Mussel Rock

3/10/2012

Kelsey Parker

First Draft: Ordinary Mystic

Chapter: Mussel Rock

     After our talk, things got better. The next day at work I was full of energy and everyone around me was cheering me on, at least in my mind they were. One of my coworkers called me a superhero. And the rest of the day, I flew around doing all my tasks and basking in the good energy of Creativebug Inc. 

     Soon as 5pm rolled around, I was running on empty. My legs and knees and feet ached. My throat was swollen and sore, and my entire head was an over blown balloon. I got in my car and saw that I had two giant wooden frames that I needed to bring up to the studio and I also had parked a visiting artist's car very far away and he had no idea where it was. So here I am, beaten down, sitting behind the wheel of my little car trying to figure out the most responsible way to tackle this situation. I did something that I need to do more often. I closed my eyes, took a few deep breaths, got into my head. Once there, I asked, "Self, what does this situation ask of me, right now?" After a few moments it was clear. I knew exactly what I needed to do. I texted my boss the location of the artist's car, and drove to the loading dock where I left the giant wooden frames in a storage space to be carried up to the studio on monday morning. Problem solved!

    I put that lil car in drive, plugged in some good jams, and headed for home. It was 5:30 or so then and the sky was a lovely coral pink. Coming over the hill into pacifica, I was met with a strange site. HUGE thick gray plumes of fog. Any Pacifican would state that that is not an unusual sight, but I am a Pacifican too, have been all my life, and these clouds were different. They were darker gray, kind of purpley, and the low rays of the setting sun cast slight orange halos beneath them. At the top of the hill, the sun was directly behind a thicket of fog and read as a perfect orange circle. I wound my way down the curves of the hill slower than usual. Pondering if I would get off at the next exit and go to my favorite cliff lookout, or drive straight home. I turned the corner and my eyes were greeted by a path of golden blue sparkle that the sun was sending to me across the ocean. I knew then, exactly where to go. 

Once, I had seen phosphorescence in the waves below these cliffs. Once, I had tumbled playfully down its rolling slopes of iceplant. Once, I had watched a paraglider take off from a perch nearby, and I must have lost track of time because I was sitting there, in the same place, as I watched him land. It felt as though I had gone away with him, into the clouds. And only come back in contact with the earth as his feet touched back down, onto the sandy cliffs of Mussle Rock. It is a magical place. It is my place where I feel whole, free and peaceful. 

     Driving my little car out to the cliffs I pass the Fishbowl, a miniature, toned down version of Mussel Rock. Its sandy gullies are more shallow and mellow than those that lie a stone's throw to the north. I take people there who I know can't handle the power of The Cliffs. They always have a pleasant time, and so do I.  I keep driving but make a note that I could turn around and come back here if The Energy is wrong for any reason over there. 

     Up and over a tiny hill and onto a dirt road barely wide enough to turn around. I park on a sandy, rocky bank facing south. The ridges of Pacifica are absolutely gorgeous from up here. I am always smitten when I first arrive here and get a good look at the town I grew up in. I feel like an explorer looking out on a beautiful expanse of land for the very first time. I feel that same immense sense of pride that I think an Ohlone might have felt. One may have destroyed the other, but both had this feeling and now, so do I. Breathe. Grab the giant army coat I always keep in my car and click the door shut. 

     Voices come from behind a cypress tree. There is a neighborhood up there, but you can't see it. I shake out my hair, don sunglasses, and trot out across the ice plant covered dunes. Up a ways, down a ways, this a ways, that a ways, and finally find it. My spot. A deep valley, gently sloped on either side, and pointing out towards the color-shifting horizon. I sit down. Sigh. Breath. Lay back. Nothing but blue skies above me. Something itchy starts to creep up on me and I decide to stand. 

     

I sink my spiritual roots deep into the ground. Two and a half times deeper than I am tall, and I begin the first nine steps of Sung Style Tai Chi. 

     My hands move accross the sky at the same speed as the birds in the distance. As I move left, up the slope, I see the sweeping ridges pour into the sea. The ocean is a cool blue, blendy and smooth. The waves crashing at the base of the cliff are a small part of this big picture. I will focus on them later. As my nine steps come to a close, I am in perfect balance. I walk back up the hill to my car and float, somewhere far above my actual body, all the way home.

***end chapter: Mussel Rock***

More to come! :D