Today I started the day slow. no plan, no pressure. Just Ojai. That soft little town tucked into the hills like it’s hiding something sacred. I got a coffee and let myself wander. Let the sun warm me up. Let the quiet pull me in.
I stopped at a country market where a pair of baby turkeys greeted me like old friends. Inside, I ended up talking with the cashier about my California road so far. She asked where I’d been, smiled when I told her, and wished me luck in that way strangers do when they know you’re searching for something, even if they don’t ask what.
Next, I popped into a thrift shop and found a hat I didn’t know I needed until it was already mine. At the register, I picked up a bag to carry the day’s small unknowns, but the cashier stopped me. Said, “Here,” and handed me a tote from a local market. Just gave it to me. No reason, just kindness. And I don’t know. Maybe it was the timing, or maybe I was feeling cracked open already… but it made me want to cry a little.
After that, I wandered into a crystal shop. The kind of place that hums. The woman behind the counter had a calming energy, like she knew what to say and what not to. I told her more than I expected to. And as we stood there casually chatting and sharing stories a door opened and closed to an empty room on the other side of the store, another customer began to cry, something deep breaking loose in real time. We didn’t stare. We didn’t speak really. Just bore witness together. Quietly. Reverently. She had an experience that day no one could have predicted, one that she knows has changed her life.
I kept walking. Let the town hold me for a little while longer. Let the day shape itself without asking what it was supposed to be. On the drive home, I took the long way, curved around the hills and stopped at a pull-off above Lake Casitas. The light was brilliant and everything looked golden, the whole landscape had exhaled. And maybe I did too.
Now I’m back at the beach, sand in my shoes, salt in the air. Thinking about how sometimes you don’t need an itinerary. You just need space. Room to follow your own wonder. A good hat, a free tote, a stranger’s blessing. And a few hours of feeling like the world might still be kind.
