Ben Lomond, CA in the Santa Cruz mountains, November 7, 2010: So I was scheduled to assist at a Tantra Yoga Beginner’s Weekend Workshop with the SourceTantra folks, and therefore on the day after my “How to Feel Good Fast” event, I packed, kissed my dogs good bye, and drove down to the Santa Cruz mountains.
But then, as it turned out, the person with whom I’d volunteered to assist hadn’t passed on the info to the person who passed on the info to the person who coordinates that event, and so … they didn’t need me to assist at all.
But since I’d already blocked off the time in my appointment book, and didn’t want to have wasted the time I spent writing it down and all …
Pleased down to my innards, I visited Anne over the weekend, loafing and becoming an idle bum for a while, at her woodsy cabin in the big clearing among towering redwoods five minutes up the mountain. Alba Road Ashram.
Saturday evening we made a campfire out back in a ring of stones, from wood I hauled by wheelbarrow from the big stash at the bottom of the clearing, and we watched the daylight fade into the dark, as the sparks of embers rose and circled above the fire.
When the campfire had burned down nicely into red-glowing coals, we shoved two ‘ToasTites’ into the bed of coals — do you know these things? They’re like flat metal disks with two long handles to press the disks together, and inside the disks you put buttered bread and some filling to cook — and we made tasty toasted toastite sandwiches!
Mine had indian-spiced chickpeas inside. Hers was home-made applesauce. Yumbo!
On Sunday morning we awoke to a gray sky, and before the rain began, we cleaned the old bathtub beside her deck, scrubbing the old spots left by the pine trees. Her plumber had brought the hot water out and made faucets and showerhead above the tub, so the faucets on the tub were plugged up. (This was her clever plan so two people could get into the tub and lean back without faucets poking one of these people.)
I improvised a stopper for the tub and it began to fill with hot water, steam rising up into the chill air. Back inside, peeking out through the french doors, I kept a weather eye on the tub, and when it was full …
A chill rain began, and …
We stripped and ran skinny-dipping and yelping and gasping out into the startled chill of the rain and plunked ourselves in the tub filled to the brim and sloshing with hot water, sinking gratefully down deep into the steamy water. Ahhh!
There we sat, laughing, faces turned up to the raindrops falling. so cool and lovely against the warm comfort of the bath. Anne looked like a little kid, a six-year-old with short, wet, curly hair, grinning as the raindrops streamed down her face.
Then, to celebrate the occasion, I made up song lyrics about the rain, she translated into French, and I sang them loudly in Edith Piaf style. No doubt this greatly entertained the deer beyond the edge of the forest below us.
And the rain fell down from the sky, blessing us.
How sweet it was.