Sushi and a Gas Station

Traveling into the mountains in California is a wonderous experience, so much so that leaving this state without doing so would seem like a huge loss.

This past week I had the pleasure of exploring more of Southern California through the means of dinner dates and beach appointments. Monday night we headed into an area about 10 or so miles from Los Feliz to this twisty mountain communities that were covered in homes, big and small, delicately placed in the side of the hills. Again, I saw these similiar communities as we traveled to Erwin's neighborhood (group picutre above) and later to Laguna Beach. Those of you who are familiar with the name may be familiar with the MTV show that was probably one of the second worst reaility shows I've ever seen, Big Brother being number 1.

As we made our way down through the mountains to the beach on Saturday, finishing up a week of various traveling in the area, we passed a gas station that served sushi.

Polar opposites.

I believe that in order to purchase raw fish from the same place you purchase unleaded fuel there would have to be a strong bribe or a significant mental impairment. What would even convince the store owner that this combination would even fiancially thrive?

Then I started to gaze at the houses that covered the tips of the hills and thought about the paradox of such a building location. Why build your house on land that has the capabilities to become a structure sled if rain waters persist? Why would so many people build in such unsafe territory? Sure, California doesn't get a lot of rain, that is for sure, but is it worth the risk?

Then I thought about where I had been this past week. Going to have meals at these two places in the hills, the gorgeous mountains of California, and being in complete awe of glancing out a window and seeing a view that would continually, day by day, take your breath away.

The view.

Sometimes the risk is worth the view. Like this Californian experience, the challenge, the growing, the intense opporitunity of a lifetime. The risk and fear of support raising, the uncertainity, the seperation of country comforts, it's all worth the view. Because as we cruised along the highway on a Saturday afternoon I was reminded of something I said last summer.

"I can't believe I almost said no."

In the future, I believe these memories and experiences will remind me of the greater causes that life is short and rich. Savor the moments of each day. And when called to do the uncertain, to have faith to pursue the direction without knowing the destination.

Living each moment, laughing everyday, and loving beyond words.