I’m in Ashland, Oregon!

Hello, people!

Happy Autumn!

For the past six months I’ve been on somewhat of a sabbatical from consistent blogging. Though I haven’t been sharing as much as I’d prefer, I’ve still been focusing on my soul-healing and joy-following journey around the world. After about a year in Italy, I returned to the States in June of this year to celebrate the lives of my grandmother and father, who both made their transitions while I was out of the country.

Since returning stateside I’ve been roaming the west coast – Washington, Oregon and California. I spent a few months living in Rogue River/Grants Pass, Oregon, with my Aunt Jody and good friend China Brooks. I went on a gorgeous camping retreat on Mount Shasta, then roadtripped down to San Francisco and Los Angeles and San Diego, reuniting with friends I hadn’t seen in years. Reunion is one of my favorite things in the world – the joy of reunion is worth the separation.

My intuition talked me into going to Burning Man super last minute – two days before the Burn started. It was transformational, as always, and ended up redirecting the course of my life. I ended up living in San Francisco for a bit afterwards with friends I met on the playa, then went to visit Portland for the first time ever before coming back down to San Francisco for the month of October.

And now, I’m in Ashland, a spiritual town known for its Shakespeare festivals and for being the home of author Neale Donald Walsch, the guy who channeled “Conversations with God” (which I still haven’t read… I tried to read it in Italian but didn’t have the patience).

China and I are living in a beautiful 117-year-old yellow Victorian house for the month, working on creative projects and learning how to be in healthy relationship in close quarters. Ie, practicing talking about our feelings, being totally transparent about our fears and vulnerabilities, and laughing at our crazy egos!

Yes, there are ghosts in the house, though after the first night they seem happy we’re here, and at our request they haven’t done anything to spook us… yet.

Here’s a tour of the downstairs!

 

Pumice Stones and Driftwood

I was floating on the edge of a large emerald-green lake in Southern Oregon, grabbing at the egg-sized natural pumice stones that were bobbing about – floating rocks! – amid the submerged and gnarked branches of a giant fir tree that must’ve made a glorious sound when it came crashing and splashing into the water from its great height.

My aunt Jody was nearby. When she’d handed me a buoyant stone, perfectly shaped and sized to my hand, though surprisingly lightweight, I’d had the idea to collect some good specimens and sell them – all natural, hand-picked pumice stones from Southern Oregon! People buy pumice stones,  and I’ve been encouraged to come up with innovative ways to make money and trade by a book I’m reading about living on sailboats – ‘Seasteading’ or ‘Sailing the Farm,’ I forget which. I’m reading both right now as I found free PDFs and saved myself about $50 for an out-of-print book.

Back to gathering the floating pumice stones amidst the driftwood.