Photo by: Ben Long

Photo by: Ben Long

I recently had the good fortune of producing a lynda.com photography title with acclaimed San Francisco photographer, and phenomenal human being, Ben Long (www.oreillynet.com/pub/au/2862), while on the stunningly gorgeous mountaintop property of Rancho Ojai (www.ranchoojai.net), amongst “wild”, well, um…pigs…actually. Now, while my admiration of Ben Long’s genius goes without saying, and the views atop Rancho Ojai are the best in the land – it was those damn pigs that really stole the show, and my heart, in the process. It isn’t everyday when one can proudly attest to shooting live action video with a renowned photographer while 400-pound farm animals chew lovingly on the rubber feet of the camera tripods. I, happily, can boast about this joyous day for the rest of my life, while changing the details of the story at any telling. For example, “Ben’s prescription eyeglasses were a chew toy for a curious pig” becomes, “Ben chased a 600-pound wild pig-like creature through dense, thorny shrubbery for miles in a desperate attempt to retrieve his prescription eyeglasses from the razor-sharp teeth of the beast.” You get where I’m going here. But the truth is, these animals, with “tiny” babies in tow, were inquisitive, yet amiable and intelligent, and funny. Really funny. And, I’ll admit, I was thrilled when Ben sent me the top photo that he “secretly” shot of me snapping a photo on my iPhone of one of the gentle giants. But when I tell the story at parties, I’ll have to make sure to keep the photos well-hidden, lest I spoil the fire-breathing, claw-wielding monster version.

I may be single again, but I’m certainly not alone. I’ve never had trouble making friends, and, I’ve been making more new ones in recent weeks than I had in the previous year altogether.  And yes, some of them are men. And no, I’m not naive enough to believe they really just want to be friends, but that doesn’t mean it has to go their way, either. In fact, right now, I’m enjoying spending time by myself, and am very protective of the extra space that’s been allowing me to reinvent myself as the philanthropist I’ve always wanted to be. And it all starts with my newly registered business Cause for Action. For a couple years now, I’ve turned the idea for this business ’round and ’round in my head, even getting a weak start last year designing a very uninspired website.  All that changed last month when the business finally became a stepping stone to completing a couple real projects that I’ve been pouring myself into  – heart and soul. The first is a documentary project that I can’t reveal at this time, as it’s pending sponsorship. The second, is a fund-raising event called Compassion is in Fashion, that will feature local “celebrities” walking the catwalk accompanied by adoptable canines. Nothing gives me a greater sense of purpose than having an outward focusing goal – to facilitate the adoption of 40 lovable canines in the year that I turn 40. So, for a substantial period of time I will be turning my attention away from this blog, to spend time on these two important projects. You can catch me at www.causeforaction.com and www.causeforaction.com/blog to learn more, and hopefully, help spread the word on some issues that are near and dear to my heart. I hope to see you over there!

When did the planet’s human inhabitants become so mindless when it comes to time management? Hasn’t the advance of technology, at speeds seemingly faster than light,  ensured that we have more time? If so, then how come I’m always running late? What do we humans consider an important enough event to show up on time for these days? A job interview, a funeral, a hospital visit, a wedding? Or how about a 911 call? Let me just say I wouldn’t want to be the one needing emergency service.

Recently, in my quest to have better time management,  I did the unthinkable.  It shames me to admit this, but I spent more than 99 cents on an iPhone app! It was as if paying $6.99 for the “2Do” app would ensure that I would manage my time better. And, I’ll admit, upon first downloading this sexy app, I was intent on getting my money’s worth. In order to gain time, I realized I would initially need to invest time  – so, invest time is what I did. I created list after list. Grocery lists. Pet supply lists. Work project lists. Home project lists. Vacation lists. Wish lists. List lists. You name it -  I created it.  Then real life got in the way. The snooze option on my alarm. Traffic delays. Meetings that started late because everyone was pushing snooze on their alarms or getting stuck in traffic.

So what did my new-found desire to manage time really get me? An awareness that time in this modern age is not very manageable. Oh well. You win some and you lose some…time, that is.

The beauty of friends is that they often see the oncoming train, and steer you clear, before you ever realize the extent of the problem. Maybe you were just walking alongside the tracks to see what signs of life spring up in between. Or maybe you were crossing the tracks over and over in an effort to test your chance for either luck or misfortune. Or, even scarier, maybe you were standing square in the center of the tracks, waiting in anticipation of that final glimpse at life – there, and then forever and at once, gone. All I know is that a set of good friends is what everyone needs in his or her darkest and brightest hours. Thank you Max, James, and Ashley for helping me avert a most certain danger, and keeping me focused on the many stops that still lie ahead. I love you dearly, my friends.

In response to my asking her repeated questions about where to indulge my rekindled interest in hiking, my friend Ashley bought me a day hike book for Ventura County. I was stunned at the number of trails in the area that had gone unnoticed by me. I’ve always been the kind of person that slows down, looks around, and smells the flowers, so I was surprised that I really hadn’t known that there’s a waterfall in Santa Paula, an oak forest in Point Mugu, and a seal sanctuary, a mere 12 miles north of me in Carpinteria. It dawned on me that somewhere along the way I had ceased to stop looking around my environment and had been missing all these things right under my nose. I would imagine it’s because I was busy looking at other things, as we tend to see what we are looking for, and don’t see what we are NOT looking for.

The irony is that this comes after a long week of debating a potential move to one of four places: San Francisco, Portland, Seattle, or Boston. I’ve been feeling very restless and have wanted to live in a bigger city for awhile now, even though I know I’m a small-ish town girl at heart. I’ve done my thing in, and am done with,  New York City and Denver, but these other places have always had a certain appeal to me. As it stands now, I have a strong employment prospect in Boston. An old company I did much work for in the past, has now spun off into a newer company that is doing quite well, and they contacted me and dangled a carrot. At first, I nearly said “yes” without much consideration, but then I realized two things. First, I love the work I’m doing now and second, I love the west coast. I’ve been signed up for job ads for Portland, Seattle, and San Francisco for years, but the right job never came along that could lure me from this community I’ve called “home” for 15 years. Pretty unbelievable considering I was the girl who never planned on settling down anywhere. But the magic of this place has slowly been subsiding for me over the last few years…that is until I started exploring the world around me again.

So, will a waterfall, some oak trees, and a nearby seal sanctuary be enough to keep me here forever? Probably not. But then again, the grass always seems greener somewhere else. All I know is that my happiness needs to come from inside me, and has nothing to do with where I am physically located on this planet. So, in addition to exploring the world around me more, I’ve also started exploring those things that truly make me happy from the inside out. Like taking photos of this mom seal cautiously guarding her pup, and watching my dog leap ecstatically through a field of flowers after tiny creatures. I can’t predict my future, but now that my eyes are wide open, and I’m seeing what I’ve been missing – I’m on a mission to explore as much as possible. As a result, I’m looking at the world as if for the first time and I’m excited by all there is to see.

Dublin the Dog and I braved the beach while others remained hidden away in upper level apartments or at higher elevations throughout Ventura, after heeding weather warnings of a potential tsunami slamming the Pacific coast. After all, a little tsunami is no match for Hurricane Samara who has already left a trail of destruction wherever she’s been. So I figured, why not go face to face with the rain and wind and join the helicopters looming over the ocean waters of Ventura, in hopes of glimpsing one of Mother Nature’s most devastating forces. So here we were, woman with wildly wind-swept hair and canine with hilariously wind-swept ears, watching the tiniest of waves tumbling under a dark, stormy sky. Would a huge monster of a wave rise from the sediment-laden turbulence of the Pacific Ocean? Would we be suddenly thrust onto the ocean floor, as a whirl of buildings and cars floated above us? Would we see our house, steadily losing buoyancy, drop down beside us – as the contents of our simple lives spilled forth from the windows, doors, and chimney? Would the dozens upon dozens of heart-shaped rocks I’ve salvaged from the beach over the years also pour out from our once firmly-planted dwelling, to be rightly returned to the deep, blue waters from which they came? Caught up in the fascination of it all, I was jolted back into reality upon returning to my house and finding it upright and unchanged. Of course, this reality is a good thing, but I still can’t suppress the excitement I feel whenever Mother Nature takes control. I’ve always hoped that when I die it will be by some trick from her magically powerful hands. I’m just glad it didn’t happen today.

Llamas and dogs make friends, but just how deep do they bond? When Gaze, the llama, gets out of sight of his constant companion, Baylord, the llama, he kicks at the dirt, pulls on the leash, and gets downright unpleasant. Dublin and Checkers met for the first time on the weekend this photo was taken, but these dogs were instant best friends…a reaction that neither dog has shown with any other canine in her or his life. No one can doubt the mutual affection and attachment that is so readily apparent between these two sets of furry beings, but how deep does that well run? I imagine it runs as deep as that between human friendships. And it probably never hits a rough patch, or dissolves suddenly during emotional turmoil.  My guess is that friendship amongst the four-legged is an unlabeled, unconditional phenomena that is never given a second thought, and that’s probably how it weathers every storm.

My day started off the same as every other this month. Feeling the weight of depression that only a broken relationship can impart, I dragged myself out of bed and blamed myself immediately for the ugly state of the world. It’s a good thing for my dog, or I might not even bother waking up and feeling sorry for myself. So, this is progress. But the reality is, it does get much easier every day and I notice that I don’t miss the person nearly as much as I agonize over what I did wrong or could have done better. Always the ruminating overachiever.  However, today was a little different, because I really didn’t care about over achievement either. I just wanted to get on with my life again. And never was there a better way to start doing that then to immerse myself in the situation that was about to unfold on this sunny California morning.

So, I dragged myself out of bed,  threw on whatever would get me out to the beach (obviously aware that there would be no fashion show) and leashed up Dublin the Dog for our regular morning outing. I walked with a neighbor woman for most of the walk up the beach and talked about work, life, and dogs. I’m not one to walk and talk for a long part of my morning venture, but today I just felt like the company. If I were to analyze the workings of the universe, that should have been my first indicator something was different. I dropped the woman off at her spot on the beach and then turned around to begin the walk home. Dublin the Dog turned with me and stayed really close on my heels, not obsessively exploring the sand dunes as she normally would. That would be hint number two that something was about to happen.

So, I walked and walked and suddenly realized I hadn’t looked back at Dublin in a while. When I did finally turn to locate her, I couldn’t believe what I saw. Back  a 100 paces in the sand sat Dublin, upright on her hiney, and directly to her left sat a baby…penguin. Well, that’s what my eyes first witnessed, but upon closer inspection I realized that Dublin was actually sitting side by side with a black and white seabird of some sort – that just happened to be sitting up on its haunches like a penguin. So there sat my cattle/bird dog, sitting beside this penguin impostor, as though they were in a movie theater watching a very boring film of me. As I moved in closer I instinctively knew, from having rescued many birds before, that this bird was not sitting by a bird-eating dog by choice. He was sitting there because he was detained against his will. By the time I was near enough to touch the bird, I had already pulled off my Geoffrey Beene vest that had become my standard bird catching apparatus on these morning walks. As I moved in quickly to cover the bird and pick him up, Dublin the Dog became very vocal and threatening upon seeing the “baby penguin” start to move. But this bird was so calm, cool, and collected, that both Dublin and myself seemed to pick up his vibe and we both instantly mellowed out. As I walked with this fabulously round, quite heavy creature tucked away in my vest, with only his sweet face and beak peeking out, I became overwhelmed by the smell of petroleum. At first I thought I must have walked past a heavily tarred area in the sand, but then I realized the smell was so overpowering, it seemed to follow us down the length of the beach. Suddenly it hit me, and my heart sunk – this little bird was  a victim of an oil spill. Sure enough, when I got him home and pulled him out of my vest, I saw that both of my hands had been completely blackened by the thick coat of petroleum on his underside. I was absolutely sickened that this poor, innocent creature should have to endure this misery because some careless captain, or boater or whoever the hell had spilled this deadly substance into the ocean – this poison that renders a bird’s feathers and thermal protection completely ineffective, leaving them to die a slow agonizing death by hypothermia.

Fortunately, this bird was lucky. I knew from experience that Patagonia, that wonderful outdoor clothing company with a conscience, takes birds and other injured or orphaned animals right at the front desk of their Ventura headquarters. With my bird friend in the back seat, I headed down to Patagonia, nearly suffocating from the  stench of tar infiltrating every nook and cranny of my car. I couldn’t  believe one little bird had absorbed so much of this black poison. When I got him to Patagonia, Kim Stroud, the tireless Director of the Ojai Raptor Center (www.ojairaptorcenter.org), met me at the front desk and whisked him off to a courier who would bring him to Santa Barbara for a special intense cleaning process, and then further on up the coast for rehabilitation. Kim informed me that this bird was a Murre and that these guys live far out in the waters of Channel Islands and beyond, and are rarely seen on the coast unless injured. Evidently, they are so used to living in seclusion that they seem to sense no fear from dogs or humans, and that’s why this creature never once tried to poke my or Dublin’s eye out with his dagger-like beak. When I left him with Kim, he was peaceful, yet still spunky, and ready to get back to the day to day business of being a seabird. It is my belief that he will get to do that very soon.

People, please, if you see an animal in despair, do your best to help it. Don’t convince yourself there’s nothing wrong or that the animal can help itself. If something feels wrong to you,  it probably is wrong. An injured seabird is likely to be mauled to death by a dog, or suffer horrendously for days on end as its system slowly shuts down. Think ahead and store the numbers on your cell phone for the rescue groups in your area that provide resources for injured or orphaned wildlife. The help you can provide one of these fallen creatures, often just by making a simple phone call,  is tremendous. It’s almost always the difference between life and death. And if able to make a conscious choice, I guarantee  you that seabird would choose life. Absolutely and without a doubt.

My friend James has a favorite quote. “If you live long enough, you’ll eventually lose everything you love.” Some may think that’s depressing, but I find it inspiring, and to know James, is to know he does too. It forces us to look at love as the center of the universe. To hang onto it for all it’s worth, for as long as we possibly can. To rethink the traps we get ourselves into that keep out love. Fortunately, I haven’t lived so long that all love is lost. I’ve got a chance to build a stockpile. And who wouldn’t want a stockpile of love?

I met a wonderful woman yesterday – the kind of person I would date, if she were a man, or if I dated women.  This young lady, Brandy, had wisdom beyond her 29 years and we had an instant rapport and understanding of one another that seemed to spring from our  tumultuous upbringings and life tragedies.  Our meeting was in every way, shape, and form a working of the universe.  Universe working #1: A friend had canceled lunch plans with me at the last minute, so I decided to take Dublin the Dog to the park. Universe working #2: For some reason, instead of putting Dublin into the car after our park visit was over, I leashed her and started walking toward downtown – a walk I’ve never done in the 15 years I’ve lived in this town.   Universe working #3: I was starving, but had no one to watch Dublin while I ran inside a nearby restaurant to place my order. Brandy, sensing my apprehension as I looked back at Dublin tied to a tree, offered to stand guard. Universe working #4: After sitting down at the outdoor table next to Brandy’s, we chatted briefly about dogs and she said something that hit a nerve and sparked a more emotional conversation. Before I knew it, she was moving over to my table and before we both knew it, two hours had passed rather quickly.

My conversation with Brandy was one of the most deeply reflective, bonding moments I’ve had with anyone in a long time. Never one to judge a book by its cover, I did wonder, however, how other people would respond to Brandy upon first meeting her. She’s a beautiful girl, with the most incredible green eyes, and she just happens to have piercings in her nose and lip. Her face is framed by ringlets of multicolored hair, and she wears the attire of the youth neo-punk movement – all black with an assortment of silver bangles. On that particular day, she wore very large rings on every finger, and at some point through lunch I noticed that they were covering tattoos on all her fingers. I wondered at the time if the tattoos were something she regretted and was now relegated to covered them with jewelry, or if she just wore the rings every now and then. I never asked, because to me it wasn’t important, but I did wonder if ignorant, conservative-types would tend to stereotype this very intelligent young woman based on appearance alone.

What was so refreshing about Brandy was that she, like me, has a kindness to others that extends beyond the surface. At one point during our meeting, a man with a guitar and large duffel bag staggered up to us, asking for the nearest convenience store. I gave him directions one way, but Brandy knew something a little closer, which I’m sure he appreciated since he was on foot with quite a heavy load.  He was obviously without some mental faculties, but was together enough to have manners, and as he gave us a very warm thank-you, I couldn’t help but wonder how he sounded on that guitar. About a half-hour later he came passing by again from behind me and as he walked back into the street he shouted to me “I love your hair” and then said to both of us “you’re beautiful people, wonderful people. Thank you.” I got to thinking how this guitar man was probably rarely treated with respect, and that our simple act of providing directions made him feel more human.

This exchange had me very inspired, and I thought it interesting that it should happen on this day of all days – the day I had finally started research for a documentary film I’ve wanted to do for years – pets of the homeless. One of the arguments in support of pets as companions for the homeless is that the bond inspires the person to survive and brings light into an otherwise dark existence. Arguments against the relationship say it’s bad for the animal and can create a public nuisance, largely because of the bully breed types of dogs often involved. Obviously, the truth is going to be different on a case-by-case basis. I found myself wondering how guitar man would fare on the streets with a dog, and I mentioned something to Brandy about the start of my research. Brandy told me she knew lots of people who were homeless with pets in Oakland (where she lives) and that she considered them friends. She has two young rescue dogs who she loves to no end, and having been homeless herself a few years back, I imagine she would have been a wonderful pet caretaker even during her time of need – had she had dogs at the time. I found myself wanting to hop on a plane to Oakland as soon as possible to interview some of Brandy’s friends and learn more about this topic that has intrigued me for so long. I made a mental note that these would be the first round of interviews I’d complete next month. The big draw, of course, would be that I could visit with Brandy more, experience her wisdom again, and hopefully provide insight and comfort to her as well, as we traded more life stories.

It was starting to get dark and I still had to make my way back up the hill to my car. Brandy had to get back to her parent’s, who she was visiting for her birthday week, to welcome her boyfriend to town. So, we traded contact info, hugged each other a couple times, and promised to stay in touch. As I walked up the street, I turned back to get one last look at Brandy. She had ran into a couple friends on the street and was greeting them with her brilliant smile, which in turn made me smile. I continued up the street until I had passed a row of buildings and could see the ocean gleaming under a brilliant sunset. I thought to myself, what a perfect way to end this surprisingly beautiful day.