Taking no prisoners. Including herself.

Returning home from Turkey has been a mild culture shock I still don’t think I’m over; whereas before I did yoga twice a day, ate fresh vegetarian meals, and my most difficult decision consisted of whether to read in the hammock or swim in the Mediterranean — I have come home to an avalanche of work, raging forest fires, and my cat bleeding from the head*[1]

A friend called.

“I wanted to say welcome back! Got a look at your Turkey pictures. The smile on your face said you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else in the world.”

It’s true, I replied, Turkey is a wonderful place.

* * *

I was once told that the point at which you know your vacation is a success is when you actually begin to believe you want to live there.

I know! I will enroll in Un. of Istanbul, stay in friend’s Fetitye apartment through the winter, and then clean pools at a resort in exchange for room and feta salad! Genius!

But as the wheels of your SFO-bound 747 touch down upon California soil, you know there is Reality to attend to.

* * *

The days are slipping away like autumnal leaves. I work instead of write. I hyperventilate instead of meditate. I…am beginning to feel what my life was like before leaving San Francisco — I’m effin’ stressed.

The difference is, when I look outside my window, nothing but redwood trees look back. In the city there is distinct difficulty in finding a space of breath; here in Sonoma County, I am the only unnatural thing — peace and calm surrounding me — and it’s easier for me to realize that the feeling that everything is “so important to get done… and NOW” is all in my head.

The cows certainly don’t see what all the fuss is about.

* * *

I took a lunchtime walk around my neighborhood to get some air one particulary busy day. I was taking on a project that typically take two weeks… and doing it in two days.

The voluptuous green hills have turned golden, spring buds have morphed into taught beginnings of fruit, and my neighbors baby lamp has doubled in size.

Thinking of how stressed I had been only 30 minutes before, I laughed, grateful for how detached from the city and my ‘old life’ I have become. This is when my friend called to welcome me back.

Holding the phone in one hand and feeding a neighbor’s horse stalks of grass with the other, I knew the smile on my face said I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else in the world.

*[1] Don’t worry. 7 stitches and $327 later, Patches is in full recovery. Damn California foxtails.

§492 · June 30, 2008 · Sonoma County Splendor · · [Print]

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