It is a brilliant life! Awakening to the sound of crows in flight, and seeing the soft horizon of rolling hills in early morning dim-light. Mendocino! How I love your lushness, your vibrant greens and tender violet highlights. Small voles scritch- srcatch the earth under scrutiny of Lulu ears. Phil creates hot coffee and Mate’ mocha blends. I am passing my time in company of Tamara Wider of Peleotechniques. I am admiring her beauty, honoring her tender garden, soaking in the need for my massage techniques on injured muscles and healing minds. The morning had passed quietly, my healers skills applied to tense tendon, and crumpled palm. I skipped toward the chinook with fire in my heart. We were given the task of digging a compost pit, and would stay until Sunday. Sunday! Four full days of wonder and bliss in quietude and circumstantial belonging. Alas, Phil did not feel the same. And into the afternoon light I felt my heart shudder and quake. The soil rich with worms, I roll them in my fists and savor their sweet spirits luminescent against my flesh. The Earthworms in my palm were my best friends. The root-ripped weeds at my feet the sullen heartstrings of my pain. Oh, the anxiety of sudden separation. Phil had pressing business concerning his storage, car, and finances in Nevada County. He needed to care of business. So, he took a ride with the farmstead to hwy 101 & 20 and hitched to Clear Lake at midday. Perhaps, while he was awaiting his next fated ride, the hair on his neck prickled a little, or his eyesight shimmered. For, while he sat in the hot sun, intent on returning himself to his responsibilities, I was staring longingly at the chicken coop. I begged them to go inside their beds. I had to go see if Phil was alright. I felt I had abandoned him, as he had me. Oh, silly heart’s sweet drama and maddening fickleness. What was the point of everything if I were no longer with him? Had these past three months been for nought? Had all my sacrifices and engagements been to send myself into a lonely bliss edging along the coastline with no purpose or companion?
As the sun descended, so too the chickens went to bed. I drove up the dirt road and found Phil hiking a only half a mile up. He had returned to me as I had sought to return to him.
He stuttered something breathless about his travail, and enlightened compromise. That he loved me, and wanted to honor me better and that he was willing to let go of tobacco too. The tobacco too. It takes my breath away.