Sebasto-Cruz

I had been making my way down Highway 1 toward Monterey.  After watching a beautiful dark pink sunset on the coast I stopped to get a snack.  I was in the northern end of Santa Cruz.  I waited as some other people ordered in front of me.  We chatted about how nice the weather had been that day, etc.  Eventually one of them asked me where I was from since I mentioned being on a mini-road trip.
"I'm from the northbay - Sonoma County," I replied.
"Oh, I love that area," a woman responded.  "Especially Sebastopol.  I had a cousin that lived there and I visited her a few times."
Her friend shared a story about attending a massage workshop in Sebastopol.  The instructor sent them out one morning to find some students to practice on.  She ended up scaring quite a few people off, according to her, by sauntering up to them and offering free massage.  "I guess I didn't really explain I was taking a class.  They just thought I was walking around downtown trying to massage people."
"Well, you were in Sebastopol," someone remarked.  "I'm sure it wasn't that unusual.  It's not like you were in Vallejo.  Then that would have been strange."
A couple standing behind them, who looked like they could have walked out of the crystal shop that was on Main Street in Sebastopol for many years, chimed in.  They lived near Calistoga at one point but loved visiting Sebastopol.  "The best Thanksgiving dinner I ever had was in Sebastopol," the man said.  "Although it was actually vegetarian.  And the pretend-turkey didn't cook all the way through.  And we had more Indian food than American food - but what a great feast."
His partner, wearing a large garnet pendant that matched his, nodded in agreement.  "Lots of curried vegetables and naan," she remembered.  "And the pumpkin pies did not turn out but there was baklava to die for." 
As I listened to their stories it occurred to me, I'm not sure how but I have become a magnet for all things Sebastopol. 
Even in Santa Cruz.


Most surreal moment:
Standing in front of Milk and Honey talking to two Mormon missionaries.  "So," one of them asks, pointing to a sign, "tell me more about the Goddess Crafts Fair.  Does that happen every weekend in Sebastopol?"
("No," I respond, but thinking to myself, if there was a town that hosted such a fair every weekend, it would be this one.) 


Favorite line of the week:
One of two people (strangers to each other) hugging:  "No, we have to reposition this way to hug so our hearts are touching."

Plaza (self-)consciousness

It was a nice warm afternoon and I was having trouble heading elsewhere to work on a project that required being inside.  I was sitting in the plaza enjoying the nice breeze and wondering how long I could put off heading where I was supposed to be.  It was relatively quiet in the plaza, and I only half-noticed a man juggling and a few kids running around.  One of the girls came over closer to me and I saw that she was watching the juggler.  He moved closer to us and asked how it was going and tossed her a ball.  She didn't quite know what to do with it so she tossed it back.
"Do you want to try to juggle?" he asked her.  She shook her head but did look a bit intrigued.
He turned and asked me the same question.  "I don't think so," I responded.  "I'm not very good at that type of thing."
"I just finished a class on conscious juggling," he told me.  "Have you heard of conscious juggling?"
"No.  I have heard of Zen hula-hooping."
Without missing a beat, he ended up telling me about this class.  As you try and juggle you pay attention to the things that come up for you.  Like feeling  uncomfortable or fearful or remembering being criticized as a kid for not doing something right.  "It tells you a lot about yourself."
The girl had come closer and was eyeing the four balls he kept quite adeptly in the air.
"Do you want to try?" he asked me.
"No, I think I would feel too self-conscious."   I realized my answer pretty much proved his point regarding conscious juggling.  But I still was not about to get up off the bench and give it a try.
"It can be very enlightening.  You can see things about yourself and work through them."  Yeah, I still wasn't going for it.
He and the girl tossed some balls back and forth for a few minutes.  A woman with a younger boy came over and called to her.  "It's time to go.  We are going to be late for goddess hour."
"What is goddess hour exactly?" I asked her mother.
"A woman who teaches dance has it once a week.  Stories about the goddess, singing, stretching."
The girl threw back her last ball.  "Who is your favorite goddess?" I asked.  Having worked at Milk and Honey, there were quite a few goddesses I was familiar with.
But she just stared at me.  I glanced at the juggler and we smiled. "Okay, then.  Well, have a nice time."
She ran off.  The juggler asked me where one could get good espresso in Sebastopol, so I was letting him know his options.  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the girl and her mother stop.  Turning back to me the girl yelled, "Kwan yin!  It's Kwan yin!" 
I smiled and gave her a thumbs up.
"Goddess hour," the juggler chortled.  "Only in Sebastopol."
This coming from Conscious Juggling Guy.


Favorite line of the week:
"How are things going?"
"Well, I'm not feeling very spiritually aligned this morning."

Chai and chocolate mousse

I was unobtrusively sitting in the corner at the Sebastopol Starbucks with my soy chai and cell phone.  My friend had been stuck in 101 traffic and texted telling me she was hopefully able to get off at the next exit.  Two soccer moms were next to me complaining about a teacher’s aide.  There was no indication I was even in Sebastopol.  Or so one would think. 

As the moms got up and left a bigger group of people sat down, pulling out some containers of lentil salad, quinoa something-or-other, steamed veggies and chocolate mousse.  I only know this because they announced each one as it came out of a big bag with an Om sign on it.

Apparently they were here visiting from Marin and other parts of the bay area.  As it turned out, I learned a few minutes later after two of them left the table, three of the women were involved with the same man.  And there was a primary partner – I wasn’t sure who it was – and the non-primary partners were not happy with some dynamics in the situation.  I sat at a small corner table, they had actually boxed me in.  So there was no way to avoid hearing the conversation which they weren’t particularly having quietly.  I didn’t know if they just tended to talk loudly about personal matters, or if they were just oblivious to the fact I was there.

The man at the epi-center of this clan was Daniel, and apparently he had the annoying habit of comparing his different women to his primary partner.  I was curious to know which of the three was the “primary partner” when I finally realized there was a fourth woman.  The primary partner actually wasn’t present.   Everyone was in Sebastopol for a 25^th wedding anniversary party (in which I found a little irony given the topic of conversation) - minus his primary partner, and they were trying to decide how to tell Daniel to stop comparing them to her without causing drama. 

There is a reality show for polygamous wives.  But seriously, there hasn’t been one for open relationships?  Because I think it would be very interesting to follow this little tribe around.  (Although it would probably be more of an HBO show.)  Apparently each of them individually had talked to Daniel about the comparisons but they had not stopped.  Maybe they had to confront him as a group.  A man and a woman walked up and sat down with their drinks and the group fell silent.  I realized, this must be Daniel.  Everybody was suddenly overly-interested in the containers of food.  Just then my friend walked in and motioned for me to come stand in line with her.  I just wanted to stay in my seat and pretend to text, but two of the women turned around and looked at me.  “Oh, we’re sorry,” one of them said.  “I didn’t see you there.”  Which would explain why she backed her chair practically up to my feet.

“No problem,” I said, standing up.  Several of them moved their chairs and one of them offered me some chocolate mousse.  “No thanks,” I said, although it did look quite good.  (And I noticed Daniel appeared rather taken with my friend, who is quite attractive.  He kept staring at her.) 

As we were standing in line I told my friend the topic of conversation.  A bit intrigued, she suggested, "We should go back and sit next to them!"  But there was no one else inside Starbucks at the moment, so there was no way to casually sit down right by them.  Unless, it occurred to my friend, we could ask for some of that chocolate mousse. 

Favorite line of the week:

“No, really - that’s his dog’s name.  His dog is named Buddha.”

A quaint little town

One Saturday afternoon I was heading into Whole Foods when a nice family from India came up to me and asked if I lived in Sebastopol.  They were traveling in the U.S. for several weeks and were in northern California for a few days. 
"We read that Sebastopol is a quaint little town with cafes and shops.  Could you tell us how to find the cafes?" the father asked.  Personally, I would use the word quirky rather than quaint, but I don't write travel books.
I have an inner tour guide and which easily emerges around foreigners.  Especially foreigners with lovely accents.  I told them I would be glad to show them around for a few minutes if that would be helpful.   They were appreciative and the few minutes turned into two hours.  Deciding where to head, we talked for a moment in front of Whole Foods while a woman was hula-hooping.  She was also giving her card to someone and she teaches Zen hula-hooping sessions.  (If you do not know what Zen hula-hooping is, I am right there with you.)
There was the father and his daughter and I believe his sister and her husband in the group.  They were pleasant people and I learned about the region of India they were all from.  After the downtown jaunt we ended up at a teahouse.  We were waiting in line behind three young hipsters, who were all about the love.  I say this because I don't know what exactly they were talking about, but between the three of them, they echoed this about eight times in the three minutes we stood behind them.  Even when one of them handed the cashier a twenty dollar bill, it was "all about the love."  They turned around and looked at us so intently I thought we were all going to get embraced or be told it was all about the love.  But they ended up merely smiling and moving on.
As we were drinking tea Jagad mentioned someone told them to get massages while they were in Sebastopol.  "Could you recommend any good massage therapists here?  We would rather not go to a tourist spa center."
Sebastopol has an abundance of massage therapists.  If you walk down the street and pass four people, there is a good chance one of them is a masseuse.  (And another one is probably an MFT.)  I informed him there were several names I could give him.  The daughter - who I think probably would have rather been in L.A., or at least San Francisco - piped up, asking where they could go get some normal food.
To clarify, I asked her what she meant by 'normal' food. "Something without sprouts."
We walked back over to Whole Foods, and the woman was still hula-hooping although she had recruited a partner.  We said good-bye and I pointed them in the direction of a restaurant where they could find a 'normal' lunch.  Jagad said, "I like Sebastopol.  It is a town that appears to be very in touch with it's feminine side."
I nodded.  That being the understatement of the century.
"Very pleasant people," he noted.  We shook hands.  "And I will remember," he added with an amused look on his face, "that it is all about the love."


Favorite line of the week:
"It takes me twice as long to get through the Whole Foods in Sebastopol because of all the hugging."







 

Halloween with a Sebastopol twist

I was wandering around the plaza on Saturday when I came upon a group of kids dressed up for Halloween, on their way home from an event where they had obtained plenty of candy for the coming weeks.  A young boy came alongside me.
"I like your snake costume," I mentioned.  He looked up at me and then his older sister (I presume) chimed in.
"He is a serpent."
"Oh.  Pardon me.  I like your serpent costume."
She stopped to talk to me.  "Our dad was born the year of the serpent."
One minute conversation with someone under the age of twelve, and we were already talking about Chinese astrology.  I, too, was born the year of the snake.  So fortunately I was able to converse with this young girl who was either a fairy princess or a unicorn.  I couldn't quite tell.  There appeared to be elements of both.
I asked what her costume was, and she said it was a question.  Would she tell me what the question was?
"What do you get when you cross a fairy and a unicorn?"
Well, yes.  That is exactly what she appeared to be.
A mermaid, a ladybug and a boy in a cardboard box came over to us.  The boy in the box also had some plastic bottles hanging off of him.  He held up a sign.  "Recycling in action."  You had to love it - not just recycling, recycling in action.  I think it was my favorite costume so far this year.
Some other young children came up to me, but when they discovered I didn't have any candy they quickly wandered off.  There were some cute costumes, but one boy about seven years old was dressed entirely in bluish-purple, from head to toe.  I couldn't fathom what he was.
I asked if he was a blueberry popsicle.  He said no.  Was he a blueberry pop-tart?  He was not.  Finally another kid told him to lie on the ground.  Which he did, perfectly still and hands at his side.  Several of them were looking at me.  I still did not have the faintest idea.  "A blueberry popsicle that fell on the ground?"
Several of them giggled.  "Just tell her," one of them said.
He was a yoga mat.  I mean seriously, how can you top that?

Guest contributor:
My friend Jess was shopping at Whole Foods.  She heard one employee say to another: "Which goddess are you representing today?"
The reply:  "I'm Oya, one of the Orishas."  And proceeded to talk about her daily divinity choice.


Favorite line of the week:
"Well, keep me posted as to what the pendulum is saying."

Lazy Sunday afternoons

I have an early work schedule five days a week and consequently I am usually wiped out on Friday night.  And recuperating on Saturday.  Sunday is often the only day of the week I am relaxed.  We have been having beautiful autumnal weather this year and I set out to do some errands however it just wasn't happening.  It was too nice a day and I was not in a productive mode.  But at the minimum I had to grocery shop and I pulled into the parking lot of Whole Foods.  Between two Priuses.  I didn't notice this until I was getting something out of my trunk and a woman walked up behind me.  "So glad to see a car other than a Prius.  I thought maybe that was a prerequisite for driving here."

I wandered around the store for a bit but was jarred out of my haze when a group of children semi-circled me as I was filling my water bottles.  They were singing something to the tune of "Everybody Dance Now."  I thought it was "Everybody clap now..."  But as they repeated it I realized they were singing "Everybody chant now!"  I looked up and down the aisle to see a mom or dad, curious as to the origin of this young mob.  But no adults were around.  It was just a group of Lost Boys and Girls swarming around me.  After staring at me for a minute they moved on to the frozen section, their enthusiasm escalating as they peered into the coconut ice cream section.  Still exclaiming, "Everybody chant now!"

For some reason half of Sebastopol was in Whole Foods at this time and I ended up having to wait in a slow line.  The couple in front of me was discussing Kombucha.  For nearly ten minutes.  This is not an exaggeration.  Not the process or how it is made - just simply the drink itself.  Flavors, brands, memories.   I have never heard anyone talk so long about Kombucha.  (Actually, I'm not sure I've ever heard anyone talk so long about a beverage.)  On my way out I ran into a friend and because it was such a lovely day we sat outside soaking up the late afternoon sun.  The most memorable part of our conversation came from him, when I was telling him about a matchmaking possibility.  He replied jokingly, "You would have to find out what her spirit animal is."

Guest contributor: 
My friend Gina was visiting from out-of-state, sitting in the plaza with her friend.  They were on the steps of the corner of the gazebo that faces the movie theater, right by a tree with really thick foliage.  They had been sitting there for about 20 minutes, eating dinner and talking, when suddenly a long-haired hippie kid fell out of the tree, got up and just walked away like nothing had happened.  They had no idea he was even there as the leaves in the tree were so thick.  Her friend noted, without skipping a beat, "That's where all the kids of Sebastopol come from!"


Favorite line of the week:
"I'm an accountant.  I really don't know what chakras are."

On any given weekend...

On a Thursday my friend and I were drinking fresh squeezed honey-sweetened lemonade (which was extremely good) after doing volunteer work for her daughter's club.  Kim had a friend visiting from out of state, although she (Melissa) had lived in northern California when she went to college.  And she missed it.  A lot.  She was determined to get as much out of her two week stay in west county as possible.
Melissa had been at a class on natural detoxing.  She was going to meet us any minute.  "She is a bit stressed out today," Kim informed me.  I asked why and she replied, "Oh, you'll see."  She had a look on her face that indicated this might be something for your blog.
I had met Melissa twice before but was surprised to see that she did in fact appear quite stressed when she walked up.  She sat down on the bench and crumpled into herself.  "I don't know what to do."
I glanced at Kim.  "She double-booked herself.  She signed up for two workshops this weekend."
This was not inconceivable.  Sebastopol has an abundance of workshops and retreats.  Massage/ chanting/toning/meditation/drumming/sound healing/ecstatic dancing which could be paired with yoga or tantra or creative writing or past life regression (any of which could be infused with a divine feminine theme).  When I first moved here I couldn't believe how many there were.  I signed up for several - a few were phenomenal experiences.  And a few were... well, the fliers were much better than the actual retreats.
Now Melissa had mistakenly spent quite a bit of money to attend two three-day workshops, unfortunately both occurring this weekend.   One was a restorative yoga retreat for women going through transition and the other she explained to me but I didn't understand.  (Something to do with divine essence.)  She didn't know what to do and had to decide because both of them started tomorrow.
"Well," Kim asked, speaking practically, "can you get a refund for either of them?"
She shook her head.  "I don't think so."  She showed us print-outs from websites for both activities.  "I thought one of them was next weekend," she said in her defense, sounding exasperated.
Did she know anyone taking either workshop?  No.
Which was in a prettier location?  One near the coast, the other in the redwoods.
Which would have better food?  Hard to say.  Both promised healthy vegetarian meals.
At the bottom of the yoga retreat I noticed something.  "Well, my choice would be this one.  A free massage is included if you attend the entire weekend."
Melissa looked closely at the paper.  "I did sign up for the whole weekend.  All right, yoga in the redwoods wins."


Favorite line of the week:
"You know that older crazy woman who walks around Sebastopol a lot?"
"Um, you will have to be more specific than that."