March 4, 2016 - Daily Notes
There is a big windstorm on Orcas Island tonight. It arrived with me at midday, a fitting metaphor. I watched a crow fly sideways past the iconic red-paint "ORCAS" letters on ferry terminal building and I wondered, "what does it mean?"
I don't know. It is a small thing, a lone black bird facing a strong wind. It is also significant. Everything here is.
Rain pelts my window and the candle I carried from home flickers softly. A flashlight the innkeepers brought stands ready, "In case the power goes out," they said. I forgot my coat at home, but remembered tea lights and the glass candleholder. Small, significant.
I came here to move slowly for a few days and to listen. It's harder to do than we think, you know? Slowing down, tuning inward, I mean. When was the last time you heard your own heartbeat? Soft, powerful. Small, significant.
Darvill's Bookstore here on Orcas Island has the most beautiful view of any bookstore I've ever seen. Better than Shakespeare & Company with its view of Notre Dame. That gorgeous cathedral cannot compare to the majesty of nature here. These islands with their cedars rise up from the waters of the sea like tiny emerald jewels in a pave globe of the world. Small, significant.
I ducked into Darvill's to escape the windstorm and buy coffee at their espresso bar. They serve Batdorf & Bronson, which I'm sure if you're a hipster means something cool, but to the synapses in my brain all that matters is the last time I was here the coffee was so good I've dreamed about it ever since. Small, significant.
I met the owner of the bookstore and showed her Lucia. She was warm. She said, "I heard you were coming." You did? "Yes, a friend told me, I can't remember who...anyway, someone told me you were coming this weekend." She opened Lucia and read a page in the middle. She picked up her phone and called her distributor while I stood there. She placed a standing order for Lucia. Three copies to begin. Just like that. Small, significant.
Tomorrow, I get to attend the TEDx Orcas Island conference. The theme is "Best of Both Worlds : The Potential in Polarity." I look forward to hearing new ideas, meeting people, and gifting my brain with the opportunity to grow a little more for my forty-first birthday.
Like a crow flying sideways in a windstorm, I am not sure exactly why I am here or where I am going. But my wings are spread wide and I'm flying. Small, significant.