We have just returned to California. Going through the process of shifting gears and adapting to a new version of the old life we’d left a year ago. In some ways, we are new people, and this is another new place. More thoughts on that later, but first, a few words on our last days of travel:
Before stepping out of Gaby and Rupert’s Norwegian cottage for the last time (on this visit) (!), we sat and briefly meditated. The realization came over me that I had managed to return to the place I had left in Norway as a 15 year old awakening woman. 49 years; 7 x 7 years ago. It was at that time in my life that I had first wished to experience Scandinavia, then had been able to go there, and then while there in all its beauty, was so astonished and inspired. That trip shifted my perspective on my life from then on. And here I was again amongst the people and the way of life that I had been so enchanted with so long ago. Not the exact people of course, but the embodiment of the sprit energy that had so inspired me then. The very type of people I had met before. I have lived with Norway in my heart ever since I left in 1968. My son, coincidently, loves a Norwegian woman, and is making a life in Norway with her. She too has threads woven into this tapestry-story, with her glimmers of ancient goddess wise woman. When I see a circle, I see a circuit, I see connection, I see completion. I came this time to Norway in gratitude and curiosity, but never knew what jewels I would find upon my return to that land. Norway is the last chapter (for now) of the beautiful adventure we chose to go on. The cherry on the frosting of the organic home made cake baked with love. Wow.

In an airplane flying back to California. Just had a lovely vegetarian meal with white wine. Listening to great music ( Billy Holiday, then David Bowie). How did we get here? Ha!
What a great year we’ve had traveling! The journey continues. Being in the now. Being present. Watching the next moment unfold. Noticing the scenery as it passes by. Being with each other, being with ourselves. Letting stress go, opening to what’s ahead. Life. Living Life. Love. Gratitude. Compassion. Humility. Staying open and flexible. Resting when needed, relaxing, restoring. Waking to a new day and all it’s offerings. Yes. Yes. Yes. Just keep saying yes.
What stories will be in the next chapter? In many ways it’s ours to decide. A new chapter can be written any time we want. I intend to keep my life and lifestyle simple and functional, within practicality. To continue living small, living light. With wings folded and feathers smoothed, but able to be lifted for flight when inspiration beckons. I treasure and nurture the possibilities of the wild blue yonder.
11:11pm Norway time. Just crossing into the US over Minnesota. Here we go.
Buckle up for the re-entry!  Ready? Yes.

…Timeless…SACRED…eternal…existence…

There has been a shooting in Paris. A policeman is dead and two others are injured. In an email to a concerned friend, Dave has responded:

We had been to the Bois de Boulogne park, on the far west side of Paris, before going to a museum that was not too far from the park. After leaving the museum, we saw that we could walk to the Eiffel Tower before getting a metro back to our neighborhood. We were around the Eiffel Tower from around 8:30 to after 9. It is only just beginning to get dark at 9:00 here. We walked to the metro station and rode the two lines to get home. We stopped for some groceries and were home at around 10:15. After eating a little food and having a little wine we checked into internet stuff, and I saw the news of the shooting online. Then we turned on the tv to watch reporting. So, we were at the Eiffel Tower at the time of the shooting, 8:50, but had no idea of the event until getting home and seeing it online.
While at the Eiffel Tower, there were some speeding police cars, sirens on and racing around a corner to get somewhere, but that seemed normal to me because we’ve seen speeding police cars every day, racing to get somewhere. Normal in a big city, but I would bet those police were headed to the scene. While waiting for our metro train, we saw our approaching train coming through the tunnel, but as it came into view we could see all the lights off and the entire train was empty and it slowly rolled past without stopping. So, that was strange.

I’m mostly feeling sad.

The bright side is that Paris is awesome, and there are a lot of people here. The parks, the tree lined streets, the architecture, the history,the river, the cafes, the metro and street musicians, the ENDLESS beautiful things behind glass windows on sidewalk streets, from the chocolatiers and patisseries, to every conceivable type of art object, to all the garments and shoes and bags. All the open food markets, to the mind- blowing grocery stores with only exotic products that I can’t imagine being available anywhere else, it’s all amazing………a feast for the eyes.
People are happy to live here and people are happy to be visiting here. That is not going to change.

I feel very sad for what’s happening in the world, but the weather is perfect and I’m going to go out soon and enjoy the day. The chance of being in the wrong place at the wrong time is minuscule.

Dave

 Spring has been slowly arriving, day by day. Not for a great many years have I had the pleasure of watching winter’s dormancy awaken into Springtime. It brings back memories of childhood in the north-eastern United States, where I was born in early Spring. My mother taught me to notice the first signs of Spring. From the frigid and dormant winter, we could observe the branches begin to bud, and look alive again. Skunk cabbage would start to poke its leaves, still rolled into a point, up through the snow. The ice on the creek would begin to melt into gurgling water, and soon we would start to see the crocuses forming their blooms in the patches of snow still on the ground. It was exciting; this coming alive again. The hillsides began to turn pinkish with new growth, and then a light shade of spring green. Ma and I would gather budded branches of fruit trees and forsythia, and bring them indoors to open into bloom. In the woods we began to see Trout Lily’s and Spring Beautys, and the buds of Mountain Laurel forming. Next, the forsythia bushes exploded out with fragrant clouds of bright yellow, and the jonquils and tulips painted the landscape in beautiful drifts of color. Here in Slovenia, and all over Europe, Spring is arriving. Witnessing this process again, after the long winter, strikes a primal chord in me, and a part of myself comes out of dormancy.

I have commented before about my quest to deepen my experience of the beautiful places I am visiting. How to settle into quiet meditation, and be more fully present to being alive, being here, in the moment. Art helps me with that. I brought with me, a small collection of paint brushes, oil paints, and 1 small canvas. I have now left them behind, unused, at the French house that serves as our base. It turns out that a sketch pad and a single pencil has taken me to the place I was looking for. Or, shall I say, the tools have been found. I still need to sit, and surrender to the pencil and paper. Here are a few sketches I have done so far.

I must admit, I have a thing for all the old stone structures I see here in France. I love every single one of them. I love them when they stand nearly invisible, alone in the woods…covered in brambles, looking forgotten. I love them when they sit with old cars and farm equipment in them. I love them with roofs slowly caving in and roof tiles slipping downwards in slow motion. I love them lovingly restored and once again lived in. I love seeing their dates sometimes, carved into the front door lentils. Some stand with only 3 walls intact, but one wall may have a beautifully carved granite window frame, and be of Roman era. I love the oldest ones: the round shepherd’s huts that are built igloo style, and still stand against the intrusion of rain. I love the various styles of pigeoneirres that served as dovecotes for doves the way chicken coops serve chickens, only these are royally elegant. And two stories high, with pointed roofs.
I will never, ever tire of seeing them. Each one has it’s own way of pulling a quick breath or a gushing response from me. I have even kissed one or two, on their thick green mossy cheeks. Thank you to whoever built these old stone buildings that I love so much…