essays by shé

Tag: art

  • Habibi

    Beginning at the Berkeley marina, I drive south for days, seeking out sailboats and surfing when I can: Santa Cruz, Morro Bay, Santa Barbara, Oxnard, Long Beach, Newport, Dana Point, Oceanside, San Diego. Cross the border into México and check out San Felipe, Bahía Tortugas, Santa Rosalia. Spend an afternoon and night at Playa El…

  • Grace

    There are moments of grace and beauty. Blowing bubbles with Antonella was one of them. Let me set the scene: a church group sings nearby of peace and love and liberty; the sun is setting big and orange and low; for the first time in México, the tiny house is unhitched and plugged in; and…

  • Round & Round

    Sometimes I get frustrated with my indirect, repetitive routes. Up and down California, before I can retrieve the tiny house. Roundabout Oregon before deciding not to live there. Across the country to save my mother, who didn’t want to be saved. Up and down Baja wondering what I’m doing with my life. All this traveling…

  • Stung

    Knee deep in the La Jolla Pacific, I feel a gentle slice on top of the second toe on my left foot. So gentle in fact that I’m surprised to see blood. Hunh. Wading out to get a better look, a half inch cut bleeds copiously. Foot above heart to slow the flow, I rest…

  • Napping Near the Military

    Returning to the States to sign documents, I pulled off the highway to rest, engaging four-wheel-drive. The great thing about México is that you can follow a dirt road as the whim strikes. Many times they lead to interesting places. Sometimes not. I was tired and anxious, and found a spot behind some boulders and…

  • Jiggity-Jig

    Home again, home again, tiny house in tow, see how she flies! It’s been almost three and a half years since I inhabited my T@B travel trailer, and boy, did I miss her! So cheerful, so easy-going, so functional and fun. No more leaky tent. No more cramped back seat, feet hanging out the window.…

  • PLN

    Terry Pratchett wrote a series of books about a young witch befriended by a clan of Nac Mac Feegle, strong folk averaging six inches in height. During one adventure, she asks Rob, the Big Man of the clan, if he has a plan. “Oh aye,” he says proudly, and pulls out a scrap of paper…

  • La Bolsa Roja

    Cabo Pulmo is known as a primo snorkel spot, so early one morning I drove over and set out down the beach. I found a sandy spot to enter and donned my gear, putting land clothes in a brilliant red drawstring knapsack up on a dune. The bay was murky and cool. Every so often…

  • Tolerance

    A not-so-kindly sailor answered my ad for a sailing instructor. His second email was patronizing and disrespectful (if that’s not redundant), which shocked me. I’m always shocked by contempt. It takes awhile to believe it, and then to remember that their behavior has nothing to do with me. It is learned. My mother’s brother once…

  • False Urgency

    “Beware of false urgency,” warned my bank in a scam alert. An excellent reminder. Is it really necessary to visit five stores for six items, three of which I don’t need right now? I strive for efficiency while wearing myself out. What’s the priority? And when does fun come into play, let alone rest? Coolant…