orbis perfectus

We have arrived in Berkeley – not quite the terminus of our westward foray – we will be moving on to Chico soon – but we did make it over the great mountains. Magnolia chugged up and over as sure motored as she cruised the open deserts. It wasn’t all driving. We made time to explore the high deserts and narrow canyons, return to a favorite used bookstore, cook food, sleep, even to dream, AND complete a circle.


Three years ago in February while crossing the continent, we found our way to Tecopa hot springs on the California Nevada border. Since it was the feast of Bridgid, the traditional time for recommitting to one’s life on the pagan calendar, we lowered ourselves into a glorious hot pool of healing waters, and as the sun rose in the east, re-membered ourselves. Three years ago we were neophyte nomads, excited by possibility, inspired by freedom, sobered and a maybe a little tried by the layers of choices required in a single day of freedom. In that gray light, our bodies submersed in the steaming waters, we committed ourselves to something we called “being available.” To what? It was a somewhat naive dedication, I think. While the vision allowed that we were open, even eager for inevitable change, just what shape this would take remained blissfully vague and quite rosy, in our dedication to Bridgid that day. Now you and we know the story that really began that day. While it is true that the beginning of a story is somewhat arbitrary – at least the real lived stories of our lives, so the ending is equally arbitrary. Sitting in that same pool 20 months later, our ritual was one of Gratitude, and that circle begun in a simple re-dedication ritual had found its completion now. Orbis perfectus.

When you pay attention, when you have the time to notice, circles are being completed all the time. Sometimes I can feel a neat click as it closes – orbis perfectus- that you may not feel when one is begun. Yet with practice, I think it is possible. So lately I have been mumbling those words when one is completed – like returning to the intersection where a loop trail starts, orbis perfectus. Or seeing an outcrop of rocks that we passed years ago in the Mojave Desert while looking for a camping spot for the night. That place would have been perfect, but alas, someone else was already there. Yet that exact place took on a certain life whenever I thought of crossing the Mojave again. I could SEE Magnolia parked there, I could SEE the sun rising behind her whenever we considered driving her west. And we did find ourselves there, not camping for the night, but for a lunch break, and the feeling of completing the circle was there. Orbis perfectus.