Seattle Girl On Cape Cod: Blizzard on the Beach

 
"Lighten up while you still can, don't even try to understand, just find a place to make your stand and take it easy."—Jackson Browne

Well, I kinda understand why people head South for the winter. Today we had blizzard-like weather on the beach. I thought about going for a walk with Scott out in it. He hasn't worked for two days due to the weather. Most of his jobs in his friend's contracting business are outside. 

So, we put on 4-5 layers this afternoon—3 pairs of pants/long underwear, two shirts and a sweater, ski pants/jackets, gloves, hat(s), and face masks in preparation for heading out into the cold. In the end, my eyes were the only things you could see. 

The roads had been salted, so the snow hadn't accumulated on the streets as we drove to Nauset Beach on the Atlantic Ocean. I thought, We'll just go for a little walk down the beach.

With the temperatures dipping down into the low teens and 30-40 mile gusts of wind, that walk didn't last long. We tried to drive up to Wellfleet to see the town in white, but it was seriously getting blizzard-like out there so we went home. 

Well, we signed up for this. We decided we wanted A Year on Cape Cod. Well, almost a year. We are here at least until June 19th, if not longer. 

But today...well today I was not prepared for a blizzard on the beach.

How many people would choose that as a vacation destination?

This isn't a vacation, though. This is our life. We are Cape Codders, for now.

Somehow the snow and wind, which forced us to be inside, made me realize just how isolated I am out here. When I'm out in nature, I feel so connected. When I can't get out in it and am home-bound, it's hard to feel connected. 

I have NOT been following the news lately and have not been surfing the internet much. I have enjoyed lots of meditation, rest, writing, teaching, etc. I've enjoyed tuning in. But I do miss friends and family.

Given our current weather conditions today, I thought, just for a few moments, maybe I'll run away to Florida and see my family and friends down there. It's 70 degrees in the daytime. 

Maybe I will or maybe I won't go?

Yes, sometimes life can feel cold, lonely, and isolating. But that's life!

'Blizzard on the Beach' is the perfect backdrop for that. It's as good a backdrop as any and the wildness of it has its own intrigue.

After all, life has its seasons and truthfully, I am a girl who appreciates seasons. I love long summers that seem to hold on until late September, fall (oh, my favorite!) when the leaves start to turn and everything, especially in New England, turns to fiery oranges, reds and yellows. I love the first snow and decorating for the season and getting in the holiday spirit. 

But there's this time, between mid-January to March that seems like it will never end. In Seattle, it's WET and dreary with occasional sun breaks. Here in Massachusetts, the cold bites right through you. But on the Cape, we've been lucky. The weather dips down, but doesn't stay down thanks to the ocean which warms everything up. And man, I've soooo appreciated the SUN out here. I'm not use to all this sun, being a Seattle-girl and all. I could very-well become a sun worshiper. I could chase that sun around the globe. I need that light and warmth. I need to feel it in my bones, even if it's bitter cold outside. 

I shouldn't complain. In Bristol, Vermont, where we went to see the leaves change in the fall, it's 5 degrees Here on Cape Cod at 5:48pm on a Friday night, it's 21 degrees. I'll take 21 degrees over 5 degrees any day.

Today, after attempting our walk on Nauset Beach, we drove over to Thumpertown Beach on the bay side, near our house.  Scott and I sat in his truck staring out into the snow and icy waves. Seagulls flew sideways and the wind shook the car and blew the dry snow in swirls around the parking lot. Jackson Browne came on the radio singing his hit song, Take it Easy.

Take it easy, take it easy

Don't let the sound of your own wheels 

Drive you crazy

Lighten up while you still can

Don't even try to understand

Just find a place to make your stand

And take it easy....

In the spirit of taking it easy, Scott turned to me and said, "Maybe this would be a great day to take the kayak out!"

He was joking, of course, but it brought in a flood of memories of warm endless summer days when that now icy bay was flat, calm warm and inviting. I was reminded of a day late in September when it was in the 70s still and we took the kayak out and swam around until sundown. 

Ah, life, I'm not even trying to understand anymore. I'm just going with what my gut tells me to do. I'm not following anyone. What's the point of that? 

Each day is a gift, really. The rest...well... 

In the end, what matters? That I followed what everyone else told me to do or that I lived well? 

Everyone has got to make there own decisions in this life. Where you go and what you do is up to you. I'm not here to convince you of anything, except maybe to tell you that all the the answers you need, you've already got. It's just a matter of tuning in. And perhaps....taking it easy.

Seattle Girl on Cape Cod: Living Like a Gypsy in These Unprecedented Times. We are RAMBLING ON!

Hello fellow EARTHLINGS,

How are you on this fine Friday night?

 I'm living like a gypsy in these unprecedented times. It wasn't planned. It's the cards I was dealt, but I couldn't have asked for a better hand.

 I think I may have made lemonade out of lemons. Somehow I'm living my dream life out here on Cape Cod, 

 I've always been a wanderer. I've lived an entire life of adventure.

"One day you will settle down." I've heard these words over and over again as each decade has passed, and yet I'm still on the road.

And I'm so grateful where I've landed.

I'm grateful that I have always been open to "whatever is next." Life is unpredictable with many twists and turns. I think it becomes a lot more enjoyable when I LET GO of the reigns or at least loosen up on them a bit and see where this life wants to take me. Of course I have my own intentions, dreams and ideas, but flexibility has been a key ingredient in navigating this thing called life. 

 I'm not sure I've always sought out the gypsy life, perhaps it's sought out me? I have always been open to it. When the pandemic hit, I was living at my parents' house in Sequim while they were snow birding down in Arizona. Eventually they returned in May, and I needed to find a place to go. I had been looking for a place to buy on the Olympic Peninsula and nothing panned out. I made offers on houses, but it wasn't in my cards.  I'm now 51, and I still don't have a house of my own. I could curse the universe for giving me a gypsy life, but I've decided to embrace it. 

Truth be told, one part of me longs for a cat and a home that is all my own, but a bigger part of me LOVES, absolutely loves the life I have.

You know what's funny, just as I'm loving this life in front of me, I have a strange feeling, a premonition if you will, that I WILL find that house and cat. I see myself sharing this lovely home with my boyfriend Scott. It always happens that way, doesn't it?  When you let go and open, what wants to come in usually does. 

 We thought we'd have to move out of this house at the end of November. The owner had winter renters and we couldn't stay past December 1st, so we thought.

But the house sold in September while we were in the house, so we were meant to be the last renters. All the winter renters on the books had to find something else.

Then the deal fell through. The house didn't sell.

 Now the owner was without renters for the winter, so we asked if we could stay through the spring. The owner agreed.

But it JUST SOLD AGAIN! The new owners close on April 20th. 

WE LOVE THIS HOUSE! 

But I don't know if we've loved it enough to buy it and it was out of our price range anyway. 

However, we had a very good run here. We got to stay in a HUGE house right by the beach from mid-September to April.

We've loved the short walk down the shell path to the glorious bay where we've watched dozens of sunsets, swum in the warm waters, collected shells and rocks, kayaked, star-gazed, moon-gazed, kissed.

 We've loved our home and cooking up a storm in the huge kitchen or sitting out on the back deck on a sunny day with appetizers and a cool drink or gazing at a meteor shower from the upper deck. 

We've enjoyed crock-pot soups on fall nights, and our first snow here and decorating for Christmas. We've loved movies in the sweet living room and eating fresh Wellfleet oysters from down the street. We've loved everything about this place. I've loved teaching my college classes upstairs in my office nook and Scott's loved his contracting job on the Lower Cape. He's loved coming home, showering, grabbing a bite to eat and then wandering down the path to the beach for sunset. It's so peaceful here. There's no light pollution. There are so many stars. Nature is wild. There are foxes, and coyotes, and wild turkeys and old graveyards with pilgrims from the Mayflower in them and fish shacks and beach knick knacks. 

And now it's time to go.

But we aren't ready to leave. 

WE AREN'T READY TO LEAVE! 

There, I said it. 

So I found another house 10 minutes away. It is equal in size and charm and close to a swimming pond and First Encounter Beach. It's got a deck and lots of rooms and it's near the bike path. I'm EXCITED about this new adventure down the street. Yes, new adventures can even happen DOWN THE STREET!!! I'll be sad to leave this house, but we stayed longer than we expected to.

And so this new chapter starts on April 1 and ends on June 19. Summer on the Cape is outrageous. Prices go up 10 times. We don't know where we will go come June. We don't know.

But we have from January 22-June 20th. We have at least 5 more months....at least! We've bought ourselves more time here. We want to feel the spring come around the bend. Watch the flowers bloom. Take a dip in the pond down the road from our new abode. Watch the sky get lighter and lighter as the days get longer and longer. We aren't done with this beach town yet.

A year on Cape Cod. 

Give me a year on Cape Cod so I can taste every season. I want to feel it all. This gypsy is hanging out for awhile here. The winds of change have only blown us down the street. The Nor-easter didn't even drive us out. 

We are here to stay for now. Yes, this gypsy is staying put....and loving EVERY SECOND of it.

Seattle Girl on Cape Cod: Nature Vs. Technology

"Look deep into nature and then you will understand everything better."—Albert Einstein

 Today the sun was high when I woke up at 8:30am. I ate a breakfast of oatmeal and coffee, threw a load of laundry in the washing machine, cleaned up a bit and got dressed. All I could think about was getting OUTSIDE. 

Getting outside here on Cape Cod is actually how I get INSIDE. It's my REAL communion with the world. 

Today the clouds were puffy and white. I wandered down the shell path to the beach steps. The water was calm and clear and the clouds were smattered across the sky as if Bob Ross himself had joyfully brushed them in to being like the 'happy little clouds' he is known for. 

As soon as I take note of Nature, it takes note of me. This has been my experience. I'm no longer separate from it. It's as if a door opens and I'm ushered in where millions of miracles are happening all at once, me being one of the miracles. 

Of course we've seen everything in Nature before. Nothing is new, right? 

We've seen stars, clouds, the sun, the moon, trees. We've felt soft sand between our toes, tasted the sweet nectar of Nature in an apple picked fresh from a tree. We've smelled roses and lilacs. We've heard the waves lap at the shore. We've experienced it all, so why is Nature still so mesmerizing? Why do we need it and want to be out in it?

I don't know about you, but I'm constantly informed by Nature. The more I open the door and step in, REALLY STEP IN, the more I come out with a truer sense of who I am. 

It's as if all of the molecules in my body begin to dance with the sounds, sights, tastes, touches and feelings of Nature. 

Nature is very much a sensual experience. In witnessing it, I witness myself. We aren't separate. I long for that connection more than anything. It calls to me each day.

If Nature is feeling, Technology is THINKING.

The imagery I see, hear, or feel through technology is NOT THE SAME as what I experience with nature. Nature is REAL and tangible. It's light and bright, even when it is dark. 

 What I experience through technology is cold and metallic. Lately, the imagery feels dark and fear-producing. Technology has been created by humans as a way to bring the world closer to us, but are we meant to see the world all at once on a man-made screen? Could, perhaps, what we are currently experiencing through technology be completely man-made?  Is this the future of how we will interact? Will we all be staring at boxes feeling emotions that are happening to us through the INTERNET? Will we lose our connection to MOTHER NATURE herself and use her only as a means to an end rather than a way of connecting deeply to everything. 

Well, these thoughts come as I sit down at my computer. After all, this is how most of us are communicating these days. I feel that cold sensation again. It creeps in and leaves me with a buzzing in my ears, a tightness in my jaw and head and a soreness in my neck and back. Just as soon as I sit down, I want to get up and put my feet in the sand out in the driveway of this beach house—anything to unplug from technology and touch back down deep into the Earth's soft folds.

In my dreams, Nature visits me. I feel I'm being guided by merely opening to her. She tells me to keep tuning in. She tells me to rise above the noise and chaos—that BEING is just as important as DOING, if not more so—particularly NOW.

And it's not only the clouds that stood out today. While the clouds were large and lofty and begged to be noticed, tiny shells and grains of golden sand at my feet held just as much magic in them. My shoes sank into those soft grains on the beach and with every step I took I imagined all the darkness that's been swirling around on the Earth through technology get washed out by the salty water of Cape Cod Bay. Mother Nature is so much wiser than anything humans have created or destroyed on on this planet. She has so much compassion and patience for us. She only asks us to take notice of her.

Seattle Girl on Cape Cod: Finding the Light

"Hope is being able to see that there is light despite all the darkness."—Desmund Tutu

Have you ever stared at patterns on your walls or ceiling, the patterns the sun makes early in the morning as the light streams through the windows? Or listened to the sound of the rain on the roof? Or heard and even felt the wind howling outside shaking the windows in their frames? That wind is so loud that you can feel the air in the bedroom charged with its energy.

All of this energy pulls me out from the warmth of my house, right out into the raw elements. 

 Down the the road from me, here in Eastham, is First Encounter Beach, where Pilgrims encountered Natives of this land for the first time. When I walk around this area, I feel that even though this land is very narrow in its width, its deep in its history and there's so much to learn from it. I'm not talking about learning from books, although I'm finding those to be interesting, but more from the land itself.

When Scott goes off to his carpentry job each morning after a breakfast together of coffee and oatmeal, I immediately pull on my rubber boots if it's low tide or I slip on my tennis shoes if the tide is a bit higher. If the tide is low, I can walk way out on the flats, much like walking on the moon, I imagine. I like the ripples in the sand that the waves leave behind. Today, I saw intricate lines in smooth sand that left vein-like features that appeared to be tree branches with long, deep roots. 

The patterns the water leaves in the sand are so alive. They are the earth's symbols and they are everywhere. The sand reminds me that whatever I see today, won't be there tomorrow. When the tides come in, all of it gets washed away. 

This morning, before getting out of bed,  I did the mistake of checking in on the news. And then checking Facebook. I saw comments by people who were so angry, unhappy, and divided. People were calling each other names and were fighting for 'their side,' saying the other was wrong or at fault. I feel so removed from it all out here. I'm not ignorant of what is going on. But what do I accomplish by fighting on the computer with others? Or insisting that I have all the answers. Truthfully, I'm less and less inclined to even check and see what's going on because there's so much going on RIGHT HERE and what goes on in the news feels a bit overwhelming, out of my control and even quite surreal. Sometimes I entertain the idea of disappearing for a year into the wild, away from the need to connect by phone or computer. I wonder what would happen after a year of being away with no news? Would people still be fighting about politics? Would there be more hatred in the world? Or would people find a way to really witness each other, really hear each other? Well, as the old adage goes, 'There's nothing new under the sun.' The sun has, in fact, seen it all. Maybe that's why it was such a strong teacher for me today.

Today everything was about LIGHT: sunlight through my windows, sun patterns on my wall, sun on the beach, sunlight on my face. A worker smoking a cigarette behind Cumberland Farms said, "Hey, What a beautiful day, isn't it? It feels like spring!" I love the directness of people here. There's no hesitation in them telling you how they feel. I couldn't have agreed more. It was gorgeous.

I must have walked 5 miles today around my hood. I walked from my home to Thurmpertown Beach and then down Thumpertown Road to Brackett Road where I visited the tiny North Eastham Post Office to check my post box for mail. Then I walked from Campground Road to Bay Road and back to the house.

 

Always, at the start of my walk, my mind rehashes thoughts about this or that. My mind goes from the past to the future in an instant. Eventually my mind settles comfortably in on now.

What's happening now?

Now I'm feeling my feet in my shoes. Now the blue sky against the green of the pines on Thumpertown Road is so vivid. Now a woman in a white jacket with a white-patterned hat with ear flaps just passed me on the other side of the road and waved. Now I see green grass poking through the pine-needled sides of the road. Is spring already on its way? Now a red cardinal just fluttered past me onto an oak branch. Now I must cross the street, are there any cars? Wow, it feels like a ghost town around here, I like it. Now the sun is beating on my face as I change direction. Now I close my eyes and feel the sun fill me up from head to toe. Now I move at a steady pace, my legs working without me needing to tell them to move. How miraculous this body is! How amazing this earth is!

These are my thoughts as I move into the now. And most of the time these thoughts fall away and all I feel are sensations. In those moments, I am connected to, not separate from, everything. 

And this is why I followed the light outside today. It's also why I've opened a window to feel the wind on my face or sat up on my upper balcony to watch a meteor shower. 

I won't stop doing this. In a world that currently feels out of control with humans in charge, the sun said, "Don't worry, we've seen this all before. Stay in the light."

Join me for a 5-week Intuitive Writing journey called Living a Life with Intention starting on January 21st. I'd love to see you there.