Mona is here visiting me here in Alameda, and her 'baby' Serena in San Francisco. It is a joy to have her nearby, and it will be sad to send her off to Wyoming again early Thursday morning.



Yesterday we went to the ocean at Point Reyes - Pat, me, Mona, Serena, and Cole driving another carload of their friends.

Patrick and I are always reluctant to venture out on a big outing, especially here in the Bay Area - and especially now with the stress of our jobs and our precarious living situation. At least in my case, I feel so insecure and ungrounded that I hesitate to part with the limited comfort I have been able to find here in the Alameda Point rental house. On the way and once we were there, though, it was fun to see how excited Mona was about visiting the ocean - even though the beaches in that area were all sandy - making the rock-picking a marginal exercise.

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The plans for the future continue to materialize and dissipate around different possible outcomes. It seems for now the best thing to do is not much of anything. My contract employment seems to be rolling toward an offer of a full-time 'permanent' salaried position. If I continue in that role, I will need to assimilate a lot of new technology information - something I have not been keen to do as I contemplated an exit from information technology altogether. Still, it is pleasing to be wanted and recognized for some ability, even if it is not in an area I find tremendous satisfaction in any more. What this means, of course, is that this is a great job for the ego but probably not so good for the genuine inner person.



Today painful memories of the house on Camden Ave. Intruded on my thoughts and weighed on my contentment a lot. A beautiful spring-like day, with fruit trees all in bloom drew out memories of the paradise of cherry, plum, peach, nectarine, apple, orange, and other citrus blossoms that would always perfume and sumptuously decorate the spring days there. For all my griping and resentment about the upkeep, I always fully appreciated the beauty and miracle of such riotous life as the cycles repeated over the seasons and years.

I went to work today to make up some hours taken off to enjoy with Mona, and working in the Sunday-unpopulated windowless fluorescent-lit cubicle warren on such a sunny and warm Spring preview day seemed a metaphor for the trading away of the Camden nature preserve.

I know these cruel mental conditions are manufactured by a wayward mind, but at times I seem powerless to apply all the wonderful teachings I have been exposed to since our life routine disintegrated. Painful events are inevitable in every life, but obsessive thoughts of loss and a fearful future are artifacts of a struggle to enter the real world of detachment and equanimity, and give up purposeless attachments. At times I feel my friend who suggested psychiatric help was right about the failure of my 'self-help' efforts to right my turned-over apple cart of a life, but I really can't imagine what such a thing would accomplish. I already know what is happening, and probably have the answers close at hand. However, applying them is not as simple as understanding them intellectually. I will keep striving to move on, and not be weighed down by what has occurred before or may happen down the road.



Serena and her companion Cole have such bright and promising lives - I think this may be part of what threw me off balance today and since we returned from the outing yesterday. They live in a charming and simple apartment in a lovely neighborhood of San Francisco, surrounded by gracious homes and wholesome shops. She is going to magnificent UC Berkeley, getting a Masters in city planning that will enable her to do meaningful work that betters the lives of whole societies. Cole is an engineer with an architectural firm that seems focused on sane humanistic design and benign coexistence with nature and conservation of resources.

This I have allowed to contrast with our situation, where we are unable to find meaning or fulfillment with our work, and have a hard time conceiving of any alternative other than fleeing the country for a lower cost of living and no work at all. I know there is was and is more to the appeal of Mexico than that, but for today is just seems like a desperate measure, and a risky one at that. As harsh as today's reality seems at times, I sometimes fear that we would find ourselves there, wishing it was only a vacation trip that could end soon, and wishing we had a home like Camden Ave. - or even Alameda Point - to return to.

-Stan

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