in case you were wondering, a tibetan wedding ceremony performed by a lama is just like a jewish affair, only the mumbling is in tibetan,not hebrew. and the lama wears orange robes, prayer bead bracelets, and a bling-bling gold watch that could knock your eye out.
that’s what i learned after snaking my car down the twists and turns of highway 1 along the pacific ocean, then sliding on foot down a 1/4 mile gravel trail that could double as a skiing course to a house perched at the edge of a cliff. magnificent, yes; heart pounding, you bet.
apparently, i’m officially too old for roughing it Big Sur-style. our room at the inn would have suited abe lincoln, complete with unlockable heavy wooden doors, no television, no telephone, no cell phone signal, and virtually no lights. nothing to do but sit in the darkness and talk with my husband, the lord & master. and after 20 plus years, what is there left to say? “what time is it?” “did you hear that?” “i think it’s an animal.” “is the door shut all the way?” “you check,” “i just sat down. you check.” “what time is it?”
at least we got the last room with a private bathroom. as troweled on in that all natural dimness, i’m fairly sure my makeup rivaled bozo’s. though this super enlightened esalen loving, meditation chanting, gong ringing crowd was cosmetically challenged anyway. the iPhone sent email wedding invitation warned, and i quote, “please not fancy.” okay. so i wore two bracelets instead of my usual armload, plus a necklace, earrings, and a mere one ring per hand. simple.
never have i been happier to return to san francisco and the cool, cool, cool of the foggy summer. and piling on all the baubles i want. who says things can’t make you happy?