Everything is Beautiful at the Ballet

The magnificent Grand Pas de Deux. Stunning leaps. Perfect Pirouettes. The San Francisco ballet's presentation of the Nutcracker, everyone's favorite holiday performance, was incredible! Though our seats were in the last row of the uppermost balcony, the grace and grandeur of this ballet was more than visible. My elementary school teachers scheduled viewings of the Nutcracker every year at the Orpheum, but the decadent costumes and opulent scenery of this performance surpassed all that I remembered of the Nutcracker I saw back then. I felt like a child again as the Sugarplum Fairies danced across the stage, and the Snowflakes flurried gracefully against a glittering white backdrop! Every time I see a ballet, I am amazed at the precision and stamina of the dancers, but I was especially impressed by the excellence of Tina Leblanc and Gonzalo Garcia, the dancers featured in the picture to the left (courtesy of www.nutcrackerballet.net). Garcia seemed to glide effortlessly through the air as he performed a series of leaps and spins. Leblanc was equally as talented, and they danced together as though they were one soul. I was moved to tears by the sheer beauty of their last dance, the Grand Pas de Deux, a tango of sorts for the ballet. Their bodies were always in perfect sync, leaning and turning in perfect harmony with the music. Incredible!
As we left the War Memorial Opera House and headed into the cool wet night, the magic of San Francisco replaced the glittering fantasy of the Nutcracker. Men in tuxedos and women in beautiful evening gowns streamed from the opera house and the Louis M. Davies symphony building next door. Taxis picked up theatre goers who were swathed in fur coats, and little girls dressed in white coats and berets. The city lights glowed brightly all around us, and I felt imbued with the magic of the holidays for the first time in years. Everything was made beautiful by the ballet!

Rainy Days and Mondays (or Saturdays)

Today was our first taste of the rainy season in California. I suppose we'll have a wet Christmas rather than a white one! The unexpected dreariness was an appropriate background to the departure of our friends, who are renouncing the traveling lifestyle in favor of a permanent residence. Though we've only known them since August, they were our constant companions and travel guides. Unfortunately, this is the curse and the blessing of a rambling lifestyle - meeting new friends only to have to let them go (at least for the moment). Ted's brother is here with us to celebrate Christmas - a bright spot in this otherwise cloudy day.
Since rainy days provide plenty of time for reading, I was able to finish The Genius Factory by David Plotz, an intriguing book that proves the old adage that truth is stranger than fiction. Plotz attempts to investigate the lives of over 200 children who were born as a result of the Nobel Prize sperm bank, otherwise known as the Repository for Germianl Choice, which was founded by aging millionaire named Robert Graham in 1980. Graham's dream was to produce a race of intelligent children who would be capable of solving the pressing problems of the modern world. Because he believed intelligence was hereditary, he set out to collect the sperm of Nobel prize winners, which he planned to market to Mensa women. Unfortunately for Graham, sperm banks were not taken seriously in his day and most Nobel prize winners were not interested in donating sperm. He scoured medical and law school campuses in hopes of adding more sperm to the fledgling bank. Though the bank eventually succeeded in producing 200 children, it closed in 1999, and never followed up on any of its genius offspring. David Plotz attempts to connect the dots in order to prove once and for all whether or not intelligence is indeed inherited.
Plotz's research uncovers more questions than answers, however, and of course covers the basic argument of nature versus nurture, though in an intriguing and provocative new way. One of the donor children asks himself how much of himself he owes to his donor father and how much he owes to his upbringing. Has school always been easier to him because his father was supposedly a genius, or was it because his mother always enrolled him in enrichment activities? Was Molly a chemistry whiz and dancer because of her father or because her mother adored ballet? In other words, what exactly do we owe to our genes? An intriguing question, as an increasing amount of ailments and afflictions are blamed on our genetic codes. At what point do we take responsibility for our own actions and attributes? Will we soon have a new legal defense that "my genes made me do it"? Will we also then say, "I know it was a brilliant piano recital. Piano playing is in my genes!"?
Perhaps you all can ponder on this connundrum as well, and let me know what you think. I will spend the rest of this rainy day working on my scrapbook and thinking about what I owe to my genes and upbringing, and what I owe to my own determination. Until tomorrow . . .
By: Rebecca
Photo By: Ted (Taken in Big Sur)

Back to Reality (Sort of)

I know. I know. I promised daily blog postings during a giddy pre-vacation moment, and I have yet to deliver. Thank you to all of you faithful readers who called me and asked for a new posting. Here it is at long last.

We returned to sunny California after experiencing a brief taste of Tennessee winter, and were glad to have a few short sleeve days before the cold snap hit here. Even though the weather men here have announced it is VERY cold, it is actually in the high 40s, and feels nothing like the middle of December. Since we have been back, we have been on several hikes, partied in San Francisco, strolled the streets of San Jose, and enjoyed dinner parties with friends old and new. Increasingly our life here sounds like something out of the movies, and I have found it gratifying to take a step back and examine where we have been and where we are planning to go. I offer as an example of my movie star existence the following conversation:

"Guess what?"
"What?"
"Several people from work are planning a trip to Tahoe next month. We're all going to rent a cabin and ski for the week!"
"Tahoe, really?"
"Yes, and my friend said she spent her last travel assignment in Cape Cod. We're thinking of spending the summer there. We'll just rent a beach house and play by the ocean for three months!"
"That would be great!"
"We were thinking of going back to Salt Lake City, but we'd rather go somewhere we haven't been before. My friend says there is nothing better than New England in the summer. What do you think?"

Tahoe? Cape Cod? San Francisco? I feel like an actress on an episode of Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous!

As I stood in the middle of the dance floor at a club in San Francisco last Friday night, singing Brown Eyed Girl at the top of my lungs (very off key, I might add), with a girl from New Zealand, a girl from Las Vegas, a girl from Ohio, and a guy from Chicago, I suddenly realized how amazing my life was. I attempted to freeze the moment in my mind - the dim lights, the aging singer and guitar player, all the 20 and 30 somethings singing, "You're my brown eyed girl" while danicng wildly, the few businessmen in suits, a handful of women in evening gowns fresh from the theatre, and me - a girl from Tennessee. The incredible thing was, I fit right in! At that moment, we were the fountain of youth. The immortal symbol of joie de vivre. Even in the midst of war. Even in the midst of economic decline. People from all walks of life and different states and countries found enough hope and joy to sing, "Sha - la - la- la -la- la - la - la -la -" and mean it. And I was right in the middle of it all, just as I always dreamed I would be.

By: Rebecca
Photo By: Ted (Sunset at Julia Pfeiffer Burns State Park in CA)

Yosemite's Grandeur

Shortly after my twenty-eighth birthday I viewed for the first time the grandeur Yosemite possesses. Yosemite Valley radiates with pride, bearing its meticulously glacially carved granite precipices and massive rock faces like a father carrying his newborn son. One can devour the day simply observing in all directions the expansive and undulating groves of massive trees. Ridges cloaked in vibrant shades of conifer green, effortlessly give way to monolithic granite masses, which timelessly inspire. Time magazine defines them as, “Perpetual Sentinels of Timeless Merit." The Mountains guard their sacred walls with undying precision, resisting mother nature's relentless attacks. The mountains seem alive - eager to disseminate timeless wisdom to those willing to listen.
By: Ted
Photo By: Ted (Taken in Portola Redwoods Park, CA)

Shadows on a Redwood

Photo By: Ted (Taken in Portola Redwoods Park, CA)

Portola Valley

For those of you who love Ted's pictures as much as I do, you'll be happy to know I'm working on adding a photo album link so that we can put more pictures on the site. Up to this point, we have been adding only one picture at a time. Hopefully this new addition to the site will be available the first week of December. I haven't been able to work on the site as much as I would like, since I have been cruising around town this past week with a good friend from home. After Thanksgiving, I plan to post daily. I've posted a few pictures just to tide you over in the mean time. Enjoy!

Photo By: Ted (Taken in Portola Redwoods Park, CA)

Dramatic Sunset

Rodeo Beach, not Rodeo Drive, is the place to see dramatic colors and textures, at least in northern California! After spending the day in San Francisco, we headed across the Golden Gate Bridge to Sauselito, a quaint port town remniscient of Positano, Italy. When we tired of the shopping and wanted to let our toes sink in the sand, we drove to Rodeo Beach, which marks the beginning of the Coastal Trail. A quick stroll from the parking lot affords dramatic views of the craggy coast line, a large granite mass we affectionately named Elephant Rock, a small tidal lagoon, and, of course, the Golden Gate Bridge, framed by the rolling California hills. Few beaches we have visited so far offer good hiking and good surfing along with the classic ocean view, but this one does. And the best part is, it's free! The beach is rarely crowded, and even when a lot of people are out enjoying the few days of sunshine, it is easy to slip away from the crowd. For anyone heading out to San Francisco, this is a perfect day trip away from the city, as it offers a chance to see what really makes northern California shine.
By: Rebecca
Photo By: Ted (Taken at Rodeo Beach, CA)

The Butterfly Capital of the World

"Pacific Grove, CA - the Butterfly Capital of the World" or so proclaims a wooden sign at the edge of town. Others not so infatuated with butterflies may recognize the town for its proximity to Pebble Beach, or for its famous coastal bed and breakfasts. But, being the butterfly lover that I am, I chose the quaint town for a weekend getaway simply to gaze at monarch butterflies. According to signs at the butterfly park (which was a disappointing two acres), monarch butterflies flock to Pacific Grove as a winter resting place on their annual trip to Mexico. The butterflies resting in Pacific Grove aren't the same ones that will be sunning in Mexico this summer. In fact, only the great-great grandchildren of these butterflies will live to see the promised land, yet they continue to reproduce in hopes that their descendants will complete the journey. Now that is a labor of love!
Pacific Grove is host to a variety of migrating species - steelhead trout, gray whales, sea lions, and probably others that I'm not aware of. According to a recent edition of National Geographic, Pacific Grove (aka Monterey Bay) is host to more varieties of sea life than any other area of the ocean that has been explored to date. Which leads me to wonder, what exactly makes Pacific Grove such a welcome resting point? Warm currents? Mild weather? The strong scent of Eucalyptus trees? Nobody seems to know. What they do know is that Pacific Grove is a wonderful place to gaze at migrating species, without being surrounded by the commercialism and development that plagues other coastal destinations. The biggest moneymaker for this town is its annual butterfly parade, which should give you a clue as to the simplicity and beauty of this town. Think about it - everyone dressed in elaborate butterfly costumes parading down the street, hailing the journey of a tiny creature that passes though the town on its way to a brighter desitination. Hotels and restaraunts are all dedicated to the butterfly theme. And thousands of people come from all over the country to attend the butterfly parade each year. What is it, exactly, that draws everyone to these butterflies?
Perhaps it is the fact that butterflies, like people, go through a period of metamorphosis, and always emerge more beautiful and graceful than when they entered. Perhaps it is because they embark on a journey that they will not complete, but do so with a flare for life that people crave. Maybe it is because they continue to reproduce and travel, despite the fact that their life lasts but a moment. Maybe it is because butterflies symbolize life and beauty and seem to immortalize the human spirit. Butterflies are the beginning of spring, and the hope of good things to come. Maybe that is why last Sunday a woman wept to see so many butterflies in one place, a grown man held completely still when a butterfly perched on his shoulder, and a child stood speechless as she watched a butterfly land on a purple flower and slowly flap its wings. We were all enthralled by this small symbol of life and hope and beauty. For a moment, we were all children again, lost in a simpler world.
By: Rebecca
Photo By: Ted (Taken in Pacific Grove, CA)

The Mountaintop Experience

You never know who you are going to meet at the top of a mountain. Once, on a mountain in Alaska, we met a Japanese couple who urged Ted to "do the dance" he had done the night before on the cruise ship. (The first night of our Honeymoon, Ted stripped on stage in front of a thousand people or so, but that is a story for another post). At least they agreed to take our picture!
Everyone searches for something different in the mountaintop experience. Some want the bragging rights, others want peace, and most people want the view. I can't say what we were looking for on our weekend climb to Buzzard's Roost in Pfeiffer Big Sur State Park. Mostly we wanted the catharsis of the climb, the solitude and mystery of the old growth forest, the gratification of making it to the top, and of course the beauty of the view. But, as usual, we found more than we were looking for: no less than the confirmation of the universe that we were on the right path.
Let me explain. In the past few weeks, we have been talking about giving up travel nursing for a year in order to walk the entirety of the American Discovery Trail, a recently constructed trail stretching from the coast of Maine to Point Reyes, California. Our goal is to document our hike in pictures and columns in a local paper or other publication. As we hiked to Buzzard's Roost, we talked about how many miles we might walk in a day, whom we could contact for funding, and what publications we might approach with a proposal.

When we got to the top of the mountain, we met a young couple who had brought along their eight week old daughter. We laughed with them about the challenges they faced with a new baby and talked about some of the changes in their lives, with an honesty that could only come with a mountaintop experience. In the course of the conversation, we brought up our idea about the American Discovery Trail. Low and behold, the man we were talking with is a marketing director for Marmot, a popular outdoor equipment company. We were, in fact, wearing Marmot jackets at the time of the meeting. He urged us to submit a proposal to the marketing department, and also to submit proposals to local outfitting stores who might want to use the adventure as a marketing tool. There, on top of the mountain, we received immediate affirmation of our idea. Amazing.

When I was in college, one of my professors, Dr. Mark Holland, wrote a book entitled Synchronicity, which basically asserts that the universe constantly provides clues about our lives if we are willing to look. For example, the book claims that if a person is thinking about the symbology of fish, then that person will see fish symbols seemingly everywhere he looks. The person will think that seeing all the fish is an amazing coincidence, which the author terms synchronicity. Really, though, the person's eyes are merely opened to the aspects of the world on which his mind is unconsciously focused. The more that a person really sees the world around him, the more synchronistic events he will experience. With this in mind, then, I will say that right now we must be very open to new experiences. It seems that every time we have an idea it is immediately confirmed or denied by synchonistic events. As with our idea about the American Discovery Trail.
We have talked about climbing Mount Diablo in the near future. I can only wonder who we will meet there.
By: Rebecca
Photo By: Ted (Brigsby Bridge, CA)

Did you find everything you were looking for?

"Did you find everything you were looking for?" the cashier asked as I laid out various items on the checkout counter. Though I knew it was a routine question, it somehow struck me as odd. I began to wonder if I had indeed found all that I was looking for.
Many of us go into stores with our carefully planned lists in hand. At least I do. Without my list, I feel lost and begin giving in to impulse buys, like 2 for $5.oo bags of candy. But with my list, I can navigate the store with ease, and even pat myself on the back at the checkout when I don't buy a thing that isn't on my list.
Of course, those of us with list type personalities tend to go through life with a similar frame of mind.

• 4.0 GPA at high school graduation - check
• Scholarship to dream university - check
• Graduate with honors from college - check
• Land a great job with excellent benefits - check
• Meet Mr. (Mrs.) Right - check
  
• Have 2 children, one boy, one girl - check
• Live happily ever after - In the process of

All of the things on the list are desirable, and if someone were so lucky as to achieve everything on the list, then she could assume that, yes, she has found everything that she was looking for. But as so often happens in life, it is the things that we are not looking for that enrich our lives and force us to grow.
This past weekend Ted and I ventured along coastal highway 1 to Julia Pfeiffer Burns State Park, looking for an 80 foot waterfall that spills over the side of a redwood covered mountain and crashes to the beach below. About 50 other people were looking for the same thing. Many people oohed and aaghed at the waterfall, remarked on its beauty, and followed the trail back to the car. Some people stayed longer to watch the sun set over the ocean. We all found the waterfall, and saw what we wanted to see - a beautiful and rare sight. However, there was much more to the park than first met the eye.

Ted and I went to the fall twice in one day in order to capture the waterfall in different lights. Upon our first walk down the trail, I commented on an abundance of morning glories growing along the side of the trail and wondered aloud how morning glories came to be growing in this particular spot along the coast. Prior to our second walk, I read the park sign detailing the history of the park. Apparently, Congressman and Mrs. Lathrop and Helen Hooper Brown, best friends of Franklin and Eleanor Roosevelt, owned a home on the property, affectionately named "The Waterfall House." Before she died, Helen Brown donated the land to the state, naming the park after her best friend and late neighbor, Julia Pfeiffer Burns. In 1965, the Waterfall House was razed, and Mrs. Brown's vast English garden was left to grow as wildly as it pleased.

Upon walking along the trail the second time, I noticed a variety of flowers, some species of which I have never seen before. Of particular beauty was a bright pink hanging flower, much like a columbine, but larger, which bloomed from a vine. The vines had grown through the tops of all the trees, providing a hanging pink canopy. Oddly enough, we had not seen these flowers on our first walk because we had been so focused on getting to the waterfall. Nobody else on the waterfall path seemed to notice the flowers either. On the second walk, we also noticed the stone foundation of the house, towering palm trees, and marble verandas. All of this had escaped us the first time. I began to see the property in a different light, and could almost envision the property as it had been many years before. I imagined Helen working diligently to prune the garden, Lathrop walking the paths along the ocean as he pondered new legislation, their children as they ran down to play in the spray of the waterfall along the beach. The world seemed to bloom before my eyes, as I began to really look at my surroundings. I noticed the rich turquise of the ocean, the brilliant pink of the sky as the sun began to set. Both Ted and I stood in amazement as we watched the sun set into the Pacific ocean for the first time, shocked at how quickly the sun moves down towards the line of the horizon. After the rest of the photographers and onlookers left, we were alone to enjoy the final colors of the evening sky and to watch the moon brighten beyond the shadow of a distant palm tree. Ted took the picture included above after all the other professional photographers left, sure there were no better pictures to be had.
As we walked back to our car, arm in arm, I can honestly say that we found everything we were looking for, and so much more.
By: Rebecca
Photo By: Ted (Taken in Julia Pfeiffer Burns State Park, CA)

Heading West

Photo By: Ted (Taken near Flagstaff, AZ)
The Open Road

The Lure of the Open Road

"Standing on a corner in Winslow, Arizona, such a fine sight to see!"
we sing/scream over the roar of the desert wind blowing through the open windows. Sweat is pouring off of us as we tap our feet and sing into fake microphones. We've just passed the exit for Winslow, AZ, and we are on corny trip song number 51. But we're on the open road, headed towards adventure, the daily grind of routine behind us, endless possibility and the beauty of the desert in front of us.

Memories of our first trip out west in the summer of 2004 replayed constantly once we returned home, creating a vague discontent in the background of our busy schedules. That fall I finished up my degrees in English and education, and Ted started his fifth year at the hospital as well as his third semester of nurse practioner school. In January, I was offered a position at an area high school teaching sophomore and senior English, while Ted continued working and going to school. Occassionally we talked about our feelings of restlessness, and the vague notion that we were not meant to settle down just yet. The thought of children, a house, a mortgage, and a forty year career was daunting. Over and over again, we asked each other what we wanted out of life. And the answer always seemed to be: travel. Settling down bothered us, though we did not know why.
Then in the spring, Ted read Into the Wild by John Krakauer, and we watched Motorcycle Diaries for the fifteenth time. Both the movie and the book focus on wandering adventurers, who give up the comforts of family and society in order to make sense of the world and their place in it. We felt the same pull between the security of family and the lure of the open road.

After I had trouble finding an open teaching position in Johnson City, and Ted decided he was burnt out on Nurse Practicioner school, we decided that the time was ripe to try something different. So Ted called a travel company, and within two months we were on the open road headed to California - America's utopia. We packed up the Element, rented a U-Haul, drugged the cats, and made the giant leap of faith that all cross country moves require, especially in the middle of a gas crisis.

Now that we're here, we appreciate the home that we left even more, we miss our families, and we miss our routine. We still wonder what our purpose is in the grand scheme of things and we're still searching for the meaning of life. But now we have a few adventures under our belt, and we have discovered that we both have talents and desires that were masked by our busy schedule at home. Ted has had more time to explore photography, and I have had ample time to think of new ways to address the injustices I see in the world and to write. Hiking and camping occupy a great deal of our free time, as does exploring the nearby city of San Francisco. But those are stories for another post.

Our most surprising observation to date is how quickly one can adapt to a new environment and feel at home. We've been here less than three months and already feel as though we've lived here for years. As travel writer Bill Bryson wrote, it is possible to explore new territory even in the place you have lived all your life. And, as the thru hikers of the American Disocvery Trail commented, it is possible to develop a routine even in the most adverse and trying conditions. Humans have an infinite capacity to adapt, accompanied by a desire to know more and explore more. Which means that we are rarely ever content. Perhaps, then, one of the secrets of happiness is to create adventure in the everyday, and to cultivate contentment through pursuing your true passions, no matter where you might live or travel. One of our recent thoughts is that the increasingly busy schedule of the average American is just a diversion to stop us from really pursuing spiritually or emotionally better lives that have nothing to do with consumption or careers. Our jobs, club memberships, and appointments often kept us from really reflecting on our lives and deciding how we could change our habits to benefit others. Thankfully, we are now able to take time to reflect and time to explore. But I think it's important to remember that the open road, though fascinating and wonderful, can still turn into another diversion, and even a routine. We hope to use this time to better ourselves and others.

But enough philosophizing for this post. Look for the next post about our time in Santa Fe, which promises more pictures and less philosophy!
By: Rebecca

Buena Vista Pass

Early morning sun illuminating Buena Vista Pass, above Buena Vista Lake. A surprisingly good shot considering Ted's hands were numb from the cold.