sculpting a life, lush....

          Sometimes I wonder if this is all an adventure or just torture I put myself through on a regular basis, like a country song on repeat.  I suppose it can be viewed both ways with equal effect.  Some adventure turns into torture, maybe that's what this adventure is becoming.  Or maybe once I endure all the self inflicted torture, I am standing at the edge, the beginning of my adventure.  So many say, "What are you waiting on?"  This is my life, it has begun, stop all this waiting.....waiting for what?  The beginning?  Maybe the adventure is always being on the edge.  The strength taken to get to one point is savoured at the edge of it's existence, before hiking toward the next ridge.  Maybe it's a long ridge, whether wide or narrow, full of falling rocks or abruptly ending.  Am I rewarded with a view?  A vista point, where the scene is enjoyable?  Or must I return on the same torturous path, not yet satisfied with what I have brought before me.  What is this scene I am longing for...the Grand Canyon of my expectations, the rampaging change of an inner storm....or possibly the seemingly unattainable calm of a thinking mind.  When I do think about previous events, they always seem to be a new beginning.  New Years, birthdays, seasons, jobs.  They all seem fresh, a point where anything can happen.  Why is it that I am limiting myself to a calendar of dates to reinvent myself?  I also wonder what the infatuation is with ones reinvention.  I would prefer to not "reinvent" myself, but to evolve.  To evolve into what feels right, comfortable, with only my own stamina to move me along.  My pace and goals may change along the way, an ever evolving measure of satisfaction.  Is it progress, maybe.  It all very well could be the opposite, I could be regressing.  The greener pastures may have turned out to be a pig pen and now I am jumping the fence back to where I came from.  It's just like some smart person has probably once said, "We can't change where we are from, but we sure can change where we will go."  This is why we should only regret what we have kept ourselves from doing, not the wrong turns we have made.  Our boots may be covered by mud from the pig pen, but after a little pouting, we hose them off.
          I take account of the omens I am presented, my sub conscience works in overdrive to sort through it all.  I have been plagued with dreams, though the only time I really worry about myself is when I lack the remembrance of my dreams.  Trying to figure out what it's all for, breaking down internal walls that have been built so high.  I give due consideration for others, though not all.  There are many who's character I enjoy and who's mind I respect.  These people I do truly cherish and remember wholly.  From young to old, I have learned abundantly.  Feeling young at heart and enjoying laughter, from the older generations.  For you will never grow old, if you always feel young at heart.  To wear your heart on your sleeve if you truly believe in something, this way you will always be in tune, a symbiotic relationship.  Learning to learn, being a sponge.  It is children who always learn from every element around them.
          Maybe I am truly a kid at heart.  When you are a child you live for the moment, there has been no definite course of time yet indoctrinated.  Society and social pressures make sure that feeling doesn't last long.  We are socialized, deadlined, over worked, under worked, under appreciated, bullied, bribed.  Pressured to succeed, at school, at work, at home.  Many do not do things for pure enjoyment, but for a reward.  We are rewarded with money, pretty things, a bonus it's called.  We should be rewarded with time.  What is the benefit of money if no time is able to be spent enjoying it.  People try to buy joy, love, appreciation, respect.  But these all come from within ourselves, not a piece of paper.  The idea of "whatever it takes" does not end with enjoyment for most.  In the end we feel swindled, of our time, our passions, our family.  The idea of sticking to it "whatever it takes" or face criticism, bears no true value.  If we do not value ourselves, what are we.  I would rather quit, cut my losses, than try to fool myself into thinking the big picture is what I really want.  It really is all about the little things.  The little things are what we cherish most in life.  The small, yet seemingly insignificant, events that unfold everyday.  It is better to see clearly the little things and appreciate them.  Rather than a large, blurry, out of scale model of what "should be."  Maybe Monet had it right.  If we take a step back we begin to see the details more clearly.
          Perhaps the adventure is not torture.  It is possible I myself have put to much pressure on the blurry sculpture of my life, the torture is unseen.  When I begin to step back from this representation, and begin to appreciate the fine details.  The crevasses and creases smooth.  The jagged crags begin to fit together like puzzle pieces.  Although the scenery is unlike what was expected, the spectacle possesses a humbling charm.  This is my life, I am creating it, and it should exhibit my true passions.  Constant change can be unsettling, yet what is most true takes heed.  With constant change, we also constantly adapt and evolve.  We are able to sculpt ourselves into the person we feel we should be, we never stop learning.  I immerse myself into a new obscure fragment with the beginning of each season.  As the season progresses I gain more about my surroundings and about myself.  The fragment begins to clarify.  This in itself is my lifestyle, a meandering process.  A vagabond....I find myself jaded with warm sunny days, always looking for a greener pasture, though I can only describe my current situation as lush....


~LuRee

the big south....

        As the fog rolls off the coast, I begin my journey north.  A long way from what is my current home; I am again comforted by the smell of the ocean.  The salty air teases my nostrils.  My morning starts in Santa Barbara, coastal wine country.  The livestock here have the best view, only second to the cows that graze in Big Sur.  Big Sur, for this is where my journey is taking me.  Back to friends, familiarity and where the mountains dance with the ocean.  I only wish I were there more often as I feel my encounters may be better documented.  But it is love and longing that brings us our sweetest memories.

        North of Santa Barbara I travel through Buellton and Los Alamos.  Fog still sits in the coastal valleys.  But the sun is working hard today, as the fog is all but gone by the time I make my way into San Lois Obispo.  The highway splits here, the 101 heading up the valley to King City and Salinas, and California Highway One, hugging the coast to Monterey.  My anticipation is heightening.

          

        Just north of San Lois Obispo is Morro Bay.  A chain of nine ancient volcanoes spans the distance.  Morro Rock welcomes visitors with a dramatic appearance.  Boasting a 578ft. summit above the bay, it is also a nesting area for Peregrine Falcons.  I was able to enjoy the view, less the smokestacks, from one of many beaches and also catch some So-Cal surfing in action.

          

        As I continue on, next is Cambria and San Simeon.  This is where Big Sur officially begins.  El Sur Grande, or Big Sur, the big south.  I pull into a turnout above the beach where Elephant Seals sunbath.  It’s a favorite spot for the tourists to see these strange ocean dwelling mammals.  After snapping a few shots, I get back on the road.  Feeling the desire for a warm drink I stop at Ragged Point.  My intentions were to get a coffee; however that quickly changes to a Chai Tea Latte instead.  The lady at the counter has on CNN.  I stay to catch up on a little news, the Tucson shooting, and discuss the tragedy for a moment.  Leaving with the desire to understand how someone could do such a thing, I find no answer in my own mind.  Rolling down the window, I crank the radio; the winding of the road lures me to be lost though I can only continue one way.

        Wanting to stop and jade hunt, I convince myself to settle for the view and continue on to my destination.  As I am led further north, I come to the usual construction at Lucia, more than the last time I came through.  The earth threatens to fall out from under the highway as you drive along.  This is what the California Department of Transportation is continually trying to prevent. 

And yet further north I go.  Before long I find myself passing Esalen and Julia Pfeiffer Burns State Park, I quickly hop out of the car to enjoy the view of McWay Falls.  Knowing that I am so close, but drawn to the view, I keep a slower pace for the next fifteen miles.  Passing the Coast Gallery, then Deetjens, The Henry Miller Library, Nepenthe, Post Ranch and Ventana, I top the hill.  My decent takes me past the Big Sur Bakery, Spirit Garden and The Deli.  Coasting by the Big Sur Station, Sycamore Canyon Road, Pfeiffer Big Sur State Park and around the bend, Fernwood, painted sunny yellow.  One mile to go, I see the Roadhouse on my left and Ripplewood on my right.  Next is Riverside campground.  One more curve, I slow quickly.  Signaling....it’s a sharp left just ahead.  Across the bridge into the campground, I stop at the office.  A gentleman sweeping brush, Justus, welcomes me to Big Sur Campground and Cabins.

~ Big Sur Bakery ~ Pfeiffer Big Sur State Park ~

~ McWay Falls ~ Deetjens ~ Morro Bay ~

~ Los Padres National Forest ~ Friends of the Elephant Seal ~