Last week, we stopped in a college town, San Luis Obispo, on our way south.
At a local coffee shop at the end of Higuera Street, I waited in line for a dark brew for me and a cafe mocha for my husband.
Unlike the franchisian assembly line that is Starbucks, this establishment had one (yes, one) old lady barista doing everything–taking payment and making coffee. The process was glacial; I noticed my impatience and tried to tone it down by engaging in a conversation with the woman in front of me.
Her turquoise-rimmed glasses, magnifying dark and dancing eyes, emphasized her persona. Spiky hair, long flowing skirt and billowing blouse all said, ” Boomer-Hippie.”
We traded early morning polite conversation.
Where are you headed? she asked me.
Los Angeles, I replied.
Me too although I am going to Santa Monica, she added.
What are you doing there?
I’m taking a seminar on ….on…well…on energy.
Maybe it was her garb, maybe I had a momentary flash of ESP, but somehow, I knew she wasn’t attending a solar conference. Definitely not Chevron.
Are you a shaman? I blurted out on a hunch.
Why yes, I am, she said. How did you know that?
Oh, I muttered modestly, I feel your energy.
* * * * * * *
I love people with positive, silly, mystical, curious or intellectual energy. Always have, always will.
And so in Disneyland this past weekend, to celebrate my birthday, in the company of a 5 and 3 year-old and their 30-something parents, I sucked in more exuberant innocent energy than I have in several years.
At lunch at the darkened Blue Bayou Restaurant, listening to the splash of boats and screams of riders on the Pirates of the Caribbean ride, sitting around a table under a southern sky illuminated by tiny fireflies and a large harvest moon, and cooling down in the air conditioning after waiting outside in 95 degree heat, I joined in with my granddaughters who insisted that I, like they, MUST order a drink (albeit $7.00 but who cares?) with a glow cube.
A glow cube! How cool is that?
Our drinks arrived; we squealed with energy.