Beauty and Human Goodness at Land's End, San Francisco

Fall time is the warmest time of the year in San Francisco. When I used to lived in the city, Land's End was my go-to place to clear my mind. I would roll up a fat joint, hop on the 18 and go cruising down the Great Highway along Ocean Beach. Once I would get to Land's End, I would go barefoot and wander amongst eucalyptus and cypress trees, and fresh ocean air.

On the trail, you often encounter a whole melting pot of human expression: corporate people in suits talking animatedly on their cell phones, homeless people with shopping carts, tourists from all around the world taking selfies, the tech industry people wearing bright neon shorts and Patagonia jackets, surfers in wetsuits, hippie people in dreads and tie-dye, elderly Asian people walking quietly by themselves. I love seeing the world from a sociological lens. We are so fascinating.

Today, my friend and I caught the sunset out here today. The weather was a comfortable 65 degrees with minimal wind.

I love watching the birds fly here. You can see how relaxed their wings are, letting the wind currents sweep them upside down, in a spiral, and downwards without resistance. Such freedom and surrender. I could watch quietly for hours.

During one of my chapters living in the city, an existential crisis led me to quit my job at Starbucks without any backup plan of what was next. Then, a week later, I got a letter from the Dept. of Public Health saying that I had a month to move out of my moldy apartment building due to toxic environmental conditions that proved hazardous to my health. So for the next few months while I struggled to bounce back financially, I would be crashing on my friend's couches or in their backyards. Occasionally, I headed to Land's End. I would find a private little area surrounded by dense shrubs and cool sand, falling asleep to the sound of ocean waves. What I love is that there are so many parts of this area that is mostly untouched, yet offer beautiful views of the ocean.

At one point on the trail today, a fire truck and pick-up truck with a sign that said "Ocean Rescue" pulled up next to us, asking if we saw anyone in the water. Apparently, someone had gotten stuck out in the ocean, lost their kayak, and needed to be rescued. I proceeded to watch 5-6 rescue men in wetsuits climb out of the truck, high-fiving each other and coordinating logistics. They were so focused and sincere. People on the trails started gathering around, talking amongst themselves with concern for the stranded person and curiosity on how they could help if the rescue team needed them. I suddenly became teary-eyed, much to the amusement of my friend. I've witnessed so much human suffering in my personal life and in those I've served over the years that when human goodness emerges, it's deeply meaningful and powerful for me. When someone is in need, it often awakens and brings people together. Even in a time where we live in the silos of our own phone and we're taught to be afraid of strangers or what pathogens people have that might harm us. When I'm out in public, I try to heal some of this social isolation by making eye contact and having meaningful social exchange with those around me. A simple gift we can give others is our own relaxed presence. It invites others to feel safe and comfortable to be themselves. I feel this way with my friend @mada.

Music, writing stories, art, and taking photos kept me sane growing up. I would also see human goodness happen all the time, and focusing on those moments impacted how I showed up in the world. I would see people authentically acknowledging each other's presence in the line at the Post Office or at the coffee shop, or towards a construction worker working hard on the roads. Crowds of people cheering and celebrating together on matters of a shared cause. Tuning into the human condition helped heal the stark loneliness I felt at home.

I always thought, if such beautiful and simple acts of service occur every day, then life is so much more than what I think it is. Life is abundant with possibility and hope. It's merely a matter of paying attention and being willing to let it in.