Santa Monica 2 Sacramento--Road Trip Day 7--ex post facto

I woke up early and went for a longish walk along the palisades along with prayer and meditation amongst the bums. Returned to 3 people ready to get on the road. We mobilized, hit exactly no traffic, and got home by 5pm. It is good to be home.

Santa Monica 2 Venice--Road Trip Day 6--ex post facto

We sleep in (yay, first day to do that!). Which still means that I'm up before teens doing my meditation and prayer and going for a walk. The teens basically don't move until after we eat uninspiring sandwiches in the room.

Then it's the basic walk from Santa Monica to Venice Beach (we called it a half mile to get them moving, it's really a couple). The girls loved the street vendors and shopping. The boys got sick of it.

Eventually we go out on the beach at the northern tip of Venice and plop down. The kids get completely soaked and swim in their clothes (although we had suits with us, they couldn't be bothered to put them on a strategy in which they were ultimately vindicated as I trudged barefoot (what could I have been thinking?!) to a horrible nightmare of a bathroom with God knows what on the floor, no toilet paper, a long line, everything you imagine in a Venice bathroom ... and less...to pee and change into my suit.

Bill heads back as I join the kids for a short swim. Too cold in the breeze to wait to dry off, we do the wetsuit death march back to S.M. If they had been younger they would've been crying the whole way. At this age they were miserably catatonic.

Showers, naps and frantic Googling and Yelping produce an acceptable French restaurant on the Third Street Promenade called Monsieur Marcel--French-style service but a lovely outdoor cafe with solid food.

From their the kids headed back the Ocean View for reading and electronics. Bill and I were off to see The Arsonists at KOAN at the Odyssey in nearby West L.A. It's a recent resurrection/translation of a WWII era swiss play which is, albeit didactic, fascinating, funny and oddly applicable to the current times. I recommend it to people who really love theater, not to people who actually only like plays and movies because it's a bit contrived and stagy for that set.

Sigh, nice to sleep in the same bed twice...

Phoenix 2 LAX--Road Trip Day 5--ex post facto

(published a week and half after the real day in question)
Phoenix, Arizona For the 5th day in a row, we will wake in one place, go to sleep in another 100s of miles away, I am grateful that we have chosen to do this for only a week, not the 3 weeks we originally painstakingly planned (although I also continue to grieve for the abandoned itinerary).

I set the alarm to get up and out of Phoenix before the heat. We are rushing to meet Bill's plane at LAX some 700 miles away. The drive is smooth and fun. You know, all the drives have been fun. The kids have mostly insisted on sitting in the backseats together (so they can talk and conspire against me). It's safer that way and actually seems to give me some measure of freedom up front, plus I can pile all my junk on the seat next to me and easily multitask on the road giving me one more reason to tell the kids to do as I say, not as I do.

On the road trips they read a lot (my mother bought me a Kindle for my birthday and we each have a book on it--like all electronic devices I purchase, they use it a lot more than I do), E plays long games of solitaire on her ipod. N is more likely to occasionally talk with me or initiate one of several games we rotate (the only car games that we or even Hoyles know of: Boticelli, Third of a Ghost, and Geography). We also play a card game called Rubberneckers where you draw cards that tell you what to look for on the road and you have to spot those things to accumulate points. Don't worry, the kids draw my cards for me and tell me what to look for.

The most fun part of Rubberneckers is when you have to make a gesture or something to another driver in another vehicle and get a reaction back. This is surprisingly difficult to effect. N has to make the "Junior birdman" eyeglasses at 10-15 drivers before they give a response other than a hostile glare (which doesn't count). E, as a younger-looking female, has better results than a 6' 3" 15 year old male--and it isn't cute at all but vaguely insane/obscene when I, while driving the car, have to make the airhorn pumping sign to truck drivers (this makes us engage in a lot of nervous speculation and laughter).

Miraculously on this drive without even stopping for lunch, we make it to LAX and Southwest airline's gate in 7 hours on the dot to pick Bill up just as he emerges (the only hitches being a) fitting him in the car and b) weathering a scolding from a belligerent airport security agent for picking him up on the wrong side of the lane. We peel out laughing, happy and, for my part, exhausted and make our way to the Ocean View Hotel in Santa Monica.

Upon arrival we voluntarily accept a steep discount to downgrade from an ocean view room with a balcony to a back-room with neither. With two double beds and a single futon on the floor we are cramped but happy. At the risk of offending millions, I feel a little like a happy immigrant family grateful to be out of the refugee camp and into our own space. Bill Yelps us to the Iterim Cafe, a vegan-friendly wheat free eatery on Wilshire a few blocks from the hotel. The food is fresh, imaginative and delicious (although the joint is clearly more of a happening business lunch spot than dinner, we are happy to have the place to ourselves). I stagger with exhaustion down the third street promenade and shortly thereafter collapse in the room while Bill takes the kids down to the pier for a turn on the ferris wheel.

Hopi 2 Phoenix--Road Trip Day 4--ex post facto

The early light and impending heat wakes us and convinces me to convince my kids to take a run with me on the reservation land adjacent to the housing development (apparently there is a good dirt road to run on). Our 11-year old hostess leads the way as the teens and I play out an age-old Tortoise and Hare story with them, of course in the role of the Hare. The go much faster, but I am the only one to run the whole way and finish--ha!

After a fascinating chance visit with a friend of our hosts who works for the Hopi Foundation (we exchange prayers and note similarities between our traditions--mine being religious science), we head off for an official tour of a largely ceremonial but partially functional ancient village of Walpi. It is strangely familiar as if from a dream (or, more likely, I learn upon returning home to consult with my husband, he and I toured the same village about 10 years ago on our own romantic tour of the region before our friends lived on the reservation).

After making sandwiches for a large group, we hit the road early for Phoenix, our next destination. It's a long hot drive beautiful at first, then odd as we tour the recent ghost town of Two Guns and pass an extremely life-like Giant Baby that briefly convinces me I've lost my mind.

We arrive at my college friend's downtown Phoenix paradise on the hottest day of the year so far, 115 degrees as we dock. He and his partner are mixed use downtown pioneers in a city that otherwise stands as a poster child for sprawl. They have built a tiny but gorgeously detailed and thought through two-story plus building with a gallery and marketing business offices on the first floor and beautiful apartment and glorious deck on the second.

Despite the heat, we can't resist grilled chicken and veggies out on the deck with spectacular views of both of Phoenix's office clusters to the north and south and mountains to the, what, north and east? Our hosts, Russ and Mike are by turns charming, self-deprecating and awe-inspiring bringing us up to speed on the latest in their rich despite cash-poor existence. The evening ends with a full tour of the house, the highlight being the latest exhibition in their gallery: local artists' completely reworking and painting of reclaimed refrigerators--the kids are enchanted by the color and imagination, not to mention the lavish notion of taking an elevator downstairs in one's own home to one's own business and gallery--wow!

See this video for a tour by my daughter of the fridge art:


As I drift off to sleep, I am, not for the first time, moved to tears with gratitude for remaining and even growing closer to Russ over the 30 years since our escapades in the student government of Reed College. Not all my old friendships have taken this trajectory--what a blessing this is!

Grand Canyon 2 Hopi Nation--Road Trip Day 3--ex post facto

(this is the third in a series of posts put up almost two weeks after I actually went through these days).
It was a perfect starry cool night at the Grand Canyon and I slept great. The next day I awoke slightly dizzy from the altitude, N had a cold and E was grumpy and had a blister from walking miles in flip flops in Vegas. So we dubbed ourselves, "Dizzy, Cold and Toe Package" and headed off for a wimpy hike on the western part of the South Rim--which is nonetheless an amazing 12-mile section where you can hike a section, get on the bus for a section, hike a section. We only walked a little over 2 miles but were astonished how few people were actually on the trail with us--we often had the canyon to ourselves. Despite the beauty and occasional solitude, it was quite the contrast to the fantasy I have of backpacking to the floor of the Grand Canyon--still very much a goal of mine.

For a variety of reasons, at the end of the walking day, we decide to forgo the second night on the rim and pack up to head to our next destination: Hopi Indian Reservation. With no cell phone coverage in the Park, I buy an old school calling card from a machine and use it at a pay phone. It costs about 25 cents a minute.

We called our friends who live on the reservation, "can we come earlier?" they say yes, despite a brief worry that we're being held hostage (long story).

As I hang-up, I shake off a concern that I should have asked for more precise directions. Surely I've got all I need in my compulsively assembled folder of information printed out from the computer weeks before the trip and checked the night before and morning that we left.

We break camp quickly and have a beautiful late afternoon departure from the park. No traffic on a Wednesday afternoon. Grateful for last minute advice to head out the eastern rather than southern exit (thereby avoiding a long detour that Mapquest wanted us to take through Flagstaff), we head over to the great metropolis of the drive, Tuba City, population 85 on the edge of the Hopi Reservation.

In Tuba City we chance dinner at the "Szechuan Restaurant" staffed by American Indians. It serves surprisingly tasty food--better than any Chinese I've had in Sacramento (with a huge Chinese population--a subject for a whole nother blog).

As turn onto highway 264, I reset my mileage indicator on the car, telling the kids that the only "address" we have is a milepost on this highway (something that has made me a little nervous from the start). As I check my web-aided directions I learn that in fact, I don't even have that milepost, I just have the spot that Yahoo Maps decided was the right point on the highway when I entered that milepost into the search engine. I gulp and soldier on.

The spot on the map turns out to be the Hopi Cultural Center (which I actually recognized from a previous trip with Bill). We look around nearby and see nothing remotely resembling the type of dwelling my friend (a physician working for the Hopi Nation and her family) would be likely to live in. I pull out a package of quarters and head for the payphone to call the house. Their 11 year old answers and brightly informs us that she has no idea how to tell us to get to her house from where we are, or even where we are. She vows to call her parents and call us back. She doesn't.

About to call her again, I see a group of random natives leave the cultural center. Acting on a hunch, I call out, "excuse me, do any of you know Andy and Anna Lewis?" They do. A nice pair approach me and give me flawless directions. It is another 10 miles. If we boogie, we can maybe make it before dark (fairly important as there are no lights of any kind on the highway).

We book east, finding by far the most modern development on the stretch, a small southwest style subdivision built to go with the large health center in which Anna works. We easily find their home and the adventure ends with a warm reception, 2 dogs, 3 cats and a great evening passed in conversation (for me) and reuniting with internet (for teens).

Vegas 2 Grand Canyon--Road Trip Day 2--ex post facto

(posted a week later) Waking up in Vegas, the city that never sleeps (and we were there on the Summer Solstice no less, so fitting to be somewhere completely electric light dependent on the longest day of the year!), we mobilize quickly for the 2 mile walk from our hotel room to the car in the Circus Circus parking garage. Well, first the kids ride on the roller coaster (say it's very good and big, not a tiny one like most hotels have ;)).

We drive out headed for the antithesis of Vegas, from a man-made wonder of the world to one of nature's greatest triumphs, the Grand Canyon. On the way we crawl through Hoover Dam traffic (I wondered when the concierge said "you have to go around the dam to get to the Grand Canyon" in a sort of weary voice, and now I know, you inch along for miles before the dam). On the plus side, the kids enjoyed referring to "dam traffic" and wondering if we could stop for a "dam soda" or "dam french fries"--we didn't.

The dam traffic, you'll be glad to know, is caused by keeping our nation and the Colorado River reservoir safe by requiring each car to slow down so that a couple of dumpy (I should talk) uniformed women can peer in to the vehicle for a 1/2 second to determine whether you're a terrorist likely to blow up the dam. What are they going to see? Anything short of dynamite piled on the front seat with a lighter is likely to escape their attention. That's me above in front of the Hoover Dam.

Arriving at the Grand Canyon at dusk is, of course breathtaking. E had wondered for the last few miles, "is this canyon really going to be so grand? Or is it just going to be another big canyon?" I didn't try to convince her of anything, just said, "you'll see." And she did. I had seen it twice before. First time for the kids.

Our camping spot in Mather Campground on the South Rim was wonderful--in a quiet non RV corner, right up against a large patch of no campgrounds (in which we saw an elk as we were making camp but we didn't act fast enough--see this video for details: ).

Sacramento 2 Vegas--Road Trip Day 1--ex post facto

Road trip day 1, the kids and I depart Sacramento for Las Vegas, NV. Long day, leaving at 8am arriving 6pm with few stops. We stay at Circus Circus hotel on the far end of the strip--$23 a night on expedia and worth every penny (but not more). The entire hotel common areas reek of cigarette smoke. The carpet is ancient. It takes 20-30 minutes to get from our hotel room to the front of the hotel.

But the room is clean and serviceable and quiet. There is no smoke detectable there. There is s large roller coaster inside the hotel. Did I mention it costs $23?

From there we run/walk a mile plus to dinner reservations at Tacqueria Canonita alongside a canal at the Venetian. The kids love the fake outdoor setting (somewhat reminiscient of the Pirates of the Caribbean restaurant at Disneyland). The thing is the food is actually excellent. E's enchiladas are to die for. N's steak is fabulous. My fish and pineapple tacos are super tasty. It costs $70 for the 3 of us, considered a deal for such a meal.

From there we plow across the street to the Mirage. It's dark now and we ooh and aah as we go. None of us have ever seen the strip at night before. (no not me either, unless I was a small child and don't remember it). We watch Love the Beatles Cirque du Soleil show at the Mirage (totally sold out to a huge crowd at 9:30pm).

It is amazing! A must see. (:)(:)(:)(:)(:) I honestly don't know when I've seen a better show of anything ever. The combination of acrobatics, costumes, staging, dance set and most of all previously unreleased Beatles studio recordings music is unparalleled. I loved every minute of it even though I was dog tired and I'd like to see it like 10 more times.

Vegas was way too much. Too much people. Too much lights. Too much money. Too much everything. I wasn't unhappy to leave after less than 24 hours there but I also wish I had a week there (at a quiet hotel near but not on the strip). The kids loved it and I'd like to let them explore all the other things they wanted to see.

Watch out for the tiny man of Southside Park

For several months, my son and I have noticed a little man that walks around Southside Park in our neighborhood. Walking around the park is apparently this man's livelihood. It is virtually impossible to go to the park at any time of day or night and not see the tiny man.

The tiny man is very sweet and friendly. He seems to recognize us and smiles and waves and says hi. It always makes me happy to see the tiny man.

This brings me to the reason for this post: the tiny man is shrinking. When we first saw the man, he was, maybe 4' 10". He's elderly; he's from a smaller people than we are; and so his height seemed fairly within the norm. But now, a few months later, he is only about 4 feet tall. Not only that, but every day that we see him, he seems to be even shorter. My son and I theorize that he is literally walking himself into the ground.

Like the tigers in the Little Babaji story who slowly turn into butter as they chase each other around a bush, the tiny man of Southside Park may lose as much as a 1/16 of an inch for every lap we walks. At 50 laps a day, that's an alarming rate of shrinkage.

My point is that soon the tiny man of Southside Park will be so small that we will have to take care not to step on him or injure him. So please, as you walk in or near Southside Park (like if you go to our famous farmers' market on Sundays under the freeway), take care and watch out for the tiny tiny ever tinier man.

P.S. The image shown right of the woman holding the tiny man says that it is not to be used without permission, but that is exactly what I am doing. What do you think will happen to me?

My Synchronicities with Jungians

The great psychologist C. G. Jung coined the term "synchronicity" to refer to those coincidences that occur to which we attach great meaning. Deepak Chopra later wrote a book on coincidence called The Spontaneous Fulfillment of Desire: harnessing the infinite power of coincidence which convinced me that Jung was right: paying attention to coincidence is a power clue to one's life purpose. As Chopra puts it, a coincidence isn't interesting because it occurs, a coincidence is interesting because we noticed it. The coincidence or synchronicity is a clue to what is most important to me on the level of my "non local intelligence" or what Jung would call the unconscious mind.

So I pay attention to coincidence. Recently I not only had a couple of big coincidences, they were Jungian coincidences. Not in the sense that EVERY coincidence is Jungian, but in the sense that they involved Jungians.

Coincidence 1: I stayed for 2 days at a wonderful retreat center in Lake County (above Calistoga, CA) called the Four Springs. On the last day, in a closing ceremony someone read aloud the names of the four founders, all of whom were Jungians. I audibly gasped (causing some concern with my ministerial classmates) when she read the name "Lucille Nixon." Lucille Nixon (I checked, it's the same one) was a close friend of my grandparents who ultimately willed her half of a cabin in Yosemite to my grandparents (who owned the other half). Although that cabin burned to the ground in 1990, we rebuilt in 1998 and to this day I spend many waking hours either in that cabin or wishing I was in it or helping other people get in it. What a thing!

Coincidence 2: I just finished a distance course on the gnostics taught by Dr. Stephan Hoeller of Los Angeles. Noting that he teaches from a Jungian emphasis and that he is in Hollywood and that he is of an advanced age and that he had a drawing from the Tarot on one of his materials, I wrote him a note with my first paper submission telling him about my Jungian inheritance from my grandmother Sally Nichols who worked with Jung in Zurich some and who at the end of her life wrote Jung and Tarot: an archetypal journey, a wonderful book that was translated into many languages and survived many printings (now out of print).

He wrote back that he knew my grandmother, had heard her lecture on Jung and the Tarot and had written a book himself on the tarot! He is inviting me down to visit him and see his gnostic church (in which he is a Bishop). How cool is that?