Thursday, January 15, 2009

It's been a while...

As trite a statement as it may be, life is full of ups and downs.
(I searched for a good famous person quote about that for about 5 minutes but then I got bored, so you will have to make do with the cliche.)

It amuses me that in retrospect, things either seem much better than they were, or the distance and big picture allows you to see that things were actually much worse than you let yourself believe.

I tend to be tenaciously optimistic, but lately things have been piling up and the blues have come around again. I like to think its mostly dealing with culture-shock, reverse culture-shock and my various medical conditions that have got me down.

So instead of going with my mom on our uphill hike today, I turned and jogged along the flat path. It was nice to let my defeat pound out beneath my feet and feel the glow of the orange afternoon sun as it slung low in the sky. This spring weather has given me the greatest gift of seeing and experiencing my favorite place during my favorite time of year. It's when the skies are so clear and blue that the grass seems crisper, glossier and greener and when the mixture of warmth and coolness in the air feels just like drinking ice water.

And as I powered up the hill towards the end, I was most excited to see my oak tree. You see, when we first moved to the house we're in now, I was in high school. Since I was in 6th grade, we'd been uprooted searching for and then building the nest that my parents had always dreamed of. Not to mention the three or four times we had moved before I entered 1st grade. So I guess I was feeling adrift. I desperately wanted a place, all my own to feel attached to, and wandered up into the hills to find it. And I certainly did.

I remember the first day I found that tree. It was one of those early summer days where everything is held out in sharp relief. I wandered purposefully off the path and was confronted with this massive oak tree. Not only did it provide a vast amount of much needed shade, and not only were its branches perfectly big enough to nap on without falling off, but it was perched perfectly towards the top of the hill to afford a magnificent view of the San Francisco Bay Area.

That tree was where I went to be alone. It was the place I truly felt connected with nature and my surroundings. It was where I lay, five feet above the ground and day dreamed about adventures, first loves and the future. I literally imagined coming back to that very spot as the years passed and the tree and I grew, and lying on that same giant branch and remembering fondly those daydream days in high school.

It was the first place my mind flashed to when people asked me to recall my favorite place in the world. I may have already told you about it.

So today I eagerly rounded the corner and played mountain goat up the side of the hill and as I reached the top I looked around at the unfamiliar landscape in confusion. Then the realization came crashing down on me that the tree had fallen. Five of it's magnificent seven branches had cracked from the trunk, leaving only two, low hanging branches surviving. Instead of a grand canopy, the highest point of the tree is now a severed limb that sticks up in the air, blackened and splintered.

I cried under the shelter of the branches that interlocked as they fell until I heard passersby approaching, whereupon I stared dumbly out across the bay for another while.

And unbidden, the first verse and chorus of a song I used to sing when I was in youth chorus, lo those many years ago, started in my head, and on my lips:

In the quiet misty morning when the moon has gone to bed,
When the sparrows stop their singing and the sky is clear and red.
When the summer’s ceased its gleaming,
When the corn is past its prime,
When adventure’s lost its meaning,
I’ll be homeward bound in time.

Bind me not to the pasture, chain me not to the plow.
Set me free to find my calling and I’ll return to you somehow.


Which seemed to me, suddenly, metaphoric. The Bay Area has this strange hold on me, it's like a comfort blanket. I know what I want to do in life and I know that to do it, I need to go. But it's so much easier and so comfortable to just stay right here where I'm safe and relaxed. It's especially hard to tear myself away now, when I'm navigating a slightly difficult time.

I need to let go and go because I have the rest of my life to be here

As as to that? I leave for Costa Rica in 13 days. I'll be there for 7 months - the longest I will have stayed in one place since I was a junior in high school.

(The song from above is called "Homeward Bound." It's written by Marta Keene. The entire song is as follows:
In the quiet misty morning when the moon has gone to bed,
When the sparrows stop their singing and the sky is clear and red.
When the summer’s ceased its gleaming,
When the corn is past its prime,
When adventure’s lost its meaning,
I’ll be homeward bound in time.

Bind me not to the pasture, chain me not to the plow.
Set me free to find my calling and I’ll return to you somehow.

If you find it’s me you're missing, if you’re hoping I’ll return.
To your thoughts I’ll soon be list’ning, and in the road I’ll stop and turn.
Then the wind will set me racing as my journey nears its end.
And the path I’ll be retracing when I’m homeward bound again.

Bind me not to the pasture, chain me not to the plow.
Set me free to find my calling and I’ll return to you somehow.

In the quiet misty morning when the moon has gone to bed,
When the sparrows stop their singing,
I’ll be homeward bound again.)

1 comment:

Heidi Fuller said...

I know that tree. I love that tree too. If there's one thing left of my girlhood, it's climbing trees. Can't resist them, and that one was the best. Easily 300 to 400 years old. When you get back from Costa Rica, we're going to search all over Mt. Tam to find you a new one.