Heading North

On Saturday I head up to Big Sur, where we will sprinkle Natalie's ashes in the creek at Esalen. We are a small group, and we have received special permission to troop onto these sacred grounds in the middle of the day to spend some time thinking and praying for her in one of her favorite places on earth.
I am nervous.
I am nervous about what is going to come out of me as I drive up that winding, rugged coast on my own, and watch the ashes of my friend flow down the river. We spent so much time together there--soaking naked in hot tubs, dancing ecstatically in the halls, making art, walking through the sunflowers, raving on the cliff. I loved the crazy California she introduced me to, there. She always said she went to Big Sur on a family trip when she was 12 years old and spent the rest of her life trying to get back there--not quite certain where it was.
Her father--who felt uncomfortable with her life and her later friends, and will not attend her memorial later this month--will be there. So will her sister and Chris Price, the guru's wife, who spreads calm and beauty and enlightenment to all who lock eyes with her. I have fallen under the spell.
I will drive up the coast on Saturday and spend the night alone in some sad sack motel, thinking too much about her. I will get up early, hike the hills of Big Sur, eat a huge happy breakfast at Deetjens, skim some books at the Henry Miller library, and tap into the energy that made Natalie love the place. Then I will go and sing and tell stories about her, as she drifts down the creek and into the sea.