September 10, 2009

• Homer

  I got back from my trip last night, late.  Two days in Homer, Alaska and two days in Seattle.  I’d never been to Alaska and was mesmerized by its beauty.  Homer was no place I’d even heard of but my sort of sister-in-law (they’re not married), chose the place for my Saturn return based on its proximity to the equator and the way the planets lined up there on Sept 5th. 

  As it happened, there was a full moon.  Which I guess was good timing as the ”North Node” has everything to do with the location of the moon.  What she hadn’t realized when she chose Homer was how key the North Node was to my chart.  I hardly know what she is talking about but I gather it couldn’t have been more auspicious for my next 28 years.

  I’m driving through wilderness, past my first moose, some 4 1/2 hours, two of them dark.  The moon shows me the way.  I drive clear out to the end of Homer Spit and park in front of an art gallery, taking the stairs around back, up to a long deck.  Directly below me water laps up on shore.  I find a note taped to the door of the apartment at the far end, addressed to me.  My half of the deck enjoys the only second story view as far south as I can see and I can’t see anybody from the north, so I have the place to myself. 

  I set my bags down and take in the night air.  Gazing out over the bay, it looks like a picture framed in rock.  Gargantuan, prehistoric looking bolders rise up out of this quiet water, the whole scene lit up by Mr Moon.  He’s smiling down on me and I feel like it’s just the two of us here in this private paradise.  I let myself in through the sliding glass door and find the key on the kitchen table.  It is quaint and clean but nothing special.  What’s special is outside. 

  I leave the window open so the first thing I hear Saturday morning is the rhythm of the tide.  It reminds me to pay attention to my own rhythm, my breath.  I get dressed and venture back down the stairs, surprised to find myself in the midst of a bustling little tourist town.  Cute, colorful shops line a boardwalk that stretches the whole length of the spit.  Everyone is on foot in fishing boots, just off or getting on a boat.  The coffee shop was across the street and the line long so I heard all their news.

  That’s where I learned about Halibut Cove.  I made the voyage over that afternoon.  It’s only accessible by boat; no cars allowed.  They have a five-star restaurant along with two galleries and a hike that takes you through the village of artists, up through the meadow, past the horses to the top of the ridge where you have a 360 degree view of million-dollar cabins already vacated for the summer.

  I made friends with a woman and her mother and after the hike we ate dinner together.  Later, as the boat was pulling out to go back, the moon crept out from behind these two massive rocks.  I am standing in the back, along with two lovebirds who have an impressive looking camera.  She squeals when she spots the moon rising and the rest of the boat takes notice.  Seriously, I’ve never seen a moon look like that, like it was solid gold.  All the way back we are transfixed.

  I walk the two blocks back to my deck and watch the moon some more, saying my thanks and sending my love, so appreciative for the sunny day and the beautiful bay.  What I was to do in Homer was focus on being grounded and calm, with the intention of manifesting the kind of peace and happiness I want to live in the next 28 years.  I sat with that peace ’til the stars came out. 

  What I found out the next day was that my mother passed while I was sitting on the deck, the very night of my Saturn return.  

  • 12:32 am
  • 7 Comments