BRIDGES Part One

BRIDGES
FROM THE GOLDEN GATE TO THE SEVEN MILE
Photo By Alan Schein NYC

After flying on a “red eye” flight from California to Florida and arriving in Fort Lauderdale at 7:30 in the morning, it’s no surprise that my mind was bleary, weary and wrestling with those nasty little critters of post travel melancholy that seemed to be dancing the jig all over my exhausted brain, body and emotions.

I am compelled to interject a testimonial here. We flew on JetBlue, in the midst of their unfortunate debacle in New York. Our flight from California to Florida was non-stop and direct. It was superb. They treated everyone on board as though they were traveling in first class! The leg room was extraordinary (and this is coming from very tall Museologists). Each traveler had her/his very own Direct TV with a screensaver that read, “Without you, we’d just be flying a bunch of TV’s around the country.” and headphones at NO EXTRA CHARGE. The snacks were high end. The beverages endless. Warm blankets and soft pillows PLUS complimentary Bliss Spa pouches called “buhbye, red-eye…hello, shut-eye” which included a blackout eye mask, ear plugs, breath freshening lip balm, mints and maximum lemon-sage moisture cream for a “smooth landing”. Got to love an airline that serves comfort and has a sense of humor! No, I don’t work for JetBlue. But, from now on, I will fly them as often as possible!

It was a beautiful fresh morning in South Florida. The kind of day you want to put the lid down on your dream car and turn the stereo to a favorite soothing tune as you motor along the Turnpike; knowing that soon you will leave the mainland portion of Florida and cross the first bridge that connects a series of small coral islands known as “The Keys”. We will travel about 126 miles to our destination…the Southernmost Point in the continental United States…Key West.

This ride is the perfect metaphor for transition as most of these miles can only be driven at about 45-50 miles per hour as you cross over bridge after bridge; a veritable snail’s pace compared to the exotic car, bumper-to-bumper, road-rage ravaged Highway 101 leading in and out of San Francisco. Our hearts fill with compassion for these tenacious warrior commuters of North Marin and beyond. We used to travel among them. My fellow Muse chuckles at the thought saying, “I miss the old days…I’m happily ashamed to admit that I was a road rage carrier!” But we were among the small percentage of lucky ones; with a total daily commute time of just over two hours. Some courageous souls commute more than four hours every day. That’s twenty hours a week. 80 hours a month. 960 hours annually! 5.714 weeks of their life every year!!

As we rhythmically bump along the perfectly timed seams of the two lane road leading South from Homestead, we begin to feel the frenetic pace of the mesmerizing Bay Area slowly seep away and adjust to the soothing lullaby of approaching tropical warmth, azure sky and the milky turquoise water gently lapping against new gigantic cast-in-place concrete structural supports being installed for a new bridge just north of the funky and fun resort called Gilbert’s.

The Overseas Highway is in the process of morphing into a safer (hopefully) expanse of modern asphalt. Expect construction delays. They are inevitable. Currently, 42 bridges (18.8 miles worth) connect more than 100 small islands over the spectacular, fickle and sometimes challenging conditions of the Atlantic Ocean and Gulf of Mexico. That’s 15% of the total travel time!


Bridges are the arteries that keep places alive. They connect our transitions. Gene Roddenberry understood the power of Bridges…his Starship Enterprise “transporter” was the bridge of our future; connecting all points in our universe as well as our perception of time itself. Today we use steel, concrete, massively complex cables and machinery to build our bridges. Tomorrow we will use energy. These are among the myriad of thoughts that float through this muse mind as we approach the historic Seven Mile Bridge just south of Marathon at Mile Marker 53.

With the first stirrings of “There’s No Place Like Home” euphoria; I realize I’ve just taken in a massively deep breath and LET IT GO. Purposefully, I blow it out my pucker-lipped mouth in order to direct the hot air of tension and tiredness into the vast expanse that spans the entire aquamarine horizon before me. LET IT GO. JUST LET IT GO. It feels bone-deep good to almost be home.

SAN FRANCISCO...A CITY OF MUSES

For the next several days, Museologies will be watching "...the lights go down in the City and the sun shine on the Bay…” as we drive across the magnificent Golden Gate Bridge and pass through the Waldo Tunnel to head north on Highway 101. It’s been too long since we turned off at the historic Buckeye Restaurant, drove through Tam Junction… past the Dipsea Café (where George Lucas might be having breakfast)…taking the inevitable left hand turn which innocently will lead us to the ultimate auto roller coaster ride of a lifetime. We’ll ramble along picturesque Highway 1 which locals fondly refer to as "going over the hill”. This wild, hair-pin turn, narrow two-lane road along sheer cliffs that plunge into the Pacific Ocean below will leave you breathless and often car sick…but you are always…always exhilarated!

When we approach the “Y” where you choose between going up Mt. Tamalpais to the right or down to the left; we will choose down because of the overwhelming nostalgia. Past the ancient redwoods…by the long row of marvelous mailboxes across from Muir Beach’s enchanting Pelican Inn…along the heather-covered ridge of Slide Ranch…above racy Red Rock Beach and the hidden hot springs (clothing optional) and into the inimitable village of Stinson.

We might stop at Live Water Surf Shop just for old time’s sake and buy a thick warm sweat shirt. Then, we’ll cross the street to browse in the famous Stinson Beach Books before we walk down past The Grill and the infamous Sand Dollar Bar…a place we will return for a restorative toddy after being chilled to the bone by the beach’s winter breath.

To walk along the extraordinary crescent moon strand of Stinson Beach is incredibly spiritual…down to the huge rocks at the far left end…where time literally stands still. This is an intimate maze of rock, sand, water, sky and cliff that has remained unchanged for hundreds and hundreds of years. The ashes of many great Muses illuminate the air and dance along the waves, particularly on a moonlit night.

As our footprints sink into the soft wet Stinson sand; we will look out at the vast Pacific horizon line where pale blue sky meets deep indigo water and know that Einstein was right…Time is an illusion.

But it will be the unforgettable roar and hypnotic rhythm of the crashing waves against these sacred rocks that will bring misty eyes of wonder. There is no other place quite like this natural jewel in Mother Nature’s crown. Hidden among the gigantic rocks you will understand why the Muses have eternally chosen to laugh and play as they build their monumental sandcastles to honour our days, our inspirations and our funny ‘ole mortal lives.

Afterwards, we’ll meet you at the Sand Dollar!

PS…If you plan this adventure, allow a little over an hour from downtown San Francisco to Stinson Beach. Dress in layers and wear comfy shoes. Bring sunglasses and sun block (even if it’s foggy). Drive leisurely and soak it all in. If you have a propensity for motion sickness, take a non-drowsy tab. It will make all the difference!

LIFE IS A FEAST!

Remember when you were a child of the Universe? You still are!

For his inaugural speech, Nelson Mandela quoted from Marianne Williamson's book A Return To Love to make this point:

"We ask ourselves

Who Am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented and fabulous?

Actually, who are you not to be?

You are a child of the Universe

Your playing small doesn't serve the world.

There is nothing enlightened about shrinking

So that other people will not feel insecure around you.

We were born to make manifest the glory of the Universe that is within us.

It is not just in some of us, it is in everyone.

And as we let our own light shine,

We unconsciously give people permission to do the same.

As we are liberated from our own fear,

Our presence automatically liberates others..."

Eat your blueberries today and shine!

TOAST TO A LADDIE

Last night in San Rafael California, our very own Golf Muse (a handsome BraveHeart Scot Laddie who looks “killer” in his kilt) hosted a group of illustrious revelers gathered to honour and celebrate Scotland’s National Poet Robert Burns. Around the world, the event is respectfully and lovingly referred to as Rabbie Burns Night. Celebrated on a day in close proximity to Rabbie’s birthday, 25 January 1759; there are a few essential ingredients that make for a successful celebration: Scotch whiskey (may we recommend Glen Morangie), haggis (you don’t want to know), tatties (mashed potatoes), mashed neeps (rutabagas or turnips), Tipsy Laird (sherry trifle) Rabbie’s romantic poetry and uisge beatha (the “water of life”…more Scotch Whiskey!).

Before you click off (because you’ve never heard of Robert Burns) think of the New Year’s Eve song Auld Lang Syne…these are Rabbie’s words! YOU DO KNOW HIM and at least once a year his unforgettable poetry tugs at the old nostalgic heart strings. Remember the year you were cruising and celebrating New Year’s Eve on the QE2 OR the time you celebrated in front of Key West’s 801 Bourbon Club as you watched the delightful Sushi ( the infamous female impersonator) drop from the tropical sky on her giant glittering red ruby shoe. Or, how about those evenings you put on your jammies, nuked a huge bowl of popcorn, got comfy and watched the classic movie IT’S A WONDERFUL LIFE. The "Force" of Rabbie’s Auld Lang Syne was with you. For you “Wordies” out there, AULD LANG SYNE literally means “OLD LONG SINCE” – but a more modern translation embraces the ideas of “long ago”, “in olden day”, “days of long ago” or even “once upon a time”.

Rabbie packed a lot of living during his 37 years. Born to a farming family that struggled with poverty, his childhood was one of hardship and severe manual labor which left him with a weakened constitution and slight stoop. He had almost no formal schooling but his father revered education and taught his many children reading, writing, geography, history and math. At the age of 24 Rabbie began to write poetry and it was reputed that he had a fondness for attractive women of culture. He was a true romantic and was recognized in the front ranks of lyric poets. Robert Burns believed in the power of the MUSE. He once said of his creative process:

“My way is: I consider the poetic Sentiment…then chuse my theme; begin one Stanza; when that is composed, which is generally the most difficult part of the business, I walk out, sit down now and then look out for objects in Nature around me that are in unison or harmony with the cogitations of my fancy and workings of my bosom; humming every now and then the air with the verses I have framed. When I feel my Muse beginning to jade, I retire to the solitary fireside of my study, and there commit my effusions to paper; swinging, at intervals, on the hind-legs of my elbow chair, by way of calling forth my own critical strictures, as my pen goes.”

February is about friendship and love. Romance and Poetry. Not just with a significant other but, more importantly, with YOURSELF and your personal muses. Imagination, Creativity and Inspiration may be the greatest expressions of your Love and Passion. Is this what Rabbie was thinking about when he wrote, “Oh, My Love is Like A Red, Red Rose”? Museologies likes the idea! If you are interested in reading this swashbuckling ode to Rabbie’s Muse, visit http://www.mysticalquill.blogspot.com/ (see Links To Extraordinary Muses).

Late last night (or was it the wee hours of the morning?) in San Rafael California there was a glowing group of impressive men and women from all walks of life who shared a vote of thanks, stood side by side, joined hands and sang full-out “ Auld Lang Syne”. Rabbie Burns and his Muses are smiling (after a couple of aspirin of course).

YOUR HEART DESERVES HAPPY GROUND HOG MEDICINE

YOUR HEART DESERVES HAPPY GROUND HOG MEDICINE
PHOTO ELEMENT BY MARK NEWMAN & ASSOCIATES/IMAGE STATE AVANTI PRESS

As a student of Native American Animal Medicine, I thought it might be fun to share the magic of Ground Hog Medicine as described in the incredible book MEDICINE CARDS by Jamie Sams and David Carson. The Native American use of the term "medicine" is very different from what the Western Mind thinks of as "medicine". Jamie Sams and David Carson explain,

"The Medicine...is anything that improves one's connection to the Great Mystery and to all life. This would include the healing of body, mind, and of spirit. This medicine is also anything that brings personal power, strength, and understanding. It is the constant living of life in a way that brings healing to the Earth creatures. Native American medicine is an all-encompassing "way of life", for it involves walking on the Earth Mother in perfect harmony with the Universe."

The Ground Hog represents the concept of RETREAT. It teaches that inspiration and strength are found by RETREATING into "the stillness that quiets the mind."

"...The strength of this medicine is also knowing when and how to replenish your life force. Ground Hog medicine people tend to seek self-dreams and visions without the intrusions of worldly chaos. When they reenter the world, they are profound and powerful anchors of calm resolve amid life's storms."

Today we honour the Ground Hog. Tune into your body's fuel gauge. Is it running low? If so, consider a mini-RETREAT. Close your eyes and breath slowly and deeply for only three minutes. Or, consider an afternoon or evening away from your regular activities. "...Have you put your basic needs at the bottom of the "TO DO" List? Burning the candle at both ends may weaken the punch you can normally pack when tackling the tasks at hand. Take a much needed break before you crash and burn. Ground Hog teaches you that, in order to access gifts of inspiration and renewal, you must be at peace with yourself and rested enough to recognize the blessings being offered."

HAPPY GROUND HOG DAY!

PS: Eleven days until Valentine's Day.