West Coast road trip, Days 4-5, Part 2: Julia! Oregon coast

I sit inside my room at the Money Saver Motel in Newport Oregon. Cars and trucks whip by on Highway 101 just out my door. This is the second post before breakfast, even before coffee! But I am sleeping so well with these arm bands on, that I feel much more productive early in the morning, which is my natural time to arise. Not surprising, since I was actually born just a few minutes before the sun rose!

To catch up: after the Convergence, I turned the car north and headed for Eureka, and Julia, and, I thought, a CE-5 group that I would lead that evening. I follow google map instructions, but the voice brings me to, what? A storage place. Huh? The instructions must be wrong. I call her. “Yep! That’s me! I live in a gated community!” She laughs. “I’ll come let you in.”

Sure enough, there she is, pressing the magic numbers from inside to open the big wide gate. And yep, she lives in a storage unit place — as of the last two weeks. Long story, but anyway, here’s the open door to her new digs. It used to be the office, but they enlarged it to include a tiny kitchen and bathroom. And the price is right!

Quite a change from the last time I visited Julia. Then living in Sausalito, she had scored the beautiful hillside cottage with several decks in trees of . . .  drumroll . . . Jim Morrison!

Well, since then, Julia has downsized her job to get out of the Bay Area, releasing 2/3 of her income to do it, and is still facing years of back taxes and credit card debt. So this place looks pretty good right now, when she had decided she needed to move out of the home she bought with her daughter. This is temporary, she says. But then, what isn’t temporary? Julia has moved nine times since she moved seven years ago to northern California from Bloomington, where she had been one of the original people in the Green Acres neighborhood to first start working with me and Georgia on reviving the neighborhood association. In fact, she lived only a few doors down DeKist from me back then.

I couldn’t stop laughing. Especially when I took a photo of her yard, more like the yard of a prison with its barbed wire strung high.

 

 

So, Ms. Grand Cross Scorpio woman,  you’ve descended so far into Pluto’s realm that you put yourself inside a prison? But then, looking around me as we sat and began to catch up with our lives, “You’re constructing a prison paradise!” Amazing how light and energetic it felt inside her little space, despite being surrounded by walled off portions of other people’s stuff. Oh yes, stuff! That’s one of the functions of all her moves, to gradually let go of stuff — her big, generous Jupiter  is in materialistic Taurus — .

What a great time we had just sitting there. Decided to take a few selfies together:

As the day wore down to sunset, things just got funnier and funnier. Terrific talking, and BIG, THROATY LAUGHTER. Exactly what I needed.

Oh, and the CE-5? Well, no one that she knows around there wanted to do it. Okay good! Keep talking, and maybe stroll down the storage unit avenue after dark to the end, to see if we can see anything in the sky. This night happened to be full moon, exactly the opposite of when you want to do a CE-5, at new moon, when the sky is darkest.

So we did the stroll, but our heart wasn’t in it; instead, we hustled back down past all the storage tombs to her strange little homey-homey, ranging far and wide in our conversation, and doing Tarot for each other with cards I had given her from my deceased husband Jeff’s collection way back when. I had forgotten about these cards! More laughter.

In the morning, when we went outside to go, me to Oregon, Julia to her work at Humboldt State, what! Amazing . . . fingers streaking through the dust on her bumper. Huh? ET? Long, thin, Geez! Maybe we had our CE-5. Maybe we were visited after all! More laughter.

Then I turned north again, and spent a wonderful day processing the memories of both the Convergence and Julia, arriving in Newport at around 4 p.m., and headed straight to the beach.

The beach was intensely windy, and scoured clean of anything except  a few crab legs and one tiny clam shell that I picked up as a sourvenir. I walked close to the edge of a dune, in an attempt to get away from the wind, and took this picture,

which shows a lot more visual interest for me than an empty wind- swept beach.

Soon I gave up, climbed back up, and walked to the other side of Highway 101, and down a hill to the Bay side, where local stores, bars, and restaurants still thrive in this old fishing village transformed into a tourist town.

Came across one young woman, the owner and weaver in a store with local arts and crafts. Darn! She gave me her card and I’ve misplaced it. In any case, we got to talking right away, first about that windy beach. She tells me the wind blows from the north in the summer and builds up the dunes. Then in the winter it blows from the south and it rains, and the dunes melt down to flat. She tried to explain how it was explained to her why that happens, something about the way the earth and sun change in their relations to one another seasonally, and that more cosmic perspective launched us further — to NASA! She says she knows people who work there, and they tell her that we have mapped the surface of Mars more thoroughly than that of the ocean depths here on Earth. She also says that on some website one scientist said in the comment section that we don’t do it, because it’s too scary. She thinks that was a joke, but who knows?

She runs a store with 75 artists and craftspeople’s contributions. All local. She once figured out that if she spends, say, 20 minutes with each one per month, that comes out to 35 hours! No wonder she doesn’t get as much weaving done as she would like.

Then I wandered down to check on the seals, slumbering peacefully for the most part, piled close or on top of each other, but with little territorial spats mixed in, and one even heaved another off the floating dock. All accompanied of course, by the short throaty cries.

Then back to see the sunset.

Today I head to Seattle.

This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *