Harps, Hikes & Home in San Francisco

Home. What a concept. What does it really mean? We know its not just bricks and floors and ceilings with leaks and creeks and other miscellaneous idiocynracies that can stick in our minds like honey dripping on the side of a glass jar. This week has been a revealing week about creating a quasi homebase foundation in a new city. A new city with a transient population, where everyone is either just arriving, just leaving or decided to “just stay” because, you really can be who you want to be.

This song came about 2 Saturdays ago, when San Francisco was “baking” in a delicious stew of “hot” sun and mild winds (aka 23 degrees delicious). After a lazy sleep in, a friendly room mate Brian, and an even friendlier Mission neighbour Matthew and I enjoyed some eggs with kale, tomatoes and red peppers and a coffee on the back porch of the Goddess vortex…aka my house.

Brian is a Puerto Rican acupuncture student at AIMC in Berkeley whose father from NYC, has adorned him with a hint of Puerto Rican on his neutralized accept that certainly doesn’t scream latino (as if the name Brian didn’t already do so). A musical man at heart, he recently came home with a vintage brass trumpet from a yard sale, then 2 days later, a small gorgeous wooden harp, his musical A.D.D, as he says, serves the household beautifully as just 1 day later, I awoke to the sound of his new harp being played down the hall ---almost a surreal awakening.

Matthew, a Colorado native with a heart of gold and smile that glows when making a cameo, works for Transfair, the NGO that certifies Fair Trade – he’s on the coffee, wine and beers side, although once referred to himself as possibly being a “peon” at an NGO.

(I mostly noted this last part as I like the word “peon”) A travelling man, has studied in Paris, worked in Ghana, and among other neighbourly invites, was my local host 2 weekends ago for the infamous Pride festival with his fabulous visiting friend Jeff.

After a hike up Bernal Heights that afternoon, I came back to the ranch to sun bake a bit, read the paper, and apparently join Brian in a sing-along to this song “Home” Which subsequently has been stuck in my head as the default track on the ibrain while riding my bike to work. Bernal Heights is the neighbourhood just a few blocks south of mi casa and named after the grassy-topped hill that divides Mission & Bernal Heights with Outer Mission on the other side, and provides a spectacular view of the city. Lucking in for a sunny day, the views from the top were blissful point of view of this enchanting city...

After a toss of the Frisbee at Precita Park, I returned home with no plans for the rest of the avo, but perhaps the reading of a book in a park, the paper on the back staircase or even a , or even a blog post musing about the flurry of activity with the YOP. The latter option was what happened, until the sing-along with Brian that is.

And as I begin to let my mind follow its intention and will, I am faced with the occasional moment of stillness - no plans, no net, no default activity to distract as I continue to set out each day to lap up this life of growing honesty and sincerity of what passion looks and feels like for me. At times vulnerable and feeling rather exposed to the whims of seemingly insignificant occurances, its amazes me that even the kind smile of a passing stranger can re-instil a wavering blip in self-confidence. No deposit, no return. Smile at someone and they will smile back. Amazing. Say good morning and you'll have one in return. Amazing. Amazing how maybe anything we're looking for could be realized if we just provide it first. mmmmm.....

Home is a strong word indeed, and has nothing to do with where we put our bed, furniture or keep our possessions...inevitably there's too many of that in any case anyways. Making a place feel like home, become home, or serve as the landing pad of safety, doesn't happen overnight, not even really over weeks or months. However, like all delicious parts of life, its a journey, a relationship that changes and evolves as we exchange time and energy while rotating around the blazing sun. I've been at the Goddess Vortex for over 3 weeks now, and am realizing more and more each day, that making a home requires patience, an exceptance of sometimes feeling alone, the openess to look far beyond previous horizons and yet to still listen, with a soft ear, to the voice of our own soul.

So although it’s taken me a few extra days to post a long overdue entry about mi casa stay tuned on Friday for a deep look inside the Goddess Vortex, the colourful souls that create this urban oasis and the revolving door of characters that are making an appearance in the Year of Passion…