One Year: 12 Cities ~ Finding My California Home
by Ingrid Hart

On one of my daily bike rides along the American River, I asked myself, “How do I get out of this situation?”  Is there a way to extract a single woman from a Sacramento suburb whose two children have just left for college? This bedroom community I live in was created for families, not for a single, liberal, passionate entrepreneur like me. The empty nest I now live in feels like a haunted tomb, and ghosts from past, full, purposeful days jab me in the ribs—What? You still here? Get a life.

My career was set up for Children of the Corn—my term of endearment for my kids that I coined nearly 18 years ago. I own a boutique communication firm creating websites for government agencies. Or at least that’s what I tell people when they ask. The truth is my company does whatever we can to feed the ravenous machine. Focus group facilitation, website usability testing, conference blogging, and even the best job ever—hosting an open house for Caltrans’ public comments at Ole Hanson Beach Club, overlooking the Pacific Ocean in San Clemente. Sa-weet!

Don’t get me wrong, I actually like my job—or at least the laid-back lifestyle it offers. In the oven-baked Sacramento summers, my office uniform is shorts and a tank top. In winter, the dress code is gnome-themed pajamas, an all-cotton bathrobe, and sheepskin-lined Ugg Boots. I shower mid-morning and nap every afternoon. The days of physical client meetings are so yesterday. Now there are efficient “Green” teleconferences and web-based meetings. Human contact in the physical realm is about as useful as a rotary telephone or dial-up Internet access. While this lifestyle cuts back on the clothing and gas budget, some, if not most, of the social connection is lost. There are days that go by when I don’t engage with a single human being. Okay, the grocery clerks and I are on a first name basis, I chat up the drive-thru window attendant at Olé Mexico a little too long, and yes, I am on Facebook—a lot.

The Great Divide

The metaphorical island I live on is an oasis. I have a housekeeper and a gardener who keep my home museum-clean and weed-free. At times I feel like Tom Hanks in the movie Castaway, living on a remote Pacific Island that aches with beauty: all palm trees, white sand beaches, and azure skies, but at the same time is a prison. In Castaway, Hank’s finds a volleyball, paints a face on it, and christens it with the name “Wilson.”  For my island amusement, I’ve adopted a gnome couple—Augustus and Helga, who each stand two-feet tall, ages 400 and 250, respectively, which is a big age gap when you consider that Augustus was 150-years-old when Helga was born. Since they get along so well and Augustus always says, “You’re only as young as you feel,” the match is obvious. They stand lovingly in front of the fireplace with their red and blue pointy hats, comforting me with their presence as I walk the well-worn groove between the living room, home office, bathroom, and kitchen.

Every room in my artistic three-bedroom, two-bath home is painted a different color. My bedroom is a deep burgundy, the bathrooms—gold and teal. The children’s rooms are Peaceful green and Caribbean blue. The kitchen is Apple green, trimmed with a Marigold yellow. My home office is French lavender, the color of femininity, a grown-up version of pink. Standing guard in the corner with a dime in his mouth is a jade-green Chinese money frog. Situated in the prosperity Feng Shui corner, his sole purpose is to bring abundance to my business—a job he’s done well, considering my business has provided a consistent level of cash flow for the last five years. Admittedly, I have a good thing going if for no other reason that I really don’t have to brush my teeth if I don’t want to. Still, I am restless.

Why am I taking this journey?

My 20-year-old daughter said to me, “Why don’t you get a part-time job, or host a foreign exchange student? You need to connect with the community more—y’know sink your roots in.” While these ideas seemed more appealing than my son’s suggestion to ramp up my workout routine for a smokin’ hot bod, and then to sweeten the deal by purchasing a Lamborghini—“That’ll get you a man, mom; then you’ll have it made.”  And the image of me, the world’s most cautious driver negotiating a cherry-red sports car in the slow lane with a chiseled 30-year-old young man who wanted me only for my body and fancy car tickled my funny bone. But, no.
No and no. No, I didn’t want to sink my roots into a suburban community and no, I didn’t want to do situps and Hindu squats. So I went for a bike ride, and that’s when the idea popped into my head. Why not explore cities in California and then decide where I wanted to live? Who needs to order the entrée when there is sampler plate on the menu? As I began to peddle my hybrid bicycle faster, the name of my adventure lit up on the marquee, One Year: 12 Cities ~ Finding My California Home. Now I’m cooking with fire. The idea set my heart racing, would I have the courage to do this? What would it mean? How would I start? All these questions, precious few answers, but I knew in my heart that over the course of time they would all be answered. Still, the biggest question remained: Why am I taking this journey?

“If you want something to change, you must make a new choice,” my spiritual mentor Kadea said, on our weekly “Fire of Grace” teleconference. Indeed.  I’ve been a seeker of enlightenment for the last eight years. My search has taken me to readings by intuitives, classes on meditation, workshops on angels, seminars on creativity, retreats on fasting, and spiritual healings by alchemists. In the “new age” realm, I have explored most everything that’s out there. I’ve been “vibed” by a machine, placed my feet in an “Ion-Pro” foot detox apparatus, and had my body’s chemistry analyzed while holding a copper rod in my hand. Some of these healing modalities have been helpful in my search, and others have been laughable. All of them have given me insight into the human condition, which I believe is one of struggle. Life is complex. We are here to learn, grow, teach and inspire. All of us are divine beings with something unique and individual to offer the world. That is why I think it is so important to develop and express our true selves—our greatest gift to humanity.

Calgon, take me away…

In the spirit of Kadea’s initiative: change through choice, I began to plan my escape from the island. What conscious choices would I make to change the momentum of my life? I did know a few things: one: I wanted to stay in California; and two: find a community that felt like home, a place where I could plant the acorn and be present for the oak tree’s growth. Sink the roots deep and watch the canopy above fan out like a peacock’s feathers—all grandeur and brilliance. I was taking this journey because I want to experience life in the trenches while I am still healthy, vibrant and strong. I want to test-drive the spiritual ideas I’ve collected over the last eight years and see how they handle in the road of life. It is impossible to do this from the island—it’s too safe, too set-apart and much too lonely.

And that’s when I made my first mistake: telling my mother about my idea, complete with selling my home, and gallivanting to a new California city each month. “Oh,” she said. “Oh, Oh, Oh, I don’t know, that’s not such a good idea.”

But first, here’s how I selected the cities…