Traveling

         My sabbatical (according to the extensive grant application I wrote) is focused on healing time and towards that I said there were several activities that were healing for me: gardening, hiking, and writing being three of those.  Towards that end, I divided the three months into different sections:

1. Rest and work on my own garden

2. Travel through California with my girls to see and visit gardens throughout the state to learn and gain more ideas for continued work on my own garden.

3. Visit Iona to hike, pray, write.

4. Go on a garden tour of England and Wales with David

5. Walk the Camino with my son.

6.  Continue to work on my garden at home.

Yesterday I finished part 3.  In a reverse of how we began our time in the UK:

 We walked to the ferry,

Took the ferry from Iona to Mull.

Took the bus across the Island of Mull.

Took the ferry to Oban.

Took the train back to Glasgow.

Walked to our hotel.

We had nothing else scheduled for the day, which turned out to be a good thing.  I mentioned in another blog post that there would undoubtedly be challenges but I would strive to see them as adventures.  Yesterday was our day of “challenges”.  First, the water was extremely choppy because the high winds continued.  As a result, the ferry arrived on Mull a bit late: it just couldn’t go the speed it usually does.  That meant the bus left late, though it had waited for the ferry to arrive.  Then, as we were on the drive around Mull, the bus actually broke down.  By the time they were able to do a “bandaid repair” on the bus to get us the rest of the way around Mull to the repair hub (which was only about .2 miles from the ferry terminal), the ferry had left.  That meant we all waited for the next ferry, two hours later. This set a number of people back, but we had actually sort of prepared… we’d bought a late train ticket to get back to Glasgow, just with a sense that we didn’t want things to be rushed “just in case” there were problems.  so we caught the train just fine, but apparently one of the train lines had had a fire, which meant the train we took was re-routed a different way to get back to Glasgow.  What was supposed to be a three hour train ride actually took SIX!!  AND, the train terminal where we were supposed to exit was closed, so that added a short extension to our walk at the end.  It all worked out fine: again, we had nothing else scheduled for the day and we had more interesting conversations with locals.  One man in particular wanted to talk politics with us (which I’m happy to share with anyone interested) but also wanted to give us some of his Scottish snacks, which were interesting. Another family talked about what they had done in Scotland and where they were headed, and another couple shared with us what they thought we ought to see while in London.  What continued to be interesting to me is that many of these folk also shared about recent losses they’ve experienced: one woman sharing that her brother had just died, another that his wife died nine months ago.  I don’t know what I carry that invites this, but I’m always happy to be a support and to listen.  It just continues to feel like an unbelievable privilege to me when folk go deep with me: and to have these strangers choose to do so was another unexpected gift.  When we finally arrived in Glasgow it was fairly late. We ate our Scotland-required fish and chips for dinner and then went to bed.

Today then was another travel day.  We took the train to London from Glasgow: a beautiful ride that again took a large part of the day.  More interesting conversations: one with a nurse whose daughter is getting married this weekend and another who works to provide supported housing for the mentally ill.  That was an amazing conversation, and we had a lot in common to talk through.  We arrived here at 2PM which gave us enough time to be regular tourists for the afternoon: seeing Buckingham Palace, the Elizabeth Tower (Big Ben), Trafalgar Square as well as several beautiful parks: St. James Park, Parliament Square Garden, the Queen’s Gardens, and ending it all with high tea at the English Rose. This evening we have the great treat of going to see The Mouse Trap live in London’s west end!  I can’t wait!!  It’s the longest running show in the world and as a big Agatha Christie fan, I couldn’t NOT see it!  Tomorrow we return to focusing more on Gardens and Parks.  We are planning to go to the Kew in the morning and then I will walk Hyde park while David works.  

The main thing I learned from all of this was that I really don’t care to be a regular tourist most of the time. I’m glad to say that I’ve actually seen Buckingham Palace and Big Ben. But we didn’t go inside either: Neither of us were interested.  What I really value is talking with people, experiencing a bit of the culture and walking in the gardens, parks and natural landscapes of the areas.  When we arrived at the train station here and disembarked into huge crowds of people rushing, pushing, trying to get to wherever each was going, I felt overwhelmed and like I just wanted to hide. We had to take a subway (or the “underground”) after the train and it was even more crowded, loud and overwhelming. On the one hand, I appreciate not paying for taxis or cars but actually traveling the way most people travel.  But I found myself texting the kids with the phrase, “Once again, I’ve been reminded that I am NOT a city girl!”  That is definitely part of it.  But also, I feel like the tourist traps, or the things that people usually come to see keep those who visit them at a surface level of interaction with a different place and people.  I’m not so interested in that surface level interaction.  I want to know how people think and feel, I want to get to know the landscape and the land itself, I want to see the animals and watch them in their home places.  

I find myself increasingly grateful for the few days we had on Iona that were just mine to walk, to write, to attend services, to talk to folk, and to just be.  I’m glad we began our European time there, and I’m aware that I could easily have spent much more time there.  It was a centering gift; and a time that I will reflect on often for the gifts it gave. I’m going to end this for now as we need to take the underground to see our play this evening.

I hope all of you are well. While I miss you, I feel connected to you all still through my writing: it feels like I’m writing letters to a friend.  So thank you for reading these my letters to you.

 

A Little Piece of Heaven.

     Today I did the hikes I had wanted to do yesterday: in particular to St. Columba’s Bay, over towards the quarry and then back around and up to Port Ban.  Incredible, all of it!  I will try to upload a video from the Bay for you below… again, with the pictures issue that I’m having, I’m not positive I can make that work, but I will try. Today’s hike was a bit over eight miles.  Yesterday I walked ten miles, though the obvious difference was the terrain.  Yesterday was gentle hills on paved or gravel roads, today was hills, rocky terrain, on paths that were many times barely discernible. The other, more profound difference was how the hike to St. Columba’s Bay felt, and seeing/touching the water of the bay in particular.  Both days I walked alone. While David is here on Iona with me, he is not a hiker.  Additionally, his work has required that he has to still manage to get in 40 hours of work during the three weeks he will be with me in Europe, so he is taking the unscheduled, quiet days on Iona to try to get some of those hours in.  I was actually looking forward to having the quiet, meditative and reflective as well as prayerful time to walk by myself.  None the less, the solitary walk to the North of Iona yesterday was stressful for me: or it produced anxiety for me.  I didn’t see anyone, and I felt nervous about that.  While Iona is pretty safe, I carry with me the reality from home that 50% of women in the United States will be assaulted during their life times, many of those more than once. Walking by oneself as a female is generally not considered wise or safe. If someone had approached me, there would be no one else around to call to for help.  I couldn’t shake it.  I kept trying to just breathe and be in the present, but was unable to do so.

    On today’s hike I also saw no one until I was almost all the way back from St. Columba’s Bay.  But it felt different.  There was no anxiety.  There was instead a calm but strong sense of being where I needed to be in the moment.  I was searching for the trail much of the time, as well as trying to hold my phone with its trail app to make sure I was at least in the right vicinity while at the same time using my poles in the hope that the extra support would prevent my knee acting up. The wind today was still quite strong, and at one point the clouds let loose and I ended up quite soaked.  And yet, despite all this, I kept being astounded by the beauty at every turn, the wildlife and the joys of hearing the sheep and birds talk to one another and occasionally even to me.  It was incredible.  Not a “destination” but really the point of being here: the hard journey which was rewarded at every turn by something beautiful and unexpected. 

    As I stood on the beach I felt tears pouring down my face in awe and wonder at what was before me, and found myself repeating, almost unconsciously the mantra “Thank you, God” over and over and over. The video I attach will not do it justice, and yet, it’s all I can do to try to share with you this little piece of heaven that was the gift of the day for me.

And a few photos: 

Becoming

We’ve only been on this journey 3 and days.  But so far the number of interesting conversations I’ve had with strangers has been beyond my expectations. Below I name just a few of those interactions:

On the bus bridge between BART stations I had a conversation with a woman who had just come back from walking the Porto-Santiago part of the Camino: the same path Middle and I will be walking. We had a wonderful conversation about knee problems and how to make the walk pleasant and possible.  We talked about our sons (she walked with her adult son as I will be walking with mine).  It was truly a delightful and unexpected conversation.

While waiting for the ferry to Mull, I ended up in a conversation with a stranger who worked on Iona for 24 years.  She shared with me about her life, her time on Iona, her little house on Fionnphort, and then she also shared that her husband had died 9 months ago, what happened, what that has been like for her and how she is surviving it.  While that part of the conversation was not necessarily “fun,” it was valuable and deep.

In my blog post yesterday I shared about the conversation I had with the young man studying to become a Jesuit priest.  That conversation about our lives, faith, trust, spirituality, continues to cause reflection and learning for me.

This morning at breakfast I ended up in a conversation with a couple at the table next to us.  The man worked as a head librarian for the highlands while his wife owned a book store.  Now retired, they are active in the Church of Scotland as elders and we spent an hour discussing all of our connections and what Iona has meant to each of us.

At lunch today, I ended up talking with a large group of folk who are here on pilgrimage from the US.  Many are pastors, some Presbyterian, and some from the Bay Area! They encouraged me to join a group called “clergy with cats” on FaceBook so we can stay connected.

These are a few of the conversations I’ve had so far.  I’m sure there will be more conversations like this: we have only been on the road since late Saturday, and much of that time involved confined travel situations.

But what I have learned from reflecting on these is a couple things: First, almost always there are ways we can connect with those around us: there are things we share in common, and opportunities to learn from the differences.  Each of these connections with strangers included gifts.  Each conversation provided chances for me to learn more deeply about the world and about others, to restore some faith for me in humanity in general, in the kindness of the world, and in the deeper connections and similarities we all share. 

Secondly, with each conversation, as I looked over at David, he was laughing and shaking his head.  I asked him if it bothered him that I was having all these conversations with strangers, and his response was, “No, of course not!  This is just YOU!”  But what I realized is that I don’t, or at least I haven’t, seen myself this way.  What I mean is that I generally self define as shy, as introverted, as socially awkward and as withdrawn.  I see myself as a person on the outside of what is happening around me much of the time. But seeing myself through David’s eyes, I have come to realize that maybe the shy, withdrawn version of myself was more about my own sense of insecurity than anything real about who I truly am.  I’m growing past those insecurities, and as a result I feel more able to be who I really am.  I’m moving more into a place of not caring as much about other people’s judgements of me.  I am more willing to take the risk of being disliked and feel less intimidated into trying to be the person I believe other people want me to be.  I’ve seen this in other parts of my life as well. My eldest child has much of my social awkwardness, but they also are not afraid to be who they want to be.  They wear clothing that doesn’t necessarily fit into current styles, and they still (at the ripe old age of 24) are willing to grab my hand in public.  They burst into singing in places like grocery stores and while walking.  It’s not that they are unaware that others find these behaviors odd: they simply don’t care.  And I’m finding that I don’t either.  Eldest gets to be who Eldest chooses to be, and I feel nothing but pride at their decisions to live as they want, even when that means others around them don’t or won’t understand or appreciate their choices.  Being around Eldest has also given me some courage to choose for myself as well.  When they start to sing, sometimes I will join them, just because I want to, for example. 

Moving past other people’s judgments also encourages me to move beyond my own self-judgments.  Today, for example, we are on the incredible Island of Iona.  As I planned my time here, I saw it mostly involving walking, hiking, meditating, praying, and attending services.  I did walk this morning and it was wonderful and lovely.  But currently it is raining, it is extremely windy with a bitter gale that I simply don’t enjoy.  So, I am sitting in a beautiful conservatory in the inn and writing.  I am listening to the wind and the rain, but within the confines of a dry and comfortable space.  My inclination in making this choice was self-condemnation, “Barbara Ellen, you SHOULD be taking advantage of your time here to walk, to hike!  You will regret it if you don’t!”  Maybe… or maybe I will appreciate that this is my time, and I am doing what is making me happy in this moment, looking out at the ocean while sitting surrounded by geraniums and listening to the sounds of nature around me. Life doesn’t always happen in the ways we expect.  And that is more than okay. 

The conversations I’ve been having with strangers are just one part of moving into being who I want and choose to be.  Sitting and writing instead of walking in the rain and wind is another piece of that as well.  I am so grateful for today and for this time.

Help

 Travel today/yesterday presented many opportunities to care for those around us.  While we were on BART a woman made an impassioned plea for monetary help.  Usually I will give in those moments, but the only currency I was carrying was Euros… not very helpful. I did think about talking with her about sources of help, but she was at the other end of the train and I was trapped by our carry-ons from getting up to help. Undoubtedly those are both poor excuses, and I find myself reflecting on that today. Then later, a man was trying to pick up a woman on the BART train.  She was clearly uncomfortable with it, and he kept pushing: kept inviting her to leave her plans and go do something with him. At one point I considered stepping in to help, though she seemed to handle it on her own.  Sometimes in situations like that I wonder if it is more helpful or disempowering for others to step in.  Does it take away her sense of self-agency if someone needs to rescue her?  Or does it help her to feel supported?  Sometimes I honestly don’t know. Then at the airport in London, I was standing near an elevator and heard a woman inside yelling for help.  She was crying and saying, “please help me!”  I pushed the elevator button and found her alone in the elevator, huddled down in the corner.  I asked her if she needed help but she stood up, ran out of the elevator and up the escalator nearby, crying the whole time.  Then today we were on the bus to go around the island of Mull on our way to catching the second ferry to get to Iona (complicated, I know), when the bus driver made the decision to stop and ask a young man walking the road if he wanted a ride as well.  He said he did.  He ended up sitting across the isle from us and so we started talking.  He said that he and a friend have been traveling the Scottish highlands with absolutely nothing but what they can carry.  No food, no money, no phones. Interesting.  We gave him 10 pounds, not because he asked for it (he didn’t), but because it seemed the right thing to do. Interestingly, this opened the door to conversation and it turns out he is studying to be a Jesuit priest and part of what their class is doing is spending time seeing if they can live on the kindness of strangers. It led into further and deeper conversation when I shared that I was actually a Presbyterian pastor.  And I found myself deeply grateful that this time the kindness came back to me in such an amazing way.

Still, this all felt like a LOT.  Why were there so many opportunities to help others?  Why were there so many people in need in the airports and BART trains and buses?  Is it that there are more people in need these days?  Is it that I’m more aware of it now?  I feel like humans are becoming more and more isolated from one another, and frankly more callous in our response to the needs of others. Maybe this is even more the case because it seems the needs around us are growing exponentially and we feel overwhelmed by the amount of help required. But all of these people are FAMILY: they are all siblings to us, all valuable as part of the human family, as part of creation.  And I do believe we have a responsibility to help one another, to support one another, to connect to one another, despite the growing distance of people around us.  We are called to choose something different, to remember our connections and our responsibility to care for one another.  So I will be keeping my eyes open, and trying in each moment to choose kindness, compassion and help.

On the other side of this, today (our third travel day) we, too, ended up relying on the kindness of strangers.  We walked from our hotel in Glasgow to the train station, took the train to Oban, where we caught the ferry to Mull, as I mentioned above.  But everything was running late.  The train kept needing to stop, the ferry started late, the bus across Mull ran into some problems on the road.  Our second ferry, then, the one that took us to Iona was supposed to run at 6:15: the last ferry crossing of the day.  But at every step of the way others were kind, and others waited.  The bus across Mull did not leave at the time it was scheduled to do so because the ferry from Oban had not arrived.  The ferry to Iona did not leave because the bus around Mull had not arrived.  It waited over a half hour.  There weren’t very many of us, maybe a dozen, who were crossing to Iona.  And I know that in all these cases the drivers, the crew on the boat… that all were late ending their day because they were helping strangers. But they did it anyway, for the few of us traveling this way.  And while it caused a bit of inconvenience for them, for us it was a great gift.  We made it here, we are settled in now to our little room where we will be for the next 3 nights, we are happy and content and for myself I feel a bit more hopeful about the kindness possible from humanity.  

Kindness makes a difference.  Every time.

Waiting

 In the last 24 hours we have driven to BART, taken BART to Mission street where BART is closed for repair work, taken a bus then to the Daly City BART station, taken BART again to SFO, flown to London, then flown to Glasgow, then took a bus downtown where we walked to our hotel.  All of it has involved a great deal of waiting. We waited at the Concord BART station for the train.  Then we exited the train at Mission, we waited for the bridge bus.  Then we waited for the next BART train.  We waited at the airport for our flight. Then we waited as we flew the 9 ½ hours to London.  We waited in the London airport for a couple hours, then once we were on the plane, we sat and waited another hour for our turn to take off.  We waited for the bus downtown, and the list goes on.

As we spent the day waiting for each thing, one or both of us could be found saying, “I just want to get to…”, an expression of that waiting, but more, a phrase that shows we are not living in the moment, but living in wait, and in anticipation, of what will come next.

I was reminded of the movie “Click.”  For those unfamiliar with it, Adam Sandler’s character was given a universal remote for his life.  He could forward through the parts that he didn’t want to experience, or that involved “waiting” to get to the things he enjoyed.  But he found that more and more of his life disappeared in the fast forward mode. While it is a story, I wonder if it isn’t also an accurate reflection of how many of us live our lives: waiting for what we look forward to, waiting for what we enjoy, and finding ways to “fast forward” (or really, tune out) those parts of our lives that aren’t exactly what we want, sometimes by playing on our electronics, sometimes by zoning.  Other times we simply experience impatience or even anger at those times of waiting. 

Surely there are other, healthier choices.  I am taking this moment of “waiting” to write, to think, to reflect.  I’ve been thinking that maybe I should keep a stack of thank you cards with me, and use those moments of waiting to write notes of appreciation to loved ones. At this moment I could be talking to David or resting my eyes. I could be meditating.  I could be praying.  But mostly, I could take this moment to look around me in gratitude at what this time and space has to offer. 

The only time we really have is now, this moment. Living in either the past or the future is failing to live at all. Since we can’t change the past, and don’t know what the future really holds, working to stay present in the now and appreciate the gifts of each moment is the only way to truly live this beautiful life we’ve been given. It is short, and fleeting.  And at least for me, this challenge of learning to just BE in the now is a lesson worth the attention it requires.

Getting ready to go...

      The few days that we've been home have been... well, they've been a lot.  Not only did it take the eight hours to move pictures from my phone to my computer, but my computer eventually crashed and David had to reformat and rebuild it, meaning I've needed to then put everything back on it. The transferring of photos, this side of the rebuild, continues to be a problem, but the rest seems better, at least for now. Then, on David's car (the I3), the door stopped latching and would not close. We took it in and were told that, though the car itself is now only worth about 6K because of age, it would cost us 5K to have it fixed.  Obviously, makes no sense.  So we are now a two car family for the five of us. It's ironic: we have had every expectation for a while now that the Mazda and/or the Camry would die.  Both are quite old and truly on their last legs.  The I3?  It's a 2016, which for us is a "new" car.  It never occurred to us that it would have an issue which would make it no longer worth fixing.  I think being down to two cars will be fine: Middle and Youngest are usually in school, David works from home, Eldest is in on-line grad school and my work is close enough to home that we probably don't need more than two cars. Still, taking the car in, having it assessed, cleaning it out, selling it back to BMW (for a pittance, since it is broken, after all) took time. Then both Youngest and Eldest had doctor's appointments for various issues, which meant blood needed to be taken from young adults who have serious needle phobias and for whom the taking of blood is very traumatic. They needed me with them, therefore, something I wanted to do anyway.  My own issues with my knee and toe have also meant doctor's visits, more X-rays, filling of prescriptions, and more. The cat who has thyroid issues also needed rechecking and obtaining more medication. We are needing to take out a loan, and the paperwork has yet to be signed, though we leave tomorrow.  This has involved many phone calls and trying to push things forward.  I've realized I need a couple important items for our trip: the Camino part of it, in particular, and have been running around to different stores trying to obtain them.  All of this is in addition to packing, trying to figure out how to take the needed things for various different parts of the trip while still having room for David to bring home some of Middle's things from Norway so Middle and I can walk the Camino with minimal "stuff."  There is more... some of which is very personal to family members that I cannot share, as well as the normal living activities of grocery shopping, paying bills, showing the kids what will need to be done around the house while we are gone...  Needless to say, it's been exhausting and overwhelming.  

       I have found myself wondering how we usually get everything done when I am working full time. I suppose everything would be spread out more. We wouldn't be as rushed in terms of the loan or emptying and selling the car, or getting all of us through our doctors appointments, for example.  But in a weird way I'm looking forward to the trip just so things can slow down.  

      Still, add to this that I am an anxious traveler.  My mind fills with the possible problems: what if a flight is delayed so we can't catch the connection?  What if there's an accident and we are unable to get where we need to be for each part of the trip?

    Once again, I'm being pushed to look at and stay with what really matters. Time with the kids matters. Space to just be matters. Being in the garden with the plants matters. Mostly, just being in the moment matters. If problems happen during our travels (and no doubt they will: nothing ever goes completely as planned), then we will have an adventure. We will figure it out and no doubt learn some things. If we end up in Europe without something we need, we will probably be able to buy it there, or if not, we will learn to live for a time without it. We will be on a journey.  And in the meantime, I need to just breathe deeply and be present with my beautiful young adult children before we leave. 

And just because...

    

Week Four

     As per the detailed outline I put into the sabbatical grant application, I took Eldest and Youngest on a longer garden tour of CA this last week, most of it in Southern California.

    We visited Santa Barbara Botanical Garden, Descanso Gardens in LA, Huntington gardens, library and art museums, California Botanical Gardens, Fullerton Arboretum, San Diego Botanical Gardens, Balboa Park with all of its gardens, the San Diego Zoo (which in itself is also a botanical garden), and finally drove to Monterey from San Diego and went to the aquarium.  I loved all of them, each in its own way.  Huntington was amazing and expansive, I valued the native CA plants in the botanical gardens, the Fullerton arboretum with its beautiful trees was a place of true serenity and peace, and the zoo was such an incredible place that we ended up spending 9 hours there!  Still, I think Descanso was all of our favorite.  Ironically, it was the only garden we hadn't planned ahead of time to visit.  It came up as I was scrolling through local gardens when we were in LA and decided to try it out.  It was amazing.  It started off with a gift as well.  Eldest was wearing their Mount Holyoke sweatshirt, and the woman who was selling tickets for entry saw it.  She said she, too, was a Mount Holyoke alum, and she gave us free entry just because that's the kind of community the alum of Mount Holyoke share.  

    Many gifts came from this time including a lot of laughter, silliness and singing with the two of my adult children, unexpected kindnesses from strangers, and opportunities for good conversation and food as well.  We were listening to a book on tape as we drove about octopuses (we learned "octopi" is not the correct plural) that was moving as well as educational. Of course the best part of the trip was the time with my kids.  And the secondary gift was the incredible beauty of all the gardens. I ended up walking Balboa park gardens and Fullerton arboretum by myself: A and J were just too worn out.  But there were gifts in that as well.  I love trees, especially redwood trees and to have some quiet time by myself provided unexpected quiet alone time.  I connected with some birds and other animals as well who seemed as interested in me as I was in them. I have more to say, but frankly, I'm a bit worn out.  I hope to have more opportunity to write over the next couple days, though I will also be packing for 6 weeks in Europe.  

    Unfortunately, I'm still having trouble with my photos, and ended up spending over 8 hours trying to get my photos from my phone to my computer.  Since the memory space in my phone demands I move the photos off the phone so I have room to take more, it was a discouraging experience.  The videos I took at the zoo, in particular, appear to be completely lost: as long as I keep them on my phone, I can see them, but I can't move them with any success. Still, that's definitely a problem of privilege.  David and I leave Saturday for Europe and I'm considering that maybe the whole photo problem is an invitation to put down the phone and actually just BE on the trip.  I can let David be the photographer, and then Middle when I walk part of the Camino with him.  I will try, none the less, to include a few here.  Blessings on your week!