the spell of the staycation

This past weekend I embarked on what hopefully will be the beginning of an annual tradition. I went on a staycation; staying close to home but experiencing it from a different angle. Traveling a few short miles across the Golden Gate, I took the first turnoff, and checked in at the newly restored Fort Baker, now called “Cavallo Point”.

What better way to spend the fourth of July than at the transformed army base in my backyard? For three blissful days I inhabited a world where soldier housing and marching grounds have morphed into a restorative retreat center, complete with a healing center, spa, and basking pool. What was once a new military base in 1905 is now a new luxurious eco hotel in 2008. I spent the weekend living and envisioning a world in which military bases become obsolete and are converted into retreat and educational centers.

I went on my staycation with my girlfriend and two other queer San Francisco couples. This, too, was part of the magic. Three years ago, three of us were becoming friends, and all of us were single. This staycation was the first outing for us together as couples. The ghosts and spirits of place seemed happy to welcome us, and I felt the power of three in the relaxed way that conversation flowed, laughter erupted, and we eased into time alone and together.

On the Fourth of July, we walked up the hill as the night fell to find a place to watch the fireworks and happened on a spot where we could see them from Sausalito, Napa, Marin, Berkeley, Oakland, and just barely over the fog of San Francisco. Fireworks behind fog look and sound like a city under siege…like bombs bursting in air. Watching my beloved city across the water being eerily lit in red and fog, like smoke, swirling with each boom was an experience I won’t soon forget. Especially given that I was watching this while so much of our state is still burning.

Usually I spend the fourth of July at home, where the Mission district looks and sounds like a war zone. My guess is my neighborhood would win hands down in the contest for most illegal and dodgy number of fireworks going off per block. I watch anxiously from my deck, hoping and praying that sparks don’t fall and catch my roof on fire, making sure the hose is within easy reach. Meanwhile, the sound and light of explosions is constant in the night sky as well as the sound of police sirens going this way and that.

Standing on the hill across the bay, flowers of fire blooming above the hills across the bay in all directions, explosions lighting the city behind a dark fog bank, I wasn’t worried about where the hose was and I wasn’t on edge hearing howls of terrified neighborhood dogs. From across the bay, I was awestruck. We entertain others for miles with brilliant and inventive fireworks. We remodel forts into hotels serving up organic fare from local farms. Our creativity seems limitless. Breathing into that night sky, I prayed for peace and I prayed for transformations of all kinds, beyond my imagining.

Three lesbian couples go a few miles from home, with the tip of the Golden Gate always in sight and the city shimmering in view according to the whim of the moving curtains of fog. At least once an hour there is an exclamation of gratitude from somebody for the beauty we surrounded by, and by the incredible feeling of peace that emanates from this renovated fort. We watch fireworks together, imagining a future where fireworks are the only man-made explosions that light up the sky of cities and towns around the world. We laugh, feast, throw the tarot, take hikes and bask around the pool. We love.

There’s many ways to do spell work. The best is living it.