Hello, Goodbye

“Good morning!” the young man said to me as I rubbed my eyes and made my way around Paddington Station. He obviously worked there. I was caught off guard by his warm greeting. I was also slightly embarrassed. I must have looked quite sleepy.

I had just returned from five days in the English countryside, walking 8 to 9 miles every day. Readjusting to the frenetic energy of London, especially the day after the horrific terrorist attack on London Bridge, was difficult and jarring. I had barely scratched the surface of this mysterious city and already I was going home.

***

Trying to go to sleep, I kept hearing the birds chirping. But I couldn’t tell if they were actually chirping or if it was only in my mind. I had heard the birds - so many of them - chirping all day, every day on my walks throughout South West Devon. I suspected they had made an impression on me. Or, there were just a hell of a lot of birds chirping in the middle of the night for no reason at all.

Despite being physically exhausted every evening, walking extensively each day activated my mind and I found it difficult to fall asleep. There was so much to take in, on top of navigating the trails and roads so that I didn’t get too lost. Out in the open, the air was filled with the smell of wet hay and cow pastures. In the woods, wild garlic intermingled with the sweet fragrance of unknown flowers. My boots got caked in mud and sand. Stinging nettle taunted me on almost every foot path and though I did my best to avoid it, I ended up getting stung anyway while pressing myself up against a tall hedge to let a car pass.

I went from village to village but most of my time was spent out in the elements on my own. I had a lot of time to think. Questions kept popping up in my mind. Do I spend too much time alone? Do other women do stuff like this? I felt privileged to be able to do all of this exploring. I did feel lonely at times. Who wouldn’t? But I loved navigating alone. It felt very rewarding. There are some advantages to being a single woman alone. People are generally not threatened by you and they are more trusting. They also seem to enjoy helping.

***

In my London hotel room I had to force myself to turn the tv off. Watching the news was not helping. I walked out onto the busy streets and made my way to Marcs & Spencer to buy tea and biscuits to take back home. There was a scuffle. Someone yelled. Someone was accused of stealing items from someone else’s basket. The cashiers were amazed. I walked outside and gave change to a young homeless woman. I gave away all of my change, to any homeless person I came across. I had dinner in a small cafe overlooking the canal in Little Venice and treated myself to a glass of Prosecco to honor my last day in England.

I walked and walked until my eyes could no longer withstand the dust being blown into them on each corner. On the way back to the hotel, I walked by the famous Abbey Road Studios and came across the words, “All you need is love” scribbled on the wall and I felt strange. I walked by a large sign lit up to warn drivers that London Bridge was closed off. I noticed a post office and remembered that I wanted to send some postcards.

Finally seeing the hotel in front of me, I thought about going home the next day. My mind lingered on the word home.

***

I booked this trip to England as a birthday present to myself. I figured turning 40 merited a short overseas adventure. Something I haven’t done in years. The surprise and pain of the terrorist attack shook me. It wasn’t how I imagined my trip to England ending. The subsequent resilience I witnessed in London, though, filled me with awe and respect. If there were anything I could possibly contribute to America right now, it I wish it could be that.

(What I'm listening to right now: The Beatles - Hello, Goodbye, because, yes. Soundtrack of my childhood right here people!)

Muddy Boots

I almost always leave Green Gulch Farm with a tug in my heart. As I make my way out and up the long dirt road to Highway 1 the usual thought arises: I don’t want to leave.

I’m reluctant to get too sentimental about Green Gulch, though. After all, I don’t live there. I am keenly aware that living there and visiting are two vastly different experiences. Green Gulch is an intentional community. I’ve been living on my own for the past ten years with my lovely little cat and my own washer and dryer (seriously, having my own washer and dryer is just…a blessing. I do not take this lightly.).

In trying to explain my affinity for the place, I recently told a friend of mine that the land there speaks to me. I was kind of embarrassed to admit this. Even saying it out loud felt strange. But it’s true, despite my not really understanding it. When I step onto the pedestrian path and begin my descent into the heart of Green Gulch, the eucalyptus trees, the flowers, the redwoods, all the little grasses and the insects and the birds and the wind, rise up to greet me with an unspoken language. It is a silent expression of welcoming and belonging that I still can’t quite bring myself to fully believe, though I feel it overwhelmingly each time I’m there.

On my way into San Francisco recently, I found myself standing on MUNI, looking down at other people’s shoes. They were nice. I mean, they were spotless and expertly coordinated with their outfits and everything. And then I looked down at my own shoes: heel-worn, black booties still caked with dirt and mud from traipsing around Green Gulch almost every weekend. At first I felt a flush of embarrassment. Why oh why hadn’t I made time to clean my shoes?? But then, I thought, no, this is perfect. This is my life right now. I’ll take it.

(What I'm listening to: Alicia Keys - The Gospel.)
(What I'm reading: The Nature Fix by Florence Williams. Highly recommend!)

When I go running

“Hello. You’re a pretty lady! You should be careful walking out here all by yourself. Someone might want to kidnap you,” he said as he rode past me on his bicycle.

My first thought was, “What the fuck?”

My second thought was, “I need to write about this.”

I’m very particular about when and where I go running. I never go running at night. When I see a group of men ahead of me on the trail hanging out, I don’t walk, I run or jog past them. I often wear sunglasses and though I actually like to look people in the eye, I make an extra effort not to do this when I’m out, in order to avoid any misinterpretation of my intentions.

I do all of this. On a trail where I feel “safe.” To have some asshole tell me to be careful is laughable and infuriating. As if, despite all the things I already do to protect myself, I would be to blame should someone decide to “kidnap me.”

Running and walking and being outside are when I feel the most free. When I’m out for a run, it’s not uncommon for me to breathe a sigh of relief as I enjoy the wind and the sun on my face. Being by the water, smiling at people’s dogs and dodging little children playing on the trail are all part of the experience of running (and walking) that I find so enjoyable.

Which is why this man’s comment stunned me. And then angered me.

For most women, this kind of situation is shocking but not surprising. I would argue that most women live with and tolerate some kind of violence on a daily basis. At the very least, women live with and are aware of the potential for violence towards their bodies every single day, even if they haven’t consciously acknowledged it. And most women are keenly aware of the harm that could come to them at any moment, even while carrying out the most mundane activities like putting groceries in their car or simply waiting at a bus stop.

So, what to do? Get back into martial arts? Adopt a large dog? Start carrying mace? Run down the street and wave my hands in the air like a crazy person?

Those things might be appropriate, but what I really want to do is educate and make people, especially men, aware of women’s experiences. But not even just aware, I am asking for men (and the women who choose to remain in denial) to really listen to women when they say they feel harassed or when they say they feel unsafe or when they confess that they’ve been abused or assaulted.

Listen to them. Believe them. Because, WOMEN ARE NOT MAKING THIS SHIT UP.

I do not plan on stopping running anytime soon. I’ll be damned if some man’s comment is going to stop me from doing what I love, in a public space where I have every right to be and feel safe.

Things do not have to be this way. Let’s change this.

(What I'm listening to right now: Work by Charlotte Day Wilson)