Today was an adventure. Everday is an adventure, of course, but today in particular I had many of those "whoa, my life." moments. It began at 7am when I realized I missed my alarm by 15 minutes. The plan: Get up and in the car, sleeping children in tow, arrive at the Greyhound station in town about 45 minutes away in time to make the 8:40am bus heading North up Interstate 5 to Portland. Now this plan was talked over and developed the night before, while the blueberry jam project that began at 1 that afternoon continued past midnight. After tossing different ideas around, it was decided that we would in fact do our best to get up and get me on the early bus. So at 7am this morning I was rolling out of bed, missing those extra 15 minutes to roll around and try to shake off my dreams. Seamlessly the two sleeping children were transplanted from bed to car (not a fun transition for anyone) and we were en route down the mile long, dusty drive way just in time for the sun to start kissing the green mountainside. Just the other day we were talking about how great it is to have a mile long drive way where the fastest one should drive is 15mph, because it allows for plenty of time to acclimate and confirm you have everything you need for wherever you are headed. It was agreed by all parties that all to often we go running back inside for the forgotten set of keys, wallet or the like. Well this morning the driveway came through for me as I realized I had forgotten my iPod just as we closed and locked the gate. With a 6 and a half hour bus ride, followed by a full day of flying, there was no way I was leaving without my iPod. My jewlery on the other hand still sits on the kitchen sink, as that realization didn't come until we were already on paved road 20 minutes into town. All is well, rings or no rings.
Well, we rejoiced with our early arrival and rewarded ourselves with coffee, pulling into the small, concrete Greyhound Station promptly at 8:30. I ran in to buy my ticket before saying goodbye to my friends, and was informed that the bus was running a half hour behind schedule. :sigh: What's a half hour when I haven't even had a clock to reference for the past week? Hugs and kisses were exchanged as I said farewell to my new home on the West Coast for the next couple of weeks. As I sat waiting for the bus I celebrated the most cell phone service I'd had in a while by making some catch-up phone calls. After 45 minutes went by I was tired of chatting and realizing that the conversation among the other bus riders sounded grim. Horror stories were being exchanged about breakdowns, accidents, buses that just never showed up, hours spend on dark interstates while drivers tried to hunt down mechanics. I reminded myself that whatever adventure lay ahead of me would be worth it. I had no deadlines to meet, not schedule to follow - only that I had a plane to catch in two days. This was a good mindset to maintain as I passed the next two hours getting to know my fellow northbound passengers. A heavyset woman of about my age sat on the bench next two me and explained that she was headed North to Salem where she had to catch another bus East to a small town where she worked as a bar back, a job she loathed, "it's all the shit work." she explained. Every 20 minutes or so she would get up and walk over to the road and announce that the bus wasn't coming yet, just another semi that looked and sounded like it could be the Greyhound from far away. There was also a gentleman sporting a Hawaiian style shirt, missing a few back teeth reminiscing about his days driving a semi down 10% grade declines and through canyons from Arizona to Canada. He didn't take many breaks from his conversation and I felt sort of bad to the woman standing next to him, because she didn't get a word in edgewise. She did seem genuinely interested in his stories, though, responding at all the appropriate times with a heartfelt, "oh indeed." or "surely not." At one point during our long wait, we all joked about using our positive thoughts to materialize a bus right before our eyes. Indeed, this idea began when I kindly suggested that we change our energy to a more positive vibe so as not to manifest one of the horror stories actually coming true. Anyways, we decided that if we were to materialize a bus right before our eyes, it might as well be a brand, spakin' new bus with a clean bathroom and comfy seats, and the genuine listening lady laughed as she said, "yes and I would like Deepak Chopra as my seat neighbor."
Well, our sparkly clean, spiritual guru riding bus never showed up, but an old, shabby bus pulled up over 2 hours late, and was most certainly NOT equipped with wifi. A handful of passengers unloaded looking all too relieved to be getting off. A ten year old boy stepped off, looked rather dreadful and puked right there in front of the line of passengers waiting to board. He looked up sheepishly as people gagged and turned away, and puked again. In fact I think he puked a total of 3 times before an adult finally went over to him in a fatherly way, and escorted him away. It totally grossed me out and I all of a sudden though that renting a car, driving an old van, or ANY other mode of transportation would have been a better idea. I said a quick prayer that the ride be smooth, motion-sickness-free and perhaps an attractive, insightful, conscious young gentleman would be my seat buddy? Pretty please?
Good lord the stench of the bathroom was just awful. I soon realized why the gigantic ceiling windows were open and air fresheners were hanging from what used to be functioning fans. Good thing it doesn't rain in Oregon in the summer. The first leg of the journey was just wonderful. Once the bus got moving the smell was sucked out the windows and I sunk into my seat (praying they occasionally vacuum the seats as travelling, dreadlocked hippies often carry lice and seem to be quite high in numbers in Oregon), enjoying my newly updated iPod and the beautiful mountain scene that was flying by. The bus struggled into gear as we carved our way up and over them, lurching and groaning quite a bit. We stopped first in Rosenberg, where I hoped out to use the restroom since there was no way I was going anywhere near the hellhole in the back of the bus. From Rosenberg to Eugene I drifted to sleep for a while, waking up to a stuff neck and pins and needles in my feet. The time really was passing quickly and it was fun reconnecting with people via text messages, a technological guilty pleasure I had missed.
We pulled into Eugene at 1:22 and the bus driver announced that we were to be back on the bus by 1:30. After seeing him leisurely smoke a cigarette in Rosenberg during a 15 minute break that was supposed to only be 5 minutes, I wasn't too worried about time. I really wanted a clean bathroom, a cup of tea and an excuse to walk around Eugene for just a few minutes. To my delight I found Hawthorne's Cafe and indulged in a cup of organic chai tea, a banana, and a very thorough hand washing ( hoping the smell of my hand soap would last me until the bus was in motion). Back on the bus I was just getting back to my comfortable position across the two seats, when a young man asked if someone was occupying the isle seat. I realized that there was slim pickin's as the bus filled up. Moving my stuff to the floor by my feet I realized that the semi-driving, Hawaiian shirt wearing man from our original starting point was signing into the hand of an elderly lady wearing sunglasses. I had noticed him with her at the station earlier and it was clear that she was either his mother or dear friend, and I was touched by the way he communicated with her so patiently and with such compassion. To be deaf and blind must be such an incredibly different way to go through this life and I cherish the reminder of how blessed I am to be gifted with both my sight and hearing. Perhaps this is why he was so chatty at the bus station, having a vocal conversation with someone may not be something he gets to do everyday.
Anyway, I now had a seat buddy who had jumped right into conversation with me about shedding the ego so that we may all live free of suffering. Hm, interesting. In fact, the 3 hours to Portland seemed to fly by as we exchanged stories, ideas, and breakthroughs about coming into a more conscious lifestyle. He went on about finding true love, how women should be served and celebrated, how he had a job to do which is to help wake people up through his music, and he even made sure to tell me I was beautiful and how lucky he was to get a seat next to an angel. As we rolled into Portland he handed me a small gold chain with a small Ankh hanging from it. This is a symbol of eternal life, rebirth and life-giving power of the sun. He thanked me again, and asked if I was interested in hanging out in Portland for a while. A tad overwhelmed from the whole experience I told him it just wasn't in my flow, but we'd be in touch.
I walked out of the bus station into the bright sunshine, warm air and sights, sounds and smells of Portland. Whoa. Culture shock. There were more cars on one street than I'd seen in the whole week I was on the farm. I was tempted and tantalized by the smells of the cafe lined streets and decided that before heading home I'd take myself out to dinner. Only about a block into my walk I realized just how heavy my load was and decided to try the closest place that had a good menu. I found a cute place that fit the bill, except that there were no open tables outside and it was far to beautiful out to be indoors. "Oh I can fix that" chirped the bartender after I explained my decision making dilemma. She dragged a table and chair out onto the patio for me and I chuckled to myself as I thought about how the power of manifestation. I sat there for a long time enjoying a delicious plate of greens, a decadent home-made hummus plate, and a glass of wine. Life is good. After my filling meal something inside of me encouraged me to walk a bit before catching the bus. In fact, I'd eaten such an energizing meal,
why not walk all the way home, this voice encouraged. I loaded up my things, put my iPod on and started walking. Portland felt unfamiliar after only a few weeks, and even more so because I was on foot rather than on my bike. Just how far was Alberta Street from where I was? I pushed the seed of doubt out of my mind, "just keep going" something inside me said. Orange detour signs put a kink in my planned route, and added a few blocks. Maybe I should just walk to the bus, my bag must weigh enough that I'll have to pay to check it, plus I dragged my lap top with me thinking I'd use it on the bus. Again, I shooed the doubt away reminding myself that just 10 minutes ago I was excited about this adventure. Crossing the Steel bridge was a treat as the sun was beginning to set and glistened off the river, casting a pinkish, purplish shade on Mt. Hood. Oh Portland, you have a special place in my heart.
The thing is, Alberta St is uphill from the city center. Uphill with what was beginning to feel more like 100 pounds is no fun. Unfamiliar with the pedestrian way of things, opposed to the bike lane, I found myself having to jog across a few streets which is also very UNfun with 1000 pounds on your back. I took breaks and LOVED my breaks. Throwing off my pack, stretching and shaking things something inside of me said, "just keep going." Crossing a bigger intersection I noticed a young man holding a cardboard sign which I assumed was explaining his current circumstances and asking for money. I had my iPod in so I didn't hear what he was saying, but noticed he was waving to me. I pulled out my ear phones and reluctantly stopped, aware of every extra, stagnant second that did not count as a break because my pack was still on.
"I noticed your pack, looks like your traveling."
"Yep, you could say that"
"You hitch or ride rails?"
"Well, I took a bus here."
"Oh cool, well you ever hitch or ride rails?"
"You mean a train? Yeah I've ridden on trains before"
"I don't mean Amtrak, I mean like freight trains"
"Ohh, no I've never done that"
"Oh, so where ya headed."
"Well, eventually East"
"Like India?"
"No, like Maine."
"Oh, hey you're beautiful"
"Thanks you too, I've really got to be going my bag is super heavy and I've got quite a walk ahead of me."
"Gee thanks, I didn't know that about myself"
"Sure, safe travels"
"Well your travels will probably be safe, so happy travels"
"Thanks and blessing."
Williams is a great bike ride. It's uphill, but it's slow and gradual so you don't really notice your going up hill. When you're on a bike. When you're walking with a million pounds of luggage on your back you notice the hill. Every time I wanted to stop and take a break I did, and every time I started up again I thought, "Well this isn't so bad." I shifted my bags from shoulder to shoulder and adjusted my straps just enough to shift some weight around. I thought about the spinach I had eaten for dinner and how that was pumping through my body giving it energy, and even though my shoulders felt like they were filled with concrete, I did in fact have it in me to keep going. By this point I was way off the bus route I was familiar with. I was walking the bike route I knew, but I didn't want to jump on a bus and end up even farther away from my destination. "Just keep going" something yearned inside of me.
As the sun set I finally came to Alberta street and turned East. Oh Alberta street with your cute cafes, eclectic galleries and fun vibes, I've missed you! Alberta Street is a tease though. It's still a bit of a hike, especially on foot. I finally met up with the number 8 bus route, my original bus route, and even though I only had about a mile left to go (out of what turned out to be a 4 mile walk a ton on my back) I decided to wait for the bus. I called the hotline and it's expected arrival was 12 minutes. It would take me that to walk it if I wasn't carrying a herd of elephants on my back. Wait or walk? "just keep going" something yearned inside of me.
As I finally approached the final stretch of the journey something occurred to me:
the destination is way more exciting when the journey challenges you. At the front door I threw off the weight of the world and collapsed inside. In a way it feels as though I never left. Everything here looks and smells exactly the same. The only detectable difference is me. Different clothes, dusty flip flops, longer hair, higher vibration.
Today turned out to stretch me, challenge me, flatter me, and inspire me. I have more of a journey ahead of me still, and I am excited to stay flexible and open to whatever may come across my path.
Thanks for joining.
My current living situation has been very fitting for my current state of mind. Different people coming and going, venturing off in different directions, on unique adventures. As I write this, a trio of guys are packing up their gear and getting ready to ship off on a bike trip to San Fransisco. They have about two weeks to make the tirp down the coast. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't slightly jealous. Prior to that, the housemates we had living here moved out, one of them heading to West Africa and Europe for a few weeks. These different scenarios continue to remind me of my own yearnings. When I first arrived here in Portland, I could feel the pull of some part of me (which I've been kindly refering to as my ego-self) wanting to attach; put down some roots and really call this place home, maybe even go buy some real curtains for my room. Then I find myself in the travel section of Powell's books, and my heart races as I flip through the World Atlas, and skim over maps. I notice the twinge of envy as the boys pack up their bikes and head South. It is truly lovely here and I am enjoying every moment of everyday (especially since summer has finally arrived!). I find Portland to resonate in so many ways, with the lifestyle I prefer. Yet I also notice that I am getting more comfortable with this sense of non-attachment. I remember that though it may not be what everyone around me is doing, my decisions excite me.
this jungle. I'm not sure what direction we're going to go, I only know that I'm following truth. I also know that I'm going to go one step at a time.
Nepal was an experience that is still playing out for me and alive within me. In each moment of each day since my trip, I am constantly reminded of the world that is out there beyond what I see from my vantage point. Being on the other side of the globe was like a much needed therapy for me. Without a doubt I was awakened in a deeper way then I have been. Every cell of my being seemed to respond to the culture of Nepal. There is a beautiful and mysterious sense of spirtituality engrained in every aspect of life of Nepali people. This sets the perfect foundation for a culture that, amidst political corruption and economic turmoil, rises peacefully above with grace, compassion and generousity. Among the chimming bells of worship, the intoxicating scent of incense, and the sounds of soft chanting I was reminded often that quality of life is not measured by what we have, own or produce. Our souls are not nurished by those material things. Instead our souls crave a deeper, denser satisfaction. One that cannot always be named. It seems in a culture where pride is not associated with a bank account, and success is not measured what you own, there is a sense of fulfillment, peace, happiness, and joy that is contagious. However, I did not learn this from just looking around. I found teachers in the most unexpected place...
