Posted on September 1, 2018
June 5, 2018 – Sausalito, California
“So…what is this ‘Jubilee’?”
…I ask Jeff as we sip our drinks at the local Starbucks. Unable to bring myself to adopt his methods (borrowing a newspaper and using their hot water to make tea), I purchased a coffee instead. Jubilee, other than being the name of his boat, he informs me, is also a biblical tradition he had alluded to in previous conversations.
“The seventh day is the Sabbath, right? The day of rest. Then the Sabbath year is every seven years – during which there is no planting or harvesting of crops. Instead, the community shares the yield from the soil. After seven Sabbatical cycles comes the Jubilee. So when the Jubilee happens every 49 years, historically, all the prisoners are freed, debts are forgiven, and property is returned to its original owner. A year devoted to the Lord, like that.” He tells me that there are efforts being made to reincorporate such a tradition.
Well, that’s a fascinating idea.
We finish our drinks and head to the community garden for a grill-out. This garden lies behind a coffee shop on the south side of Sausalito. Jeff tells me that he met the owner of the shop at a city council meeting. This communal space for locals to grow their own food was the result. A rare manifestation of human kindness.
Despite the small plot of land, there’s enough space for each participating member (Jeff, AJ, Endora, Arturus, and the owner, Duretta) to grow their choice of vegetables. For an “anchor out,” I imagine that having this privilege is immensely meaningful. There are radishes, corn, carrots, tomatoes, beans, various flowers, and more. We water the garden and greet the other members as they arrive for dinner. The evening consists of conversation, music, and fellowship. I offer to help all of the members in any way I can. Duretta gives me permission to film at the garden. Endora offers work on her boat. Arturus discusses some creative projects he has in mind. This could be quite interesting.
Given a new sense of meaning in Sausalito, I say goodbye to my new friends and retire to the Jubilee.
“Just living is not enough…one must have sunshine, freedom, and a little flower.” – Hans Christian Andersen
Posted on August 5, 2018
May 28, 2018 – Sausalito, California
What a nightmare.
It’s Memorial Day in Sausalito, California. Countless tourists flood the streets. They come to see the sights, visit the shops, enjoy the weather. With this view of San Francisco, who can blame us? I’m walking around town after finishing an interview at The Spinnaker, a restaurant that has welcomed guests of the Bay Area for nearly sixty years. I’ve already inadvertently noticed a ridiculous number of Audis, Porsches, Teslas, and the like. The amount of cyclists on the road is reminiscent of Amsterdam.
At least I can get behind that.
I feel like a foreign invader flowing through Sausalito’s blood stream as I explore and observe the madness. Buy, buy, buy. I’m staying with an “Anchor Out” – someone that essentially lives for free on the water near the shore. Making me, ipso facto, a bum. Of sorts.
Maserati.
Lamborghini.
Jaguar.
Sausalito lies four miles to the North of San Francisco across the Golden Gate Bridge. It’s part of Marin County, which as of 2010, had the third highest income per capita in the United States. During World War II, it served as a shipbuilding center and has since evolved into a wealthy and artistic area, transit hub, and tourist destination. The topography and plethora of boats is reminiscent of Port Angeles.
Fiat. Ferrari. Bugatti.
Yes, the number of people here today is nightmarish, but it’s also why I decided to come here. I learned a number of years ago that there are much more profitable ways to go about food and beverage service than work at any given restaurant. Resorts and tourist hubs, depending on the season, provide me with a more consistent level of business that I prefer: chaotic. The faster I end my debt, the more I can focus on my project.
The contrast of such an existence fascinates me. I’ll be paddling in to shore from my host’s boat in my typical homeless attire (flip flops, sporty shorts, hoodie), then like Superman, change into my work outfit (white button down, vest, tie) and be ready to serve Marin’s elite.
A truly illusory chapter of my life.
“We live in a fantasy world, a world of illusion. The great task in life is to find reality.” – Iris Murdoch
Posted on June 23, 2018
May 19, 2018 – Sierra Foothills, California
Sweet relief.
I feel a welcome sense of accomplishment as I watch the guests tour Meibao’s farm. We’ve worked many hours getting this place into shape. Weeding, mowing, brush and manure removal. Spreading compost and wood chips, building a compost pile…yada, yada, yada. I’ve done these things myriad times. What I haven’t done before, however, is building custom trellises. Analyzing, repairing, and restructuring an irrigation system. Using my own urine as a medical treatment for poison oak rash.
This woman and this place provide many lessons.
Cassidy and I offer guests information about WWOOF and Workaway as they walk by our table. One or two ask questions, but mostly people just bypass us completely. They don’t know what they’re missing. I can’t blame them; there are numerous gardens on the Master Gardeners tour, offering a variety of plants and flowers, trees, landscapes, walking trails, and growing techniques. Meibao’s stands alone as the only organic vegetable garden among them.
Which has truly been a pleasure to work in. The sheer beauty and level of serenity here is intoxicating. I would stay longer, but there’s not enough work on the farm over the summer to necessitate it. Finding paid employment in such a remote area would also be difficult. Therefore, I’ve begun contacting potential hosts in the Bay Area in regard to a summer stay. The draws are many: I would be near my family for a season, getting a paid job would be simple, and the Bay Area is stunningly beautiful.
Witnessing the people touring the farm brings forth feelings of satisfaction, appreciation, and closure. I’m satisfied with the balance my time here has provided. I appreciate everything I have learned from Meibao and her lifestyle. The sense of closure isn’t always present at the end of a stay – to me, this not only depends on whether or not certain projects are finished, but much more importantly, the relationship between host and traveler.
The nature of the exchange.
The mutual act of giving.
The energy created.
“You are responsible for the energy that you create for yourself, and you’re responsible for the energy that you bring to others.” – Oprah Winfrey
Posted on June 7, 2018
May 13, 2018 – Yosemite National Park, California
Happy Mother’s Day, Mom…
I think to myself as I jam my left foot into the crack. At least I talked to her the other day. With no cell service at the farm, and certainly none in this breathtaking park, I have no way of contacting her without going for a lengthy drive. Besides, it’s not every day I get an invitation to go climbing in Yosemite.
My left hand grips the edge of the crack; my right scours the cliff face for a decent hold. I lift my right foot up onto a small ledge. My first outdoor climb. A rare occasion indeed – the only reason I’m here today can be attributed to a chance encounter that occurred a couple years ago when I was in Montana. My cousins and I took a trip to Yellowstone National Park and stopped by the “Boiling River.” A single woman was passing by us in the river, and one of my cousins helped her through a rocky path. We chatted with her briefly, then again as we were leaving. She told us her name (Tara) and how she had left her job for a life on the road.
Say no more.
I was instantly attracted; we connected online. We kept in touch here and there, but much more frequently over last winter. I was debating where to go for year four of my journey, and California sounded just fine to me. So here I am. We first met up for dinner and drinks a week or so ago. This time, we met up with a few new friends of hers, who seem to be very experienced climbers.
I continue making my way up “Jamcrack” as Tara belays for me. It feels like a perfect climb for beginners, of which I am. I eventually reach the top and take a moment to enjoy the view of Yosemite Valley. This place is astonishing. Upon returning to terra firma, I thank my new friends for the experience, Tara for the invitation…
… and my mother for the opportunity.
“May each of us remember this truth; ‘one cannot forget mother and remember God. One cannot remember mother and forget God.’ Why? Because these two sacred persons, God and mother, partners in creation, in love, in sacrifice, in service, are as one.” – Thomas S. Monson
Updated on May 25, 2018
April 22, 2018 – Sierra Foothills, California
And like that, I’m starting year four.
[After an epic road trip from Iowa to California.]
This place is beautiful. My host (Meibao) lives in paradise – surrounded by a pond, various mountains and forests, numerous pastures, and more animals than I would know what to do with.
[Stop #1: Lincoln, Nebraska. I drive through a snowstorm. Stay with a friend that I haven’t seen for awhile. We stay up late and talk. Leave her place at 5:00 AM.]
After settling in for an indeterminate amount of time, my fellow “WWOOFer” (April) shows me the evening feeding regimen. We start with the chicks, guinea pigs, and rabbit. Next is the horses, goats, pigs, sheep. She shows me how to milk the goats; I do so for the first time in my life. The dogs get a taste. We wrap things up with the guineafowl. The cattle are satisfied with grazing.
[Stop #2: Copper Mountain, Colorado. The scenery gets much better. I meet up with an old friend from high school that works at the resort. We enjoy live music for the last day of the season. Drink adult beverages. Have good conversations. Leave at 6:00 AM.]
I’m then treated to one of the best meals I’ve had since leaving Lutsen. Pan-fried pork chops, homemade bread with homemade goat cheese, swiss chard salad. Organic everything.
Maybe I should stay an extra week?
[Stop #3: Gilbert, Arizona. More amazing views. I arrive at my cousin’s house in the evening; she shows me a warm welcome. Next day, we go shopping for some vital items. Meet up with an old friend from high school. Dinner. Movie. Sleep. Next day, she takes me hiking on Camelback Mountain. We then meet said friend at an archery range, where my cousin shoots for the first time. I shoot my longbow for the first time. Progress. Dinner. Goodbyes to my friend. Movie. Sleep. Leave at 5:00 AM.]
Morning comes. We feed the animals, then April prepares breakfast. Conversation ensues. She leaves for church; I decide to explore a bit of the property and work on my project. After lunch, we do work in the garden. Haul compost out to the pasture. The space seems endless. She tells me about the river on the other side of the hill.
[Stop #4: Monterey, California. Gorgeous. I rendezvous with my sister, who is here with her husband and nine-month-old on a business trip. It’s great to see them. We dine out, swim in the heated pool, go for a stroll on the beach, see the sights. I mostly watch my nephew and realize how fast he grows. I hope to be present in his life. With sadness and excitement, I depart.]
After work, I decide to go find that river. It’s a peaceful walk up and over the sprawling pastures. I hear the flowing water, which excites this Pisces. I snap a couple photos and get ready to head back for dinner, but wait…
Sit down and meditate.
I find a large rock in the middle of the river and sit cross-legged for just a few minutes. How long has it been? Too long. I haven’t had this kind of peaceful state of mind since Trout Lake, Washington.
I’m just a few days in, but thus far, California shows great promise.
“In every walk with nature one receives far more than he seeks.” – John Muir
Posted on February 19, 2018
February 13, 2018 – Lutsen, Minnesota
So, it’s not exactly a new place.
But this time around, there are plenty of new faces (along with many old ones). The amount of redundancy is further curbed by holding a new position in addition to the old, which is located at the top of Moose Mountain. Five days a week, I have the privilege of riding a multi-million dollar gondola to one of the best views I’ve experienced in the Midwest. Whenever I want to feel sorry for myself for spending “extra time” in this particular state while not working for a host family, I remind myself that I am just that.
Privileged.
Perhaps more importantly, this is a lesson that needed to be learned at some point or another. This is not the first time your plans will be thrown off. Deal with it. I initially intended to work at Copper Mountain, Colorado with an old friend over the winter (instead of returning to Washington), but the responsible party took too long to respond. I had remained in contact with my old supervisor from Lutsen since I left two years ago; he made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.
Last fall’s events taught me another lesson: I need to diversify my project. Putting the majority of my effort into one person or family for an entire season may not be the best allocation of my time. I certainly don’t regret the amount of work I did or time I spent, but I learned that not being able to share it with the world is emotionally devastating for me.
And here I thought I knew it all.
But no, I am very much still a student and have much to learn in this life. Learning from my experiences was one of the primary ideas in the formulation of The 50 Year Plan. My privileged existence continues to enlighten; I must capitalize on such opportunities.
The latest lesson?
Snowboarding is so much better in Big Sky.
“When you arise in the morning, think of what a precious privilege it is to be alive – to breathe, to think, to enjoy, to love.” – Marcus Aurelius
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