Charleston to Rhinebeck, 1988-ish
Sitting at a traffic light in my blue Taurus station wagon on East Bay Street, in Charleston, contemplating how on earth I was going to pull off participating in the ‘Proprioceptive Writing Course” at The Omega Institute in Rhinebeck, New York. I needed to do this.
As a single mother to two daughters, making my living in the healing arts with theater on the side, and managing well but definitely hand to mouth, this was not exactly in the cards. If I took the bus from here to NYC, and then another bus up, and paid for the course and the cabin, I would need $800.
Just then a sportscar carreened around the corner and smashed into me. The driver jumped out. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry! Oh my God! Can we not involve the police or insurance and can we just handle this between us?” Says he. “Well….” says I, and he dives into his pocket, “Here is my card, take your car to my car guy and I will cover everything.”
The structure of my car was not affected, only cosmetics. The car guy’s estimate was $800 for the cosmetic repairs. I patted my car, thanked it for being a sport, and made arrangements to head for Rhinebeck.
When I arrived at Port Authority in NYC, I climbed out of the bus in my long flowing dress and loose hair, bought a bagel and sat down in a sunny spot on the ground to wait for my next bus.
As time passed, a policeman posted himself next to me, staring straight ahead. I asked him if he was looking for something specific. He said ‘You are a sitting duck, M’am, you are obviously not from here and you are an easy target. I’m protecting you.” I thanked him, my bus pulled up and I climbed on.
The entire bus was full except for a seat in the very front next to an adorable looking woman with big blue eyes, a funky wide brimmed hat with blond curls dribbling out and a subtle smile. I asked her if I could sit next to her, she patted the seat, and said ‘You are an actress.” I said ‘No, I’m not.” “Yes you are.” “No, I am a writer.”
We rode in silence.
After awhile I asked her if she was going to Omega and she smiled a smirky-ish smile. “You don’t know who I am, do you?” “No, I’m sorry I don’t, who are you?”
Julia Cameron was going to be leading a course on “The Artist’s Way” and when I told her that I was heading for “Proprioceptive Writing” she said “No, that’s not for you, you’ll be joining my class.” “I don’t think so”, said I.
Julis was right. I already lit candles and wrote to Brandenburg Concertos without realizing this was a proprioceptive thing…and so I dropped out and slid into Julia’s class.
A friendhsip was born. We lunched and meandered and eye balled, head to head about life and love and creativity. And she never dropped her position of “You are an actress:” and I never dropped mine of “I am a writer.”
Maybe both, maybe none, maybe in another life, maybe not, but a friendhsip was born.
The Universe is most mysterious and breath-takingly wondrous.