Sunset Solace

The entire world has changed in the blink of an eye, and it's a lot. I've been writing stories from Minneapolis, Minnesota under the "Clogtown" name to differentiate from "Blogtown" which has always been about Venice, California. If the global coronavirus has done anything, it has shown us that we are indeed a global village, and borders don't matter at all. We are one. So, from hereon out, Blogtown is for everyone, everywhere. I was feeling really upset yesterday, so took off to the place that has always brought me solace, Wood Lake Nature Center (outside walks are still o.k. so far).

This whole thing might be a true blessing in disguise, as I've never heard more noise from the wildlife in this nature preserve in my life. The planet seems to be slowly healing itself ... from the clear waters in the Venice (Italy) Canals, to the clear skies over China, to the millions of cars being off the road ... this pandemic might just end up buying us some more time on our Mother Earth.

I've been really sad for a while ... missing my Venice life (all of which is literally and figuratively locked up in really expensive storage at 4th and Rose - not sure what to do about that) so much, and really questioning my decision to be in Minnesota to help care for my beloved Mom. But not anymore. This is one of those prime examples of "Things happen for a reason." If all of this was going on and I was in California and my Mom was stuck in an assisted living facility here with no visitors, it would have torn me up forever. Instead, I busted her out just in the nick of time, and we are having massive amounts of quality time like never before. I've been gone for 25 years, and now we're more than making up for lost time, and she's beyond thrilled to be in her own home, eating good food, and doing whatever she wants, when she wants. I now know for sure that I made the right decision to be here for her now.

This was all being thought about while I was on my walk last night as the sun set over the super calm water. The geese were not super calm, however. I saw a lot of family dynamics going on, with fights and courting and feeding and ... kind of the same stuff we're all doing now. I felt like Snow White as I walked through the park, with birds flying right up to me, totally unafraid. Nature heals.

The brand new floating bridge is done (though I don't think we're supposed to be on it yet - sorry!), and beautiful and made from real wood (not that fakey plastic stuff) that you could smell had been freshly cut. The birds were making a huge racket, so much so that my brother, Paul (in CA), could hear them through the phone as we were talking. Rather distracting, but most welcome, as you could tangibly see the nature thriving.

It was starting to get dark, but I couldn't bring myself to leave. There were very few other people there, so it was super peaceful and calming to my soul. The rare times that I passed someone, we would wave and give one another a wide berth - the only sad part about it. Huge turkeys were digging around for food, and flying up to the tree tops in a seemingly impossible flight of fancy. I looked out over the expanse of the reeds and water, and felt nothing but grateful, really.

My quarantine experience in Minnesota so far has been very civilized. There have never been anything but normal lines in stores, there are stories of people helping people everywhere, and never has Minnesota Nice been more on display. There is a cultural thing here where no one will ever take the last one of anything, and that has held true at the grocery stores too. You'll see one apple left in the bin, one loaf of bread on the shelf, and today, one roll of toilet paper left at the Co-Op! No one can bring themselves to take what someone else might need or want more, and I love that about my hometown people. Thoughtfulness and caring are in abundance, even in normal times, but especially now - and this again affirms my belief that I was meant to be here now. (And yeah, I left that last roll too, even though that's the one thing you can't ever find!)

That niceness can also be seen in the Little Free Libraries that have bee turned into Little Free Pantries, along with books (Wood Lake's little library was full of juice boxes). It was starting to get dark, and I still had a long walk home, so I reluctantly headed down the path toward the entrance, though tearing my eyes and ears away from all of the beauty was difficult. I headed down one path, when there in the knot in  a tree was hidden a little painted rock saying, "You Are Wonderful!" What a day maker! Especially as I've done this exact fun little thing with my great pal, Beckett, back in Venice (maybe you've found one?). I DID take this (to show Beckett!), but I will pass it along myself, putting it in an unexpected place that will make someone else's day. Thanks, #WLKindness folks!

It was dark as I got close to home, and the street was now full of chalk messages, most likely created by bored neighborhood kids. Stay Healthy! Have A Great Day! Happy Spring! I mean, how are you not going to smile at that? The quarantine nightmare actually seems to be bringing out the best in people! Dropping off food for the elderly, little surprises left on your doorstep (thanks for the blueberry scones, Nelson Girls!), and countless lovely gestures are happening all around us every day.

When I got home, I saw that my Mom's next door neighbors had re-lit their Christmas lights on their house, and it cheered up the block so much, I almost think everyone should do it again ... or maybe in Easter colors! Whatever it takes to cheer people up, I'm all in. And on that note, we should ALL be all IN. PLEASE stay home as much as you can. We all know it sucks, but we all want it to be over, and that's not going to happen if you keep hanging out and going about your business as usual. It is going to get worse before it gets better, and it's up to all of us to put a stop to this menace. If we can all focus on the silver linings and the many blessings in disguise of it, it really won't be all that bad.

The homemade chicken soup was smelling great when I walked in the door (straight to the sink to scrub hands), and I felt so much better about everything than when I had walked out the door. I want you all to know that I love and miss you so much. That we're all going to get through this, and GROW while we're at it - if we can be smart and recognize that we truly are all in this giant world together - and this virus, if nothing else, has shown us that.

ONE LOVE! ONE HEART! I sure hope I see you far sooner than later. The hugs are going to be spectacular.

Clogtown - The Salt Cave Minneapolis

Well ... if you don't follow me on social media, you may not know what my family is going through. A very long story short, my adored and revered Mother had to have her leg amputated below the knee last Friday. I am back in Minnesota to help and to advocate - and to cry and hold hands a lot. I don't know how I can possibly leave this warrior woman until I know she will be in good hands and is solid, so in the meantime, I'm going to share some stories from what I'm calling Clogtown - The Twin Cities. In all of this ordeal, I have maybe never felt more stressed out. I never planned to be here so long, so there is work to think about, my mother's health, her home, where she'll go next ... all of it. I've driven by The Salt Cave Minneapolis for a few years, and wondered about it. I looked it up and one of the things it claims to help is stress, so yesterday I found myself taking a break from the hospital and headed to The Salt Cave.

A little storefront on Nicollet Avenue doesn't really look like much, but once you are led downstairs into the salt cave, it's pretty cool. One room that is bathed in a rose quartz-ish light and lined with lawn type chairs, and the floor is covered with so much salt it's like having your bare feet in sand.

This beach vibe is enhanced by a soundtrack of crashing waves, and the attendant told me to sit in the chair closest to this vent for the best salt experience - but that I would get salty. I sat down and tried to just breathe and focus the breaths along with the ebbing and flowing waves on the sound system. I'm a terrible meditation person, because my mind immediately races to ten thousand places - especially now. Focusing my breathing to the waves did help a bit, but I still found myself going over what calls and emails I need to make, and all that jazz. 

I was alone until an older gentleman came in and sat a few chairs down. We paid no attention to each other, and after a while I forgot he was there. I felt tingly a couple times, and also nearly nodded off another couple of times. It was supremely relaxing (as opposed to the Dragon City Acupuncture at Southdale cacophony I endured for a chair massage. I don't know how a place meant to relax and de-stress can stay in business across from Dave & Buster's!), and when I briefly opened my eyes, I saw that my clothes and body was entirely covered with salt, as if I'd fallen asleep outside in a light snowfall. I was told that it works via your breathing, but the Himalayan pink salt also goes in through your pores. I was covered an inch deep, so I should be real good.

After the 45 minutes session ($30) was over, the lights gently get brighter and you start dusting off the salt. While doing so, I realized that the tension I had felt at the base of my skull was no longer there. The slight headache I'd had between my eyes was also absent. I felt as if I had just woken up from an intense nap, though I never fell asleep. The only physical thing I could really complain about after was that I was extra thirsty - makes sense. I asked the man who was in there with me how it was working for him, as I'd been told he comes every week, and we had waited for him to start. I'd still be there listening to him (and I was fine with it) if the attendant hadn't come downstairs to say she had to close up, but he was EFFUSIVE in how much it had helped him. He had a rare lung thing that he went to the Mayo Clinic for, and after regular sessions at The Salt Cave, he'd been told at his follow up visit that the thing was gone and that his lung capacity had actually increased! I believe.

There are several afflictions the salt sessions help with, from asthma to allergies to skin problems, but even if you just need a break from some real harsh reality, like me, The Salt Cave really can help you. My spirits, attitude, tension, and stress had all been somewhat lifted, even if for just 45 minutes. The invisible part, like salt in your pores, must help too, because I feel physically fantastic today. Hey ... whatever helps in times like these! They also offer yoga classes in there, and gong and sound bath things, and you can arrange to get a chair massage while sitting in your session - next time for sure. I like that Minneapolis is into groovy things like this, and realized once again that you can find your Venice anywhere, as it's inside of you. But Venice could use a Salt Cave too! Check it out ... you'll be better for it.

And Have a HAPPY 4th, Everyone - from sea to shining sea and every lake and river in between!

The Salt Cave
4811 Nicollet Avenue South
Minneapolis, MN 55419
#612-567-2587
Saltcaveminnesota.com

After The Rain ...

Los Angeles is finally FINALLY getting some so badly needed rain, and it's great. People don't really know how to handle it that well, but I think we can all agree it's great. It's even kind of great when you're sick, because it makes you feel like you're really not missing anything out there. Except you are. Look at the beauty captured by my brilliant friend, Mike Ozier!

Pouring rainy day ... but with light at the end of it. Like I was feeling extra sick ... but now am starting to feel better. And just when I was feeling like a corner has been turned with my health, my brother Paul texted me a photo of a massive double rainbow. A sign!

It's all going to be fine. Sometimes we just need reminders to slow down. To look at the bigger picture. To value what we have when we have it ... our health, and our sunshine. And that we can all be rainbows.

Love, your hippie friend CJ


*Pier photo by Michael Ozier
*Rainbow photo by Paul Gronner Photography