p.m.
* Reading at San Jose State on Thursday, Nov. 12, 7 p.m.

The title of the workshop is "How to Believe in Your Writing." I feel like, at age 52, I'm finally getting a handle on this--deeply knowing and appreciating that I am a creative creature who has every right to create what I want and get it out there how I want, no apologies or explanations. We all have this right.

Who knows where this crazy desire to make stuff comes from? It's one of the big mysteries. As we leave L.A. for our next adventure (three months all over Northern California), I have a familiar feeling of impermanence welling up inside, my pulse on another deeply mysterious truth: Life is change.

 

Love, sex, spirit, and travel...

We left jobs and home to travel the world...and then I wrote about it.

Today is the book's birthday.


You can order it here or at any bookstore.

The title comes from a quote by OSHO:

Don't call it uncertainty--call it wonder.

Don't call it insecurity--call it freedom.

Books may be written alone--but they aren't edited alone, published alone, or lived alone. I'm grateful to every person whose life has touched mine.

It's exciting and unnerving when something so personal and raw--something you've lived with intimately for so long--makes its way out into the world.

So I won't call it uncertainty, I'll call it wonder. I wonder what will come next?