Not Just a Story

Pines to Palms HwySaturday morning I drove to Anza and rented a U-Hall truck.  From Anza, I navigated down the steep grade of the Pines to Palms highway into Palm Desert. This is the road made famous in the opening car chase scene of the movie It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World, a 1973 epic American comedy film.  The temperature hovering around 100 degrees, I was on my way to meet my friend, Karen, who was driving over from L.A. to meet me.

Karen’s dad lives in Palm Desert and yesterday was Father’s Day.  He recently moved into an apartment and Karen and her sister have been involved in the daunting task of emptying the family home to ready it for sale.

The house had some furniture we can use at the retreat so I headed down the grade to spend time with Karen, bring back some furniture and take her dad, Don, out for Father’s Day brunch.

I arrived ahead of Karen, walked around to the back patio and sat in the shade to wait.  As I rested in the heat, perspiration flowed like a small stream down my back.  I contemplated the significance of what I was doing here.  I thought about lives, ever-changing and ever changed by events never envisioned. I thought about time marching forward, heedless of my plea to slow down and give me a chance to catch up.

Catch up to what?  What do I think is waiting for me “out there” if I can only…

It is always sweet to be with Karen.  She has been my friend since we were roommates at our Advanced CranioSacral Training almost fifteen years ago.  Through the years, events have brought us closer together, and I think of her like a sister…a woman with whom I resonate deeply and share mutual respect and caring love.  We have common beliefs and ours is an honest, stress-free relationship that I value greatly.  We laugh a lot when we are together.

As we worked to load furniture into the truck, I marveled at the effortlessness of the job.  We synchronized easily and what might have been a difficult task flowed.  With the truck loaded, we showered, dressed and picked up Don to take him to brunch.  I teased with him that he could be my “daddy” since my own dear dad is far away, and he enjoyed being escort to his two “girls.”

Mid-afternoon, with warm hugs and kisses and words of heartfelt appreciation, we parted ways.   Karen dropped her dad off at his new home and headed for L.A. and I headed into the desert with my truck full of precious belongings.

These pieces of furniture and other belongings carry the energy of Karen’s family.  They are now home with me and they will integrate into our retreat, finding their perfect resting spots within the labyrinth of rooms, tipis and yurts.  In the coming years they will serve as comfortable places for many souls to rest, connect, and to engage with others.

Everything is living energy.  Everything carries a story.  These truths are not lost on me today.

Palm Desert

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