here in california

So, I live in California. Just an hour or two south of the Bay Area in a tiny national monument called Pinnacles. I am living in the motor home with my boyfriend. I like it here, a lot. There’s no cell phone service in the park. We have to drive for ten minutes and then sit by the side of a sweltering highway to use the phone, so I don’t really call anyone. Ever. I can only get internet by walking to another building nearby and asking the residents of said building if I can borrow their wifi – not exactly conducive to sitting all day on it. These are both very, very positive things. The isolation is pretty complete and I am really appreciating that. Ted works four ten hours a day every week, so I have forty hours of solitude. There are hiking trails all around me. There are caves. There are rolling golden hills of a quality only Californian. We live forty-five minutes from Hollister which is where we do our grocery shopping once a week. They have a fantastic farmer’s market, good enough that we can get every bit of produce, dairy, and a lot of meat there and only have to go to the store for cleaning supplies, condiments, and stuff like that.

Every weekend we GO. The first weekend we went to Berkeley for a Michael Franti & Spearhead show (fucking awesome!) and then down to camp around Santa Cruz, which is surrounded by coastal redwoods and epic beaches. Last weekend we went to the Indians, a recreation area about an hour and a half away, where we camped and hiked and found a clear, perfect river with rounded boulders and deep pools for swimming. There was a sandy bar to set up camp. We made love, swam, read books, explored up and downstream, made love, swam. There was no one else around, which surprised me. This is California… aren’t there supposed to be people everywhere? But our theory is that if you have to walk more than a quarter of a mile to get there, the people disappear. Our little piece of paradise was a mile from the parking lot along a trail with sweeping views of the canyon we were descending.

Then we went to Monterey. His friend was visiting and wanted to see the aquarium. We loved it so much we upgraded our day passes into year ones and can now go see the fishes whenever we want.

I’m happy here, but I’m not in love. Ted will never love me. We know this. He thinks I love him. Not because I’ve been dishonest but because otherwise why would I stay? I am not sure why I stay. I think because right now, despite the fact that I am doing nothing in the way of projecting my future forward, I am happy. I feel like I am doing a lot of work inside. I feel like I am doing a lot of spiritual work, something I’ve never done in my life. I feel a little shy about this religion, Buddhism, that has so captured my imagination. It feels like the more I learn about it, the more I learn about myself, and that is a powerful feeling for me.

So I sit and practice meditation in the dappled light of a forest-covered stream or gaze up at the redwoods contemplating impermanence or wander the streets of Salinas puzzling about what compassion looks like as there are homeless people everywhere but I am not inclined to give them money. It feels like I am just peering inside a slivered box of Buddhism and I am patiently awaiting a fuller picture.

Ted is mean sometimes. He is very judgmental. He can be cruel. He is constantly asking for affirmation that he is not a bad guy and because of the way he uses manipulative words it is impossible for me not to affirm him. He is not drinking anymore and that is very positive for both of us but sometimes he holds it against me, despite the fact that I’ve made it completely clear that it’s his choice, I’m simply not going to enable the drinking anymore by ignoring it or sanctioning it.

I am standing up for myself a lot more. When he makes me angry I let him know. I don’t cower in fear of a worse outburst. I stand and tell him he’s acting like a child and it’s unacceptable. He responds well to this.

(He hasn’t ever hurt me. He won’t, I know that.)

I also know I am currently staying in this relationship for the opportunity to be alone for 40 hours a week. To explore central California. To live in a national park. To have excellent sex and 80% of the time excellent companionship.

I wonder if I am selling myself short. I feel, though, like I will always be able to leave once I am unhappy. And he is constantly telling me I am missing my chance to find someone else, but I am not very worried about that. It feels like I am in the right place, at the right time. It feels like I have just enough time in my life to accomplish just what I want.

<3clea