Swiped Bike...and the Good that Came From It

I'm back in Los Angeles, where the flowers are brighter, the breezes are softer, and the skies are bluer. It's been so lovely to reconnect with my home away from home and, more importantly, the people in it. Yet, one of the sweetest reunions yet, was the one with my good ol' bike, Trusty, my silver, sleek Trek hybrid that has been patiently awaiting my return.  She stays in LA, and that way, I have no need to rent a car while here.  She's my one and only - we met while filming CarLess in LA -- and she's been my faithful ride ever since.

Until yesterday.

I strolled up to my friend Cristina's house, outside of which I had locked her to a street sign, to see that she was not there.

"Cristina!" I hollered.  She came bounding out of the house (windows are open in LA).

"What is it, honey?"

"My bike got stolen."

"Oh nooo!"

I laid on the grass.  I yelled at myself at how stupid I was (the lock I borrowed was not the soundest).  Why didn't I put her inside the gate?  Why didn't I use a better lock?  Why did this happen!?

I had a breakfast date in Santa Monica, and my day was planned around a lovely beach/bike path ride to get there.

"Katie, are you sure you want to lay on the grass right there?  There are a lot of dogs in this neighborhood."

She wasn't quite understanding my pain.  What was dog tee-tee when my bike had been swiped!

"Cristina.  I need a minute.  Go inside."

Seeing my distressed, she obeyed.

"Dammit," I thought and said out loud to myself while laying on the grass.  "Dammit!"

I made myself get up.  I dusted myself off.  I went inside, and I asked for some fingernail polish remover.  Cristina's roommate, Lauren appeared (a fellow Southerner) and they both expressed their sentiments for my loss then chattered on about something else.

As I wiped off my mermaid green nail polish, it dawned on me that only ten minutes prior, on my walk over to Cristina's house, I was so happy, and how I was looking forward to a good day, how life can just be swell sometimes...only to turn the corner and to find my bike gone, gone, gone.

Then I thought, "I'm not going to let this ruin my day.  I'm getting over this now.  There's nothing I can really do.  And Only Good Can Come From This Situation."

Now this is a favorite mantra of mine:  OGCCFTS.  I learned it back in the day, I think from a little book called the Game of Life by a woman named Florence Scovel Shinn.  It's a good one to say to yourself when things are looking bleak.  And in my experience, it almost has a magical power.

This time turned out to be no exception.  Read on.

So, as I'm pondering this, Cristina and Lauren are gabbing on about some bike that their former roommate had left on the side of the house.  They said I could use it.  I'm imagining a nasty old thing, rusted to the rims, with no chain and no brakes, that would be a painfully slow ride to Santa Monica.

I sighed, "Maybe."  And I thought about how a person feels when their dog dies, and someone tries to offer them a new puppy the next day.

They went on: "Manny said that he didn't want that bike.  He said to just put it on the side of the street. I don't want it.  Cristina, do you want it?"

Cristina didn't want it.  Lauren didn't want it.  Manny didn't want it.

"Katie, do you want it?"

Why the hell would I want it? I thought.  But I kept my mouth shut and agreed to go look at it.

Turning the corner to the house, my expectations were low.  But then I saw, gleaming underneath a fine layer of dust, the word Trek.  It was a teal green Trek mountain bike.

"It's a Trek," I said, almost in disbelief.  (Why the heck were people passing this bike up?)

[Note:  I rode Trek bikes during my entire time filming CarLess in LA.  I started on a borrowed mountain bike, believe it or not, then bought the hybrid.  So I have a special affinity for Treks, even to the point where I thought about calling the film, Trekking Los Angeles (because that's what it felt like!)]

I checked the brakes.  They worked.  Cristina grabbed a cloth and we wiped it down.  Sure it had some rust, but this was a FAT bike.  Sure it was a men's bike, a bit too big.  And yes, the tires were a little flat, but we found a pump, and in a few minutes, I was good to go!

"I'll take it!"

The wonders of life!

Happy again, (but still a little stumped/shocked), I rode off on my new bike, which I quickly and appropriately named "Lucky."

I rode the bike path under a sunlit sky, and when I got to Santa Monica, at a certain crosswalk, I saw a familiar face approaching.

"Hey Conan," I said.  (Yes, it was Conan O'Brien, crossing the street, coming towards me.)

"Hey.  How are you?" he said.

"Good," I replied, and we went on our way.

Really good.

The rest of the day unfolded and I must say, it was nice to have my new green good luck charm with me.

Feng Shui your Love Life...Fast

Another success story!  And this is all it took:

A client called with a quick question.  (Yes, I do Quick Question consultations!)  She was ready to ramp up her love life.  I was already familiar with her home, and after some discussion, I gave her a few tips.  The above shot from her camera phone was the result....and it worked!!!

Here's her testimonial:
Katie can work her magic from afar! I asked her for 15 minutes of guidance about my love life and she led me through a quick exercise. One week later I met the most magnificent man. I would recommend her services to ANYONE.

...and here's to love!

Stranger than Fiction, CarLess - Blog, Day 51

Sifting through the blogs I wrote during the 80-day experiment being CarLess in LA, I found this one and wanted to share.  It's a fine memory.

Day 51 -- Locked

Day 50 was beautiful. I am so happy to have hit Day 50 and although it was a tiring day, it was the good kind of tired. Day 50 made me feel like I have accomplished something. Fifty days is a lot.

Now it's Day 51. I woke up spazzed out for no particular reason. Waking up spazzed out is not my favorite. I have so much to do today in terms of arranging interviews, researching for these interviews, making phone calls, managing my social life, and then answering some 50-plus unread emails, that all I could do was to get on my bike and ride to the beach. The beach always does me good and although I have a lot to do, it is manageable, because in the end, everything is manageable, right? Otherwise, we'd all shoot ourselves.

: "O! How intolerably human I sometimes am!" This was one of my godzillion thoughts while on the beach watching the slow waves and feeling the sand and trying to make all the thoughts go away. And then: I wish I was God.

So I was taking care of myself, giving myself a well-deserved break from all of this by going to the beach for a jog-walk, right? Preparing for the rest of my day...when on the way back, I realized that I was hungry. And when I get hungry, there is nothing else left to do but to eat because I have the attention-span and mood of a three-year-old when I haven't had enough food to sustain me. So I stopped at a favorite cafe to have breakfast, where the service was overly-friendly but gave me food so I forgave them.

The salmon scramble and Mexican spice mocha (decaf) did wonders for my mental health. I was ready to take on my day. I must add that it is a gorgeous day at that. Los Angeles specializes in those, especially after a good rain.

So now I'm happy right? I even had a chance to read the newspaper a bit. That is exceedly rare given my schedule and lifestyle, so what a luxury!

I go to unlock my brand new shiny silver bike. As I leave the cafe, I drop three $1 bills on the sidewalk. Bills like autumn leaves on the sidewalk. A young man sitting at an outdoor table said, "Ooops" before I could. Then he added, "That means money is coming to you." I took his word for it.

Then he watched me unlocking my bike. Which wasn't working. My key was not working. The lock would not unlock. Finally I looked up at him and said, "I can't get my bike unlocked." He told me to "Slow down and breathe." I tried that. It didn't work, so I asked him to try it. The lock, that is.

It is a scientific fact in the Book of Katie Rogers that men are better at some things than women. One of them is getting bike locks unlocked.

He tried it, and it still didn't work.

I began to laugh. Thank you, Life, for this brilliant opportunity to slow down and breathe. I told the non-knight that I appreciated his efforts and then walked to the bus stop. Ah-ha! A lock and key shop! The woman there said that she didn't specialize in bike keys, but there was another place that did about a half-block down. So I walked there. (Let me remind you of my attire by the way, simply to give you a visual of me strolling down Lincoln Blvd. laughing at myself, the situation, and then even talking to myself once to my own surprise. Pink sweatpants, purple shirt, poofy pink down ski vest, and cute little stocking hat, and black sunglasses.) The men at this shop said that I should go home and get the spare key and try that before they went to the extreme of sawing through the lock.

Back to Plan A. The bus. Beautiful day; I only had to wait about 4 minutes.

I really was/am surprisingly calm about all of this. I really should be working on all my work right now, but my blog mind had to express itself first.

I got on the bus. An elderly man got on at the next stop. He wore camel-colored cordoroys and a camel-colored jacket. He sat next to me, and I spoke to him. He seemed pleased and spoke back. Then he said, "It's so nice to talk to someone who isn't afraid of people." He had had a hard day because the bank was crowded. He said everywhere is crowded in Los Angeles. He got off at the stop before me.

Now I'm home. My bike is at the cafe. I think they didn't give me decaf mocha because caffeine makes me freaky and that's how I feel right now.

All I can say is that I have no control anymore. I don't even want control. I just want to go see that movie "Stranger Than Fiction" because I think the premise is hilarious and I wish that I had written it: The main character finds out that he is a character in a novel. Nothing more, nothing less. Aren't we all....

I just hope to make friends with the author who is writing my story. In some ways, I think I already have. But I still haven't figured out his or her or its sense of humor.

I wanted an adventure, and I'm getting one.

One Client's Feng Shui of Love, Before & After

A Los Angeles client, Laura, recently reached out with glowing reports!  If you question the power of feng shui, question no more.  The proof is the pictures...

Laura had called me for a long-distance mini-consultation -- one room with one goal -- to find L-O-V-E.  Not that she was sitting home on the weekends (or weeknights for that matter).  In fact, she admitted that she had dated over 60 men in the past couple of years!  Her concern was the quality of man that she was attracting, not the quantity.  She was ready to replace her player tendencies, grow up, and find "the one."

Because she shares an apartment, it was easy to hone in on her bedroom, for it's the one place that is all hers where we could go to town with the feng shui cures.

And boy, did we.  The feng shui no-no's were rampant!  Check out these photos she sent me.

where are the bedside tables? and eek, a mirrored closet

this closet could be arranged much better

computer in the bedroom - no!  desk at angle - no!

every item needs a home!

oy, clutter!

this bed could be way more inviting

When I received these photos, I took a deep breath.  You never know if a client is going to "hear" you or not, and frankly, this one was going to take some work.  As a feng shui consultant, I could easily see the issues in her love life from simple things, such as a computer in the bedroom and the lack of two side tables.  Not to mention the disorganization!

Once on the phone, she confirmed my suspicions that she doesn't sleep well at night.  We also discovered an interesting theme: there were little girl images tucked here and there.  These items were sending "Peter Pan" messages to her subconscious.  Hmmmm.

After a juicy chat, including the ins and outs of the types of guys she was dating, I gave her a list of cures not for the faint of heart.  I did not hold back.  She called me for life improvement, and I explained how by simply rearranging her home space, those improvements will come about!

Cut to:  Six or so weeks later.

SUCCESS!

Here's a combo of the few emails she sent:

Hi Katie,

I thought I should update you on what's happening on this end. I'm sure everything is connected, but I dropped all the bad guys and feng shui'd the crap out of my room. Now I have four major job offers, I quit smoking (now on week 3!!!) and have signed up for yoga for relaxation/clarification purposes. Plus, the quality of guys that I'm meeting is much better, but I'm less focused on them. 

...Sleep is a LOT better --- and I feel healthier and less exhausted when I wake up :)

I did not rest until I made everything good! Accenting with red & yellow, bronze & grey!

YOU are awesome. Thank you again for all your help --- didn't realize my life was going to change so much as a result of feng shui! 

...You're awesome Katie and the world should know. I have a sweet new job, a zest for life and have weeded out all the crap men in my life...I know what I want from myself AND everyone else thanks to you and feng shui. For real.

Laura's new and improved bedroom!

Amazing, right?  I LOVE it when a client takes the cures to the next level.  Of course she's sleeping better!  With the more organized space, her belongings are not tugging at her attention anymore when she's going off to dreamland.  The curtains over the mirror help immensely.  And the bedside tables ground the energy of the room and are inviting to a new partner.  And gone were the little girls except for one special one to remind her to keep her youthful spirit.  Much more grown up all around!  

Now, you may say, "Katie, she hasn't met her man yet.  Wasn't LOVE the goal?" And I will reiterate what she and I talked about on our call.  It'll happen, but she obviously (on a subconscious level) wanted to clean her own act up first.  After all, she wants to attract the best guy out there, but how can she when she's not being her best self?  

I look forward to some more emails from her regarding her love life.  I have a feeling she'll have good news to report.  Fingers crossed!  But in the meantime, I'm glad she's enjoying a more healthy, thriving version of herself.

[NOTE: If you're interested in feng shui, send me an email or give me a call.  If you're curious but hesitant, I can answer your questions.  I'm available in person or from a distance, and I customize the session to you.  If you'd rather begin with a mini-session, I'm happy to oblige.  All it takes is the will to make improvements in your life, and I'll help with the rest.]  

More info at  www.katierogersfengshui.com 

Why Would Anyone Give Up Their Car?

As the Kickstarter campaign wraps up today (success!), I thought I'd share my most "thoughtful" blog from the 80 Day experiment of going car-less (and with zero carbon emissions) in Los Angeles.  Enjoy, and thanks for the read.
An Essay on Our World -- Day 71

I have loved letting this movie evolve on its own. With very little pre-production, we kind of had to be at the mercy of That Something Way Bigger Than All of Us. Although the lack of planning has been a pain in our hinnies in a lot of ways, it has also given us a rare experience of just letting things happen...letting people, events, situations come to us. We've had the camera for most of it, and for that, I am grateful.

One of my favorite aspects of being a part of Carless in L.A. has been to observe certain themes as they surface in day-to-day life, in interviews, in the speeches that I've attended.

So, I'm going to take this time to comment on those themes, if y'all will bear with me.

****One of the reasons I embarked on this pilgrimage was as a result of my belief in the power of each of our individual choices. After all, it was someone's choice to take an idea and create it into a machine that would allow us to get from one place to another in a relatively short amount of time. And it was someone's choice to say, "Hey, that's a good idea!" and then buy it and drive it. And someone's choice to see it and say, "Damn, I want one too." And so on. And so on...

I interviewed a psychologist from UCLA the other day. Dr. Timothy Fong. He is an expert in addiction. He, in short, defines addiction as an action or behavior that one engages in successively that causes more havoc than pleasure, after it's all said and done. In other words, an addiction is not an addiction until the problems outweigh the good stuff. So a person can use cocaine, but if it's not wrecking his or her life, it technically isn't an addiction. 

Source

I, of course, was exploring the notion of "autoholics" with Dr. Fong. Are we, as Americans, addicted to our cars? I mean, can a whole society have an addiction? Perhaps we are modern-day Lotus-eaters, having mass-consciously indulged in the so-called conveniences of this machine called the car, and it has caused us to forget. And because we are ALL consuming this convenient little leaf, how would we be able to determine whether it was healthy for us or not?

No one can understand my gratitude for the automobile after this 71 days of zero carbon emissions. I glorify in every carpool ride that happens to being going my way. I adore all the things I somewhat took for granted: the private stereo system, the bucket seats, the intimacy of a private conversation, the ability to turn on whatever road calls the whim; I even adore the seatbelt and the cupholders, and the fact that there is room for my bike, my bag, and my backpack, and me.

Plus, there's the fact that certain cars, when you sit in them, give you a certain feeling... I'm talking about luxury here. I'm talking about feeling sexy. A new convertible Mini Cooper can do that. Much more than a bus can, believe me. Especially while driving down Pacific Coast Highway 1 on one of those L.A. blue sky, impossible-sun days...with India Arie playing loud and a good friend to share it all with.

Yet, I of course am even more keen on the problems that cars cause. I've been educated. In these 10-plus weeks, I have witnessed friends as they complain about traffic, parking tickets, parking meters, and other drivers on the road. People don't complain about gas as much...the cost is much less than it was in the spring, so I suppose it's all relative. I've seen friends' cars breakdown, have to go to the shop, and loose front bumpers. And then the complications of having to find a parking spot! Time-consuming. Gas-consuming. Oil-consuming. Good-mood-consuming.

One's luck these days is determined by one's abilities to find Doris Day parking, as a friend called it. Right there, right in front. That is a great feeling.

But on a bike, one's parking spot is always Doris Day's.

Here's the thing:

Can an individual think in terms of what is best for society? Enrique Penalosa determines that no, an individual does not have this ability. He was the mayor of Bogota, Columbia during a time when Bogota was crumbling under political, social, and environmental stress. He made laws that limited use of cars, and the city improved. He was a city official, and his job was to think in terms of what is best for the city as a whole.

Therefore, he believes that it is the duty of the government to think for the people...tell them what is best for all...because, left up the masses on an individual basis, they will fail.

He disclosed these philosophies in his lecture and in our interview. I was quick to challenge him on this.

To paraphrase: "But, Senor Penalosa, Americans love their freedom. If we start to limit their choices..."

My darlings. I am rebel at heart. I am. We all are. Our country, in a way, was founded on the rebellion of a few, particular individuals. We have built a rich and thriving democracy on the notion of freedom--liberty and justice for all! But has this freedom of choice gotten us in an less-than-free position, and we're not even aware?!

One car is not a problem. Ten cars are not a problem. We, as individuals, can no longer afford to look at ourselves this way though. When ice caps are melting, and poor animals are dying, and our beaches are covered in trash, and asthma is on the rise...

And children don't know what it is like to be in a grove of trees, because they have never seen a grove of trees, because parking lots have taken their place...

Source

And Alaskan wildernesses that our forefathers set up for generations beyond are now being drilled into because of a dependency on this stuff called oil...

Source

And people are afraid of each other because they don't have to be in the vicinity of others from different classes, races, socio-economic backgrounds...

Source

And all of our unique cities start looking eerily the same due to the cookie cutter strip malls that one can only get to in, you guessed it, a car...

Source

And people are depriving themselves of pecan pie at Christmas because of the fact that they are overweight (and don't know why!)...

Source

My question is this: Will our species evolve? Here's our big chance, people. We can actually start now. We can actually look at our consumer selves and say, "Okay, let's see? Are my individual actions for the greater good?"

Because you know what. Kids are smart. Do we really want the embarrassment of being the most selfish generation that ever was? Or perhaps, our selfishness is the result of the selfishness of many generations...including the generation that so violently killed or kicked the Native Americans off the land that they praised and respected and understood...

From the Gayaneshakgowa, the Great Law of Peace of the Hau de no sau nee, the Six Nations Iroquois Confederacy... "in our every deliberation we must consider the impact of our decisions on the next seven generations." 

Source

Seven generations.

I'm not sure we even think of the next one. Precious as they are. I'm not sure we even consider our own!

I hope we can prove Senor Penalosa wrong. That Americans don't have to rely on our politicians to make our choices for us... (Can someone say "scary," and I think y'all know what I'm talking about.)

This all being said, I need to impress upon you the following...

Extremes don't work. This experiment has been a complete extreme, moreso that I had foreseen. The result has been a strange sort of backlash, where I cannot wait until the 80th day at midnight where I will more than likely get in a vehicle, behind the wheel, and take to the highway and drive as far as that baby will go. Out to the desert maybe. Or down to Baja. Or maybe to the moon.

I will probably be criticized if I do that. Go guzzle lots of gas once I'm done. It's like a diet, where the person has deprived themselves of goodies for too long, so that they gobble up two tubs of Ben & Jerry's simply because they can.

When the pendulum swings one way, it goes back the other.

I will try not to drive to the moon, but I will drive when I want and need to. And I will not feel guilty...

Guilt serves nothing. Being hard on oneselves or others because they are harming the environment or whatever else serves nothing!

The other thing I have learned: I can't force anyone to do anything. It is exhausting to even think about trying to talk someone into taking public transportation with me. I mean, I'd be happy if they did, but again, if someone doesn't want to do something, if they didn't make the choice themselves, then the action is watered down and futile.

I had a goal at the beginning on the film on Day 1 when one of my good friends here in L.A. said, "Katie, you know I would not get on a bus. It's not my world."

Oh, how I wanted to prove her wrong! How I wanted to get her on the bus, just to say I had gotten her on a bus.

Would it have made her start taking public transportation all the time? Highly doubt it. Would she have realized it was not so bad? Probably.

The point is, it's not my place to be responsible for the actions of others, whether it be that friend., Paris Hilton, or my next-door neighbor.

It is my place to be responsible for myself...and speak up when I see a need.

I decided to drop the goal of getting that friend on the bus. Shifts in consciousness do not come in a day, or in a word, or by convincing someone to ride a damn bus. It is possible for it to happen that way, sure. But it is not my duty to TRY to shift consciousness. But I can allow consciousness to shift, beginning with my own.

I am lucky. I have had the amazing experience of undergoing a true shift in consciousness. I made a choice, and it yielded results. And as a response to my friend who says the bus isn't her world, I say this...

Put the Lotus down, now, sister. And start remembering...

Is "home" really behind your windshield or in your neat little apartment or at your cocktail parties? Because you're right. It's not your world.

It's all of ours.

We're in this together, dear hearts. Let's rejoice in that! It's all of ours, and what a rich and lovely species we are...

I'm so happy we're waking up.

Source

Birmingham Bike Treasures & Ava's First Ride

So I bought a bike!  If you are looking for a used in Birmingham, call me, because I have got your hook-up!  This guy's basement is a treasure chest of bicycles -- road bikes, mountain bikes, cruisers, and some antiques that had me drooling -- which is why he prefers to remain anonymous.  Some of these babies are worth money!  I went over there, in the rain, last week, thinking (grumbling), "This guy better have something."  Boy, was I surprised, if not shocked, and pleasantly so.

look at this beauty - in the works

just a few in one tiny section of the basement

this bike comes up to my thighs -- built for a four-year-old -- in my guy's words: "The French start them early"

"These should be in a museum!" I said, turning around once again to see another twenty or so bikes in yet another corner of the basement, and amazed by all of them.

I asked him if he wanted to have a show.  He said, yes, he wants to have a show.  (...to be continued?...)

I really wanted the baby blue vintage Schwinn, but I went for the Specialized mountain bike in a fit of practicality over style.  If I still lived in Venice Beach, the Schwinn would be mine!

Anyway, what I set off to write about was the Ride of Silence that I attended Wednesday night.

What a lovely idea.  All over the country, groups of cyclists rode in unison, taking over the streets of their towns and cities, to honor the people who have been killed while riding a bike on the road.  It's a demonstration that whispers, "Share the road, please."  No one speaks, and the ride is supposed to be slow.

Not slow enough for me!

Here's what happened:

So I got my bike, right?  And I have a two-year-old little girl, Ava.  And I've always thought how fun it will be to ride her around on the bike.  After minimal research, I decided to go with the old seat-attached-to-back-of-bike, like my parents used back in the 70s.

I've been very disorganized this week -- things have been happily out of control since the Kickstarter campaign met its goal (Thank You!), so of course, at 4 PM, I'm still without a seat for the bike, and I had really been looking forward to this group ride.  The group was meeting at 6:30 in Homewood.  (Oh, did I tell you that there was to be a police escort and everything?  Love!  We get to take over the streets legally this way!)

Just as I was about to give up, I called my new friend, Stan, who is a cyclist (and arborist) in town.  As I knew he would, he came up with a plan, "Get in the car with the baby, go buy the seat, bring it back to your house, I'll help you put it on, then I'm going to my 5:30 ride that I have scheduled, then I'll see you at the Ride of Silence."

Without hesitation, Ava and I sped off to the Bob's Bikes, where I knew they had a seat.

I drove up to see Stan pulling up to my place, on his bike no less.  He was out of breath.  He must have pedaled hard.  He was meeting a group to cycle before the Ride of Silence so he had about twenty minutes to help me.

So he is putting the seat on (after a slight hiccup because he discovered that I own very few tools -- good thing my neighbor walked up at the right time!), when I realized that I have a helmet for myself, but not for Ava.

Granted, this is our first ride on my new bike, with Ava on the back.  25 lbs extra.  No big deal, right?

Yeah.  Not stable.  And I was about to ride on roads with no bike lanes.  It was a relatively short ride to my destination, but...

I went on anyway.  After all, after LA, I can handle Birmingham, right?

I lasted five minutes.  I just hated that my child did not have a helmet on!  I called the bike shop, Cahaba Cycles, where the group was meeting.  "Do y'all have toddler helmets and will you be open in ten minutes?"

The answer was yes.  So carefully, very carefully, I meandered over a busier street then through a sleepy neighborhood route.  A car whizzed by me, just as another cyclist was passing me as well.  He, in a very protective manner (gotta love the South) yelled at the driver, "SLOW DOWN!"

I had a few other "protective" moments.  At the major light, a young man in a huge truck, who was also waiting on the light, motioned to me to go ahead when it turned green.  Then, he sort of escorted me across Highway 31.  So cute!

A couple of minutes later, in Homewood, the car behind me basically stopped mid-street to simply let me go where I needed to go, which was the left-hand turn lane.  Yay!

Southern gentlemen, thank you for the courtesy.  You have no idea what it means to a lady sometimes.

(Of course, these men could've just thought I was completely nuts to be on my bike with a child on the back in a town with few bike lanes, but hey, I thought I'd give credit where credit is due.)

Got to the store, bought the helmet, and dozens upon dozens of folks had shown up (in full gear and mostly on road bikes I might add) for the Ride of Silence.  It was a lovely sight.

Of course, Ava was the only two-year-old.  In fact, I think I spotted about two children total, including mine.

But I prevailed.  We set out towards the back of the group, the blue police lights leading the way.  Silence.  Except for Ava going, "Weeeeee!  Weeeee!" (Yes, just like that pig in the commercial.)  So much for silence when we're around.

Sure enough, about ten minutes into the ride, we fell way behind on a big hill.  Too far behind.  A behind that even the cops weren't comfortable with, because they told me I needed to catch up, which, considering my circumstances, was not going to happen.

I merrily stopped, turned around, and rode home, this time more confident, and glad I made the right decision not to push it, with a baby on the back.

We stopped at the park, because Ava asked me too, and I tell you what, riding through the slow-paced neighborhoods of Homewood and Mountain Brook, the cool air on the my skin, the day calmly slipping away as I pedaled on --- yes, this is what I have been missing.  Just being outside, and breathing.  

"Cat, Mommy, meow."  Ava said.   And then, "I love bikes."  And then she went into a chorus of Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star.

"I do too, sweetie.  I do, too."

Pride, Prejudice, & the Bus Ride in the Bad Part of Los Angeles

This blog was written when I was about 60 days into the 80-day attempt to emit zero carbons into the atmosphere for the documentary I'm making called CarLess in L.A.  Contribute to the movie at Kickstarter before May 22!  

A familiar ride {source-LA Times Blog}

Happiness Is

Today, I went to a birthday party lunch for my friend, J.  It was a delightfully charming party in an exquisitely charming house in a horrendously not-so-charming part of town.

And I got there by bus.

I was so proud of myself. Woke up, did some yoga (saves me every time: my caffeine, my workout, my therapy, my church), and walked to my darling little neighborhood farmer's market for groceries. I had it all timed out perfectly. I logged into mta.net (mapquest for bus riders), and found a nifty little route that would take me an hour, but so what? I had the classic Pride and Prejudice to accompany me while commuting.

I showered, dressed, walked to the bus stop. A car pulled up with two young men in it. They asked me if I wanted to "puff" with them. I politely declined and took my seat at the bus stop. They offered me a ride. I declined again. They went away.

The bus came just on time. I sat towards the middle of the bus and was intent on my book (Elizabeth ran into Mr. Darcy and how his character had changed since their last meeting!) when I noticed the bus had stopped at a stop. And wasn't cranking up again. All the riders just sat there. There was no explanation by the driver. We were simply not going.

Now, time was ticking. I was to attend my lunch at 1. And I had timed it just so. Why weren't we going? I had another bus to catch, a transfer to make!

Finally, I asked a gentlemen in the row next to mine. He told me that the bus had hit a pole and the mirror had smashed and that it was illegal for the driver to drive without a mirror and that another bus was coming.

How I missed this I have no idea. All I can say is that I really like Jane Austen's story.

Sure enough, another bus came up from behind. We all deboarded, and as we walked to the bus behind us, I witnessed the broken mirror, shattered into pieces on the sidewalk and in the road. Interesting. I thought. Broken mirrors have always brought out my superstitious side. I was glad I wasn't the one who had broken it. Seven years is a long time.

I made it to my next stop but had missed my transfer. By a lot. I don't know how long I waited. Thank God I was smart enough to remember my book.

Finally the Metro 150 rolled up, and boy, was this bus a winner. Yuck. I sat quickly, quietly, my nose still in the book. I looked up occasionally to notice that I was not in a part of town I had ever seen. Nor had I ever wanted to see it. Nor will I want to see it again.

Pardon my discourtesy, but I was in a downright BAD part of town, which means interesting characters on the bus.

Alas, the woman next to me was wearing light pink with a red scarf, which is a great color combination according to me. I glanced over and saw that she too had a book.
The chapter title: What Is Happiness?
The name of the book: A Piece of the Mirror

Now, what was I supposed to make of this, Universe? I was just on a bus that made pieces of a mirror. And here was a woman with a book of that title with the words "What Is Happiness?" glaring at me.

Signs, signs, signs. Some of them are more clear than others. Some of them are too clear to be ignored. This one was really just a little Godwink, as a friend of mine likes to call them. A reminder that there is something bigger out there. Perhaps a chance for a little spark to happen in what may be just an ordinary day?

I did not take this as an occasion to stand up and preach about Happiness on a bus. I did not rack my brain with the wonders of why o why I was late to my party when I had been so dutiful about time. I did not take this little coincidence or synchronicity as anything but a curiosity. I didn't even think it was perhaps a Godwink until now, as I write.

There are signs. And then there are SIGNS.

What we do with them is up to us, I believe. I surely had SIGNS when considering the making of this film. I followed them, and I trusted, and although, I was, in all honesty, freaking out about giving up my car for 80 days and attempting this crazy experiment, I am doing it. I did it. I didn't have to. Of course not. But the bigger part of me, the soul part of me, whispered, then whispered louder, "Do it."

So, I'm doing it.

A piece of the mirror. I can reflect on it now (pun intended). A lot of these spiritual texts and guru people say that we are all mirrors of each other.

Here I was the only white girl on a bus in a seedy part of town, dressed up, reading a very white book, and going to a very white party, frankly. ..

When a man boards the bus, falling over himself, drunk or deaf or just sad or something, and he slightly bumps the man next to me.

He says as he stumbles his way to the very back of the bus, "Excuse me."

The man next to me says, "It's okay."

And we're all human. Once again, we're all human. I love it. Not all the time. But when I do love it, it's the purest feeling out there.

{source}