Highway One

I spent my last two days after class was over exploring the Monterey Bay. I loved Pfeiffer State Park in Big Sur, Point Lobos and the butternut squash pizza at La Bicyclette in Carmel, the Hidden Peak teahouse in Santa Cruz, and Asilomar Beach and the aquarium in Monterey. 

I remembered the Hanuman temple I had visited on my road trip and how it overlooked the Monterey Bay. When I visited the temple two years ago it seemed so remote, a place I would never get back to. I realized from where I was now it was less than an hour away. I wanted to return and say thank you for the book on yoga therapeutics I found there, Anatomy and Asana, that brought me to Toronto. And to honor the journey that carried me, like Hanuman, over the obstacles of the last few years.

Next to Hanuman, at the top of Mount Madonna, I could see fog hover like a quilt over the ocean. I noticed from that vantage point how much space there is above the clouds. I thought about how much had changed since I last stood in that spot next to Hanuman, how I was on the way to start my internship then, and now, two years later, I was a running a private practice, specializing in yoga therapeutics and craniosacral. How it came faster than I thought because the need was greater than I knew.

I thought about this blog and how I set out to draw and started to write. When I first thought about becoming an OT I was afraid I was giving up on my life as an artist. I saw them as separate things. When I told Nick Bantock, years ago, about this concern he told me, "It's as if your interests are drawing up a mountain. You can't see yet because they're on different sides, unknown to each other. But keep going, keep feeding them because they are drawing upward and will one day meet at the peak." 

From where I stood at the top of Mount Madonna, I could see that he was right.