“All the freaky people make the beauty of the world” – Michael Franti
The first time I went to California was with my best friend and her family. We drove for 6 or so hours from Scottsdale to San Diego in her mom’s champagne colored Mercedes with the sheepskin on the seats. The drive was mostly enjoyable with the exception of my friend’s propensity for carsickness.
It was the first of many trips and an eventual move to California. And the beginning of my love affair with the state.
I miss it. I only lived there for about eight years yet it strangely feels like home. I miss the gumdrop mountains, the big waves of the Pacific, and the characters on State Street. Especially the characters.
On my way to work, I would stop at Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf for an extra sweet chai tea latte. It would get sweeter when I would see my friend Harvey with his great comedic sounding voice and the pins all over his shirt. He always asked me the same question “How’s that eeeasy chair living?”
I miss the Eucalyptus grove located near the bluffs where the monarch butterflies would migrate every winter. Dancing around, their magnificent orange wings appeared like stained glass against the cobalt sky.
I feel more like me when I am in California. It feels like it loves me right back, accepting my flaws as beauty marks and never asking me to change.
There, I learned to love tacos, avocados at every meal, rajas, margaritas, hiking, rosemary and farmer’s markets.
I miss Big Sur and Santa Barbara and San Fransisco. But I never left my heart there. I just have tried to keep what I love about California lovingly inside bringing it with me wherever I go.
So if you see me doing authentic movement at the park or smudging my yard with sage, don’t bat an eye! It’s all good. Please come join me. Everyone is welcome! Even if you get car sick. And especially if you feel freaky.