Everyone seems to go on a quest at some point in their life to answer the same questions. Who am I? Why am I here? What is my purpose? Where do I belong?
My extended journey to answer these questions eventually led me to the south end of Whidbey Island. What I found here was what was waiting for me. What someone else finds here is not for me to say. My journey led me to a book I had dreamed about and a sense of finding home and community of like-minded individuals. There is an awesome community of spiritual women in this place.
I also found many gray days and bone chilling cold at certain times during the winter. And loneliness. It takes time to make friends when you move to a new place by yourself. It wasn’t a big issue when I thought I was only going to be here for one year, but it became one when I decided to stay.
Nature has always been important to me, which is an oddity if you are born in Los Angeles. I was horse crazy before I could walk, and that love affair is still an intrinsic part of my being. An ideal vacation was camping in Sequoia and Yosemite or digging in the dirt and planting things. Neither of my children took to horses, although my daughter was a great rider at a very early age. The camping stuck with both my son and daughter and we spent many summers by the river in Sequoia, enjoying nature and hiking.
In 2006, I was preparing to take a year off from the film industry. I was just burned out. Upon returning from the Whidbey Island’s Writer’s Conference in March of 2006, I gave serious thought to spending my year off here. All of the other possibilities just seemed to fade away. Flying back to Whidbey over Memorial Day Weekend of 2006, I asked for a clear sign if I was to rent a house here since it was much farther away from L.A. than I had been contemplating. I didn’t want to be that far away from my grandchildren, but it was only for a year, right?
After looking at several rentals on Saturday, we had four to go on Sunday. A local rental agent was showing me around. I found the pockets of the island we investigated beautiful, but nothing was zinging me. Then we got to house #2 on Sunday morning. We turned up a dirt lane that was a dead end. As we curved up the driveway to a small house tucked into the woods, a blast of energy hit me in the chest and knocked me back into the seat. My two cousins were with me, and the real estate agent. I didn’t say a word, but knew. As we walked in the back door, which is the front door, (very confusing bagua) I stepped into the kitchen and realized there was a view of the ocean. Instantly I saw my desk in front of the windows looking out over the water. I turned to the agent and said, “This is it.” And it was done.
Some things I don’t have an answer for. Where did the energy come from that hit me in the chest? I don’t know. Why did I feel the pull to come to Whidbey Island for the Conference when it was mentioned to me? I don’t know that either. What I did do was listen and pay attention. I now believe that it had to be this house, in this place, because this story was waiting for me to come and claim it. As if it was to be found in the soil and the trees and the wildlife. My future was calling, even if I hadn’t figured that out yet. One thing I know is that I would never have found this story in Los Angeles.
So, on a cool Sunday morning in May of 2006 I found my future. Of course I didn’t know that then. That’s part of the fun, though, isn’t it?