Permission, Trespassing, Inspiration… and Pie

“It is easier to beg for forgiveness than to ask for permission”

This quote is attributed to Grace Hopper, a crusty old broad who, if given the choice, I’d want to sit next to at most dinner parties. Except she’s dead.

It should be attributed to my husband since he swears by it, lives it and quotes it almost daily.

He’s also pretty crusty and he breaks the rules. Rules are just suggestions to him. Gentle recommendations that are made to be broken. I find that quality sexy in a person. In men in particular. Really sexy. (I’m going to see if he’s still at his desk and tell him so. I’ll be back in…thirty…)

So sorry about that. Please forgive me.
Anyhow…

When you see a No Trespassing sign do you turn around or do you keep going? I keep going. I can’t help it.

I trespassed the shit out of my hikes around the hills of Soquel this week and it unleashed my inspiration.

My pup and I explored all sorts of forbidden paths, trails and otherwise off-limits parts of this gorgeous backcountry. Several Ted Kaczynski’s unleashed their hounds on us (no biggie, my dog is a one-woman welcoming committee, like the head of the local PTA, and the hounds all loved her. They’ve organized a bake sale and are coming over for tea at three.)

We happened upon a babbling brook, found someone’s abandoned Airstream trailer, stopped, kept from making eye contact, and turned around when we came across a guy, in the middle of nowhere, sitting in his junk heap of a pick-up truck, staring at us while he listened to a banjo strum slowly on the radio.
I’m not kidding.

Undeterred, we kept on walking the road less traveled (in the other direction), and two things came to mind.

In LA I powerwalk. I try to notice my surroundings but most days I’m focused on completing my 10,000 steps and getting my day started. These hikes among the pines, oaks, and lush green hills are food for my soul. I walk slowly, inhaling the scent of the moist, dark earth, moss, wet grass and the occasional field of wildflowers.

One road we trespassed on became so steep in the middle that I had to practice my yoga breathing in order to keep my heart INSIDE of my chest where it belongs when I noticed all of the delicious smells I’d been enjoying were gone. That’s just one of the things I hate about cardio (there are at least 500 more. I have a list.), it robs you of your senses.

My mouth was open so wide, gasping for air like a naked astronaut on the surface of Mars—that I couldn’t smell a thing.

So, number one: You must walk at a leisurely pace in order to smell the roses, so to speak. A full sensory experience cannot be had at 135 beats per minute.

Number two: Nothing interesting or noteworthy happens on the beaten path. It’s the safe route. Well traveled. Crowded actually. Every rock has been turned, every idea hatched.

I am convinced that in order to reach inspiration you must NEVER ask permission because more than likely—the answer will be NO.

Nope. You must trespass in life—then beg for forgiveness…then bring pie.

Carry on
xox