June 13, 2010

Yesterday I ran across a meeting of Harley people, I was wondering what was up since there was literally hundreds of them on the road, big, don’t mess with me looking guys, with massive noisy Harleys, lots with girlfriends on the back, I looked like i was from another planet with my ride. They did not wave either!

Finally I saw this field with hundreds of tents and bikes… some get together… wild.

I was going down the 101 and then decided to take a right on HWY 1. Holy curves, downhills, uphills, cold, hot, intense riding. I had to be so careful, I was also getting tired, my arms and shoulders, pulling, bending, turning, shifting the bike up and down these curves.

I landed at the bottom with a sigh of relief. even the bike felt tired! It was getting close to 7 or 8 PM and I looked for a place to camp. I pulled over this one place and the price was right, $3 for the night! no showers or anything other than an out house but that worked for me.

Linda, the host of the camp told me she had climbed mount Fuji on a 250cc motorcycle with her husband when they were stationed in Japan in the 70’s.

Then I met Robert, a man in his 60’s who was also in the army. He chatted about everything and nothing.

Most campers have big campers, big trucks, they are there with their families, no one looks affluent but everyone is welcoming.

After I pulled in there and set up my tent, took a walk to the ocean… The big waves were coming in, it looked powerful and unforgiving as well as beautiful and endless.

I watched the sun dip over the horizon, I can’t remember the last time I did that. The night came in and the cold mist with it. Everything got wet, almost as if it had rained. The birds, the frogs were singing, I settled in my tent and read for a while. I had to hide completely inside the mummy sleeping bag to stay warm.

In the Morning I went to the beach, the tide was going out, I did my yoga facing the ocean, sun salute and all, barefoot in the sand. Amazing really. I went by the water rushing in and got my feet wet. Somehow the ocean scares me some. It’s wild to think of all the living things, beings in there, and then me standing on the edge of this other world.

I am a red and white speck flying through time and space. What is it all about? I am as fulfilled by myself here as I could be anywhere. They say this is all an illusion, I tend to believe that. So where is the reality and when is it that we wake up from the dream?

All my love


One Response to “California”

  1. Erika Says:

    Danielle, thanks for your lovely email 🙂 I would say you are ‘california dreaming’….it seems there have been many songs written about the effect of the place on the psyche. Thank you for your words and thoughts to me.

    I sit here in my little Studio 217 listening to a classical arrangement of West Side Story on cbc fm and for some reason I am finishing a painting I did the day Alberto died. It has one word on it ‘Done’, remember how he used the word. We had many conversations and playful talks about ‘Done’!

    The painting is a visual of the Spirit of death grabbing him away from this dimension and realm. It is a kind of violent shocking image of someone who was taken unexpectedly. So I have decided to call it “The Death of Alberto Replanski” It is 10×10 acrylic on spackling on canvas. I will post it on my blog

    The Spirit of Death hovers over a vacant yellow seat where the master once sat waiting for his students and visitors at his studio. The studio floor is red, full of his passion and desire to create his work. On the table is a small red object representing a new work, a prototype of some sort. The interplay of black and white represent death and life and the battle between the two spiritual realms. The movement and strokes represent the quick passing of the Master, Alberto Replanski, who was beloved by students and is remembered by those who worked with him for a long or short season.

    He touched and affected so many, and despite his struggles, his anger and frustration he was a wonderful father, husband and man of integrity.

    Psalm 15 was the one the Rabbi read at his graveside as he placed back into the earth.

    Psalm 15

    The guest of Yahweh, a psalm of David.

    Yahweh, who has the right to enter your tent,
    or to live on your holy mountain?

    The man whose way of life is blameless,
    who always does what is right,
    who speaks the truth from his heart,
    whose tongue is not used from slander,

    who does no wrong to his fellow,
    cast no discredit on his neighbour,
    looks with contempt on the reprobate,
    but honours those who fear Yahweh;*

    who stands by his pledge at any cost
    does not ask interest on loans,
    and cannot be bribed to victimise the innocent.
    —If a man does all this, nothing can ever shake him.


    I look forward to your next posts….never mind about those Harleys 🙂 exo

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