Between One Life and The Next

                                                 Green Valley Lake, California


  The Skipper and I left Espiritu in Green Cove Springs, Florida and flew west to SoCal.

       Home.

       We've spent the last few days gratefully hugging on friends and family and getting plugged back in at our cabin in Green Valley Lake. We've also been worrying about Espiritu, and hoping that all is well with her. She deserves a good long rest. She's earned it.

       There's a spiritual tradition of a "threshold space," which is a place or time that is a beginning, or an end, or the threshold between the two.

     These were also called "thin times" by the ancient Celts, because in their tradition the veil between this world and the next were thinnest at this time, and therefore more visible, more accessible.

      On these days, one was invited to become aware of "deep time" -- past, present and future gathered together in one sacred moment. It is during these times, when the future is not clear and we're maybe even a bit lost, that greater truths and realities can be revealed.

    Chris and I don't know what our long terms plans will be. We don't know if we will sail Espiritu again (we might!), or if we'll sell her (she is listed, so we may) or if we'll need to get jobs, etc.

    All we know for sure is that we're between there and here.

    Sailors know about the phenomenon of "land sickness." It's a literal dizziness and disorientation we experience when we finally plant our feet on solid ground after a long period at sea.

   We're land-sick. We're so happy to be here, yet we miss the sea, and our sailing family, and the hundreds of new friends we've made in the past year and a half sailing.

We don't know for sure what's next. But for now, we're here in a beautiful little mountain hamlet
 called Green Valley Lake.

What a wonderful place to be during this "thin time." We will keep our eyes open. The path will become clear.