I grew up in California. I was born in Lodi, lived in Vallejo and then we moved to Napa where we lived for ten years. When I was 12 we moved to Ukiah, Ca. in the beautiful Mendocino county. Mendocino county is the hippy capitol of Ca. And I'm not talking about the Silicone Valley hippy with their wool socks, Birkenstocks, and over-priced Priuses. I'm talking about the true hippies. The earth dwellers. The lovers of pine needles, moss and ferns. The kind of people who lived off grid before it was en-vogue. The ones who exited society to live without rules or social responsibility. These are the type of hippies that I brushed shoulders with during my formative years and I'm mildly amused by how much I've been affected by them.
When I was a child and we lived in Napa, we would go to the Odd Fellows Campground on the Russian River. The drive took us over the mountains and into the coastal valley near Mendocino County. The road there was narrow and winding and I often spent the first hour upon arrival overcoming carsickness. But it was worth it.
While in the car, I spent the whole time with my face plastered to the window watching for the Gnomes and Fairies. That's what I called them anyway. I called them Gnomes and Fairies because I knew they were there, but I never got to see them; only the evidence of them. An old VW van here, a small yurt there. My favorites were the old school buses painted all different colors; some with curtains; most with stove pipes. I knew they were there, but my eyes never caught the occupants of these strange abodes. Their homes reminded me of mushrooms (especially the yurts) popping up under the canopy of the Redwoods, sharing the fern-strewn ground with the other inhabitants of the forest.
I was never turned off by the simplicity of the estates. Nor did it ever occur to me how dirty, or un-kept or primitive their existence was. I don't know if it was the odd placement of the dwellings, the lazy list of the smoke from the smokestacks, or the strange absence of the people that lived in them; but something about them pulled upon my melancholy heart and left me feeling as though I was observing something profound without knowing what.
As a child I would wish for the ride to be longer, hoping never to leave the feeling of mystery and illusiveness. Who were these people? Where did they come from and how did they have the courage to live like that? I'm not sure why I thought it courageous. I just know that at the time I felt that they had something that I did not have. They were free.
After arriving at our destination I would spend the time it took to set up camp recalling the details of each homestead like flipping through mental photographs. Some places were more inviting to my imagination and I'd rehears everything I could remember, imagining what it would be like to live there. What was it about that life that so captivated me. Was it the Redwoods? Was it the ferns and mist and dripping foliage? Was it the place or the people?
As an adult I've asked myself that question many times. I think, in part, it's the wonder of a child's mind that is un-cluttered by the cares of this world. But when I really contemplate the experience, I realize that what drew me to the coastal "Gnomes and Fairies" was the idea that one could live free without the weight of structure and responsibility. Even as a child I knew the weight of structure. My slightly Obsessive Compulsive, control- freak, mind longed to be free of the confines of itself. I can see now that if I could have put into word the feeling that I had as a child I would have said, " How wonderful that those people can live out here away from those who would tell them they had to be a certain way. How glorious it must feel to have no one expect anything from you. To be free and at ease and find joy in what is simple and quiet and pleasant."
As I contemplate that, I have to wonder if the longing in my heart as a child was not really for the lifestyle of the hippies; but perhaps was for freedom itself. As we grow up we become aware and awareness is such a burden. Even to a small mind, the weight of knowledge was more than I wanted. I was a spectator, even then, looking in to an ideal that I had already lost.
The Bible says that whom the Son sets free is free indeed. I wonder if we are not, perhaps, more free that we realize. The Bible says that we are to become like children in order to please God. I wish that I was that child again. The one that existed before the longing. I know we can't run from responsibility. We can't hide from the world around us. The world needs us too much for us to hide. But I do think that God longs for us to walk in that simple kind of freedom where knowledge has not stolen joy and pride has not smothered innocence.
If we ever find ourselves longing to escape perhaps we should ask ourselves what we are indeed escaping from. Could it be the very things we want to escape are cages of our own making? Could it be that less is required of us than we realize? Could it be that God intends for us to live at peace and ease? Could it be that the feeling I had on that road to the river was not a fairytale but a whisper of The Maker of my soul inviting me to live, in essence, as He had designed me to live?
Perhaps those moments as a child were, "Taste and see that I am good", moments. Maybe God gave them to me so that now, as an adult, I could remember, and find my way back home.
Until next time...
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