I got to the rehearsal studio on Thursday at 10AM, ready to drive to shows in Oregon, and up to the Olympic Peninsula of Washington over three days. We had last weekend off. My life had been still for four days. The outings were walks with and without the pug, and a couple afternoons in the big park reading magazines and watching the sky while the pug kept watch in the soft green grass. Sometimes, on his back.
When I arrived at the practice studio and for the first few hours of the drive up North on Thursday, my mind felt like a clear bell. My heart was so wide. Each of the days off I had walked through the San Francisco mornings for over an hour, breathing the cool ocean air, marveling at the crystal blue skies, gazing with fascination at the gorgeous architecture, and feeling that to live in such a palace would be a weight if it kept me out of these beautiful, simple and still days. I would love to just be able to walk through these places, to see how rooms are laid out, to feel how the air must be to face the Bay with a clear view and lie in your bed with the smell of those fragrant gardens and the salt on your lips and no worry about money, ever.