I joined other Angelenos who trekked to Inspiration Point to take in the first sunset of the year.
On the way up, we passed a man and a woman on a bench who were caught up in the joy of a marriage proposal and acceptance.
Like that couple looking forward to their future together, the rest of us at Inspiration Point turned our faces to the west, and embraced the year to come.
Walk #35 of the Secret Stairs book was heavy on the religion front. It took us through an area of Hollywood that had in the twenties been the home of a number of religious movements that had also developed housing for their followers.
First up was the Vedanta Temple, an attractive if slightly forbidding edifice. We encountered a foreign gentleman outside who informed us that the Temple includes living quarters for about ten persons. He stated that he himself had been a guest there for the previous two weeks, but gave no additional context.
From the Vedanta Society we moved on along some steep hills and past some interesting architecture.
After going up a short flight of stairs, we ended up to my surprise on Alcyona Terrace, right in front of the home that Thomas' friend Daren had lived in when the two of them met as four-year-olds.
I sat on the steps and reflected on the passage of time.
Before it could turn into another Proust moment, we moved on up the street to see a number of buildings all related to the Theosophical Society, an eastern religion whose southern California headquarters, named "Krotona", were located here from 1912-1926.
The original bungalows and apartments erected for Theosophical Society followers are still there. The original Krotona building is also now an apartment complex. We walked in and saw an attractive central courtyard with one lone koi manning a pond.
Thinking that we might bond around the common experience of being pets, I tried to make eye contact with the koi, but I wasn't sure whether he (she?) noticed me. Koi tend to be inscrutable.
Leaving the koi, we continued our walk past more former Krotona buildings, and then past a Spanish Revival castle that had once been the home of Barbara Stanwyck.
In a yard, we noticed a gorgeous egg sculpture.
At the end of the loop, we continued on to Gower and walked in the direction of the Hollywood sign to Carmen Place, so that we could stop at the Monastery of the Angels, a Dominican nunnery where Teresa bought some pumpkin bread baked by the sisters.
My owner initially cruelly required me to wait outside, but the kind ladies running the gift shop insisted to her that she go back out to get me and carry me inside with her. You can always trust a religious order to stand up for the small and powerless.
He tends to hover over me, anticipating my needs and smoothing my way.
But we both know that it's high time for me to learn how to deal with obstacles on my own.
He's trying to learn to let go.
After my heartbreak of not fitting in, I was glad to have a soothing get-together with Bruno.
Bruno is quiet and diminutive like me. Actually, he's more diminutive. And, whereas I look like a common well-fed lamb, Bruno has an exotic high-cheekboned look.
In his bearing he reminds me of an aristocratic llama.
Being with Bruno is relaxing because we share the same sensibilities. He is very attuned to his owner. Which, obviously, is something I can relate to.
When you come down to it, each dog has his own definition of la dolce vita.
-I will try not to poop in the living room.
-I will try to be more friendly to other dogs.
-I will support universal health coverage.
-Exercise, exercise, exercise!
When I went out this morning I noticed some crows active nearby.
That didn't faze me. Nor did I feel the need to run after them (even though I have heard it suggested that crows are the new squirrels).
As the me-generation guru Fritz Perls put it:
I do my thing and you do your thing / I am not in this world to live up to your expectations / And you are not in this world to live up to mine / You are you / And am I / And if by chance we find each other / It's beautiful.
The tree stands short and proud. Kind of like me.
Also like me, it has witnessed violence -- in its case, the scurrilous attack by vandals upon the neighboring garbage can.
I decided to sniff around to try to understand how the tree could put up with such violence and still keep serving bravely in its post.
At first I thought that the cigarette butts littered across the grass -- perhaps left by the perpetrators as they wrapped the garbage can in pink paint that symbolized something or other that mattered at the time -- were the important clues.
But when I stepped back, I saw that in the big picture the cigarette butts were too small to be seen. And even the graffiti on the garbage can blended into the tranquil overall picture.
Everything* --the tree, the bench, the ocean, the garbage can, the sky, the bushes, and even insignificant me -- is all part of the tapestry of the bluff.
*Almost everything, that is: Rest in peace, my squirrel comrades. You are not forgotten.
Sometimes the world can seem so cruel.
When I arrived at the bluffs last night I saw Dolce and Max playing together. Black and white, ebony and ivory, perfect harmony.
I looked at their owners. Dressed in black and white, they matched Max and Dolce, and incidentally coordinated with one another as well.
Then I looked at my owner. Pink and olive. A terrible match for my fur. And obviously not coordinated with the other owners either.
It's hard enough being a dog who's not great at playing wrestling games or running after balls. Why do I also have to have the misfit parent?
Sure, it's all in my own head. But it's still hard to be the dog who doesn't fit in.
I turned away and walked over to the edge of the bluffs, away from the pink and olive, black and white.
I drank deeply of the ocean breeze and thought of my dinner waiting for me at home.
I thought of all the dogs who don't have dinner waiting, and of all the dogs whose owners are worse-dressed than mine.
I thought about how much my owner loves me, and I decided that maybe it was time for us to go home together and investigate the dinner situation.
