Tuesday, June 28, 2011

The Synchronicity of San Diego

This is a tale of two visits to San Diego. Before this latest weekend at San Diego, I last put on my traveling shoes, packed myself and the dog up to go to San Diego the weekend before I was laid-off. I remember it as one of the most relaxing weekends I had had in a long time. I only went to the beach once and that was to go down to Ocean Beach's Azucar to get a Cuban coffee con leche. The rest of the weekend was spent outside in my sister's backyard, reading, resting, watching the two dogs (my dog and his cousin) tear up and down the lawn. I was carefree. I was laughing. I was weightless.

I was reading the Jo Nesbo Harry Hole series. I was finishing The Devil's Star. Or rather The Devil's Star was finishing me. I know we all use the time-worn cliche "I couldn't put it down", but the truth was, I truly couldn't put it down. Because I had the luxury to not to do so. I had the luxury of sitting outside, reading, drinking ice cold water with fresh lemons from the tree. I didn't have to put the book down. I didn't have to bring myself back to the world of deadlines and meetings and e-mails to answer. I had taken the weekend off, I had given myself the weekend off.

The week before, I successfully opened a second location at work. This involved having the location pass the state license inspection, beefing up the staffing needed to run the location, ordering new equipment, getting the phones and computers up and running. I even came back early from my Kauai and Zion vacation in case state came by unannounced. I had put in alot of overtime, alot of missed family time; this was the first weekend in over 4 months that I had been out to see my sister. I had felt now that the second location was open, everything was in place, all looked good, I could afford to give myself the time to relax. And what better place to do it than San Diego.

On Sunday night, when my brother-in-law suggested going to our favorite local Japanese restaurant for dinner, I couldn't resist. Normally I leave early so I don't drive the mountain roads in the dark. But that weekend I couldn't tear myself away. I didn't hit the road until after 9pm. I didn't really care. I had a restorative weekend and that was what counted the most.

I had no idea what was in store for me the next day, Black Monday, the day I was laid off.

This latest weekend was so different. I felt like I was escaping, a running from. I did not feel the same sense of carefree-ness, even though I had less cares and demands on my time than I had at anytime before. I was weighted down by freedom. I was carrying the burden of what's next. Of What did I do wrong?. Even though I know that it was not my fault, the weight was still heavy around me.

As I look back at that other weekend just three weeks ago, at the dogs running around the yard at my sister's, I remember feeling that same sense of giddiness the dogs must have felt. Running just because it's fun to run. Now, I feel like I'm running with scissors. And I'm going to trip at any time.

© pranaknits


  1. Freedom does have a weight. It also has a weightlessness. Being on "sabbatical" you are in a limbo of decisions. A fork in the road and all the paths are lost in fog.

    Follow your heart. It knows the path to take. Both are hard, but one at least guides your heart.

    Remember, you have the calm.

  2. Thank you. I feel like I am weighing decisions-- and the weight of those decisions are constantly in flux. The heart knows what the mind has not yet dreamed of, thank you for reminding me.