Two weeks and a
bit in Northern California: First, the amount and quality of the light, so much
more and more intense than in Scotland at this time of year, dazzled us. Then, the weather shocked us: clear, no rain,
day after day after day, with large daily temperature swings: lows near
freezing, highs near 70 most days. California
is in its second year of abnormally dry conditions but not yet willing to
declare itself in drought: The hills are still as brown as in August: only one
maybe two inches of rain so far this season, setting records for least amount
of precipitation. (In Murray Creek, my
nephew Patrick reported more snow than rain so far.) So it is a terrible beauty, this endless
wonderful weather that threatens water-tables and the growing of crops in one
the major agricultural regions of the world.
If rice or nuts or citrus or vegetables or livestock fail in California,
the rest of the world suffers. Groceries will cost more in Glasgow.
Still, it’s been
an eventful couple of weeks, with many visits with family and others:
Kenneth (fellow
refugee from winter, in his case Iowa) and I went on long, almost epic runs; on
one, having missed the main path we struggled 1200 feet up still bicycle trails
to the top of Pleasanton Ridge and saw the valley spread out far below us and
into the distance.
On the Winter
Solstice we drove over the Santa Cruz mountains to celebrate with Willy and his
family in Soquel, marking the nadir of the year over a blazing fire bowl in his
backyard, with sparklers and the passing of a cup of 18-year Glengoyne Whiskey.
For Christmas,
Brendan & Mayumi flew down from Seattle with our grandchildren Mizuki (3½)
& Yuki (4 months), who charmed and bemused us. Mizuki affectionately called me “Vampa,”
making me think of some sort of affable but spooky hyperparent. On our adventure to Mount Diablo State Park she
dragged Kenneth along everywhere, pulling him by the hand, up and down the
jumble of sandstone boulders in Rock City; the next day he was sore all over.
On Boxing Day
(not celebrated in the US as such but noted as the 2nd busiest
shopping day of the year), we made a pilgrimage to Murray Creek. We found the place transformed: Late last August, a goat-herding couple named
James and Loraina had fled to Murray Creek to escape the Great Yosemite Fire
with their herd of 27 goats and other animals.
After four months, the goats had (b)eaten back the encroaching army of
star thistle and were well along in bringing the undergrowth under control.
During the day we spent there, I visited with Joseph and his kids Ayla and
Erhan and helped him with creative parenting; we watched James and Loraina herd
the goats hither and thither, assisted by their big and enthusiastic white dog
(who terrified Mizuki); we met the lonely llama in the upper pasture, mourning
her dead partner and recently-miscarried baby; we walked the labyrinth with
Mayumi and Mizuki; Louisa and Natasha blew in from Auburn for an intense visit,
gift exchange, and meal. Along the way,
we discussed the future of Murray Creek:
Do we want to fill both houses with people who can help keep the place
up and create a community/collective?
What happens when the family wants to visit? Does anyone have a better idea? No one really knows what’s best, but in the
meantime, I think it’s great to feel the renewed energy and see what James
& Loraina have been able to do.
On the
penultimate day of 2013, we went into San Francisco to see the extensive and
often-magical David Hockney exhibit at the De Young Art Museum, featuring
primarily portraits and landscapes, many quite large or whole-room
installations depicting the four seasons in the artist’s native Yorkshire. Marjorie, Kris and I were quite taken by the
room with the 4-panel X 16-camera video installation, each wall showing a drive
down the same forest road in a different season, as if we were a giant gliding
insect with many-faceted eyes, each oriented slightly differently from the
rest. (This just made Diane and her mom queasy, so they moved rapidly on.)
We’ve been following Hockney’s work since the 1980’s so it was very interesting
to see the evolution of this protean artist, to be inspired by his continuing
embrace of new technologies, and to appreciate his generative cycling between
old and new media.
After a quiet New
Year’s Eve, on the first day of the new year we drove down to Paso Robles for a
brief visit with Anna, Jim and Luke, to catch up and mark the New Year. Anna treated us to tortilla soup, while we
brought each other up to date. Once again, I brought along my bottle of 18-year
old Glengoyne whiskey, so we passed the quaich to mark the New Year. The next morning we had patitsa, a favourite
Christmas bread from our mother, which led to many reflections on times past.
Now we’re headed
east again, for a bit of time in the frigid Midwest, dreading the large new
snowfall and record-low wind chills predicted for Toledo over the next few
days. It’s been cold and rainy in
Glasgow, but two weeks in gorgeous California weather have more than undone the
winterizing effects of our previous Scottish conditioning, so now we are about
to go, as you might say, Cold Turkey into the depths of Winter.
Looking back,
there have been many high points to this visit to California, and it has been a
surprisingly busy time. No wonder I
still haven’t finished reading that 800-page edited book on Gestalt Therapy
that I’m supposed to be writing a book review on!
However, the
least expected of this winter’s California Adventures was my visit with Ann
Weiser Cornell, who had sent me a message on Facebook when she saw that I was in
California. Ann is a well-known and
highly talented Focusing trainer whom I’ve known for a while and whose
formulations of focusing and self-critical processes I’ve found very useful
over the years and particularly with the socially anxious clients I’ve been
working with in Scotland for the past 6 years.
So it was that on New Year’s Eve, I drove over to Berkeley where I spent
several hours of highly enjoyable and stimulating talk. Ann proudly showed me her workshop in
a converted warehouse loft space. We talked about training, large groups and all
the different people who we knew in the Person-Centred-Experiential therapy
world. We discussed her new book, Focusing in Clinical Practice (2013),
including the role of focusing in EFT and role of emotion in Focusing (it
depends on what you mean by “emotion”).
After lunch at one of her favourite cafes, she drove me out to the
Berkeley Marina; there we walked out to the end of the pier, where we could see
the new Bay Bridge, Alcatraz, the Golden Gate Bridge, Marin and so on, and as
we walked we talked about our lives.
On the way back
to her office, Ann asked me about my sense of the coming year: Recognizing this as a Focusing question, I
paused, reflected, remarked that this was a very appropriate question for New
Year’s Eve. Then I said: First, to
continue to take care of my health by resisting the push to overwork. Second, to progress my long-delayed book Emotion-Focused Counselling in Action,
which Les Greenberg and I have a contract to do. And the, third, surprising myself, to move
toward the emerging reality of retiring and leaving Scotland in 2.5 years and
eventually (we hope) returning to California.
But before all that,
of course, there is a concentrated blast of wintry weather to face. Between the drought of California and the
frigid cold of Ohio, I’m pretty sure we will be left feeling very glad to be
back to the damp but relatively mild Scottish winter. Lang may oor lums reek!
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