I’ve stayed in many AirBNB rentals and most are sterile as hotel rooms, stripped of pictures, refrigerator magnets and other clues about the life that takes place there after you leave.
But once in a while, if you’re lucky, an AirBNB is a window into another person’s heart. That was the case for a recent stay in Muir Beach in a seaside apartment where art, pottery, teapots, hand-woven blankets, African drums and sculptures collected for a lifetime were on full display, along with family photographs and remembrances of special times.
Each piece of art was lovingly selected and carefully placed on shelves, tables and windowsills. I found myself wondering about the story behind each piece. Who sculpted Leticia, an indigenous woman in a clay canoe filled with lilies, roses and sunflowers? Where did the stone sculpture of a nude woman come from, and what inspired someone drape a seashell necklace around her? And what about the impossibly delicate blue-and-white tea set with handles in the shape of dragons?
The bookshelves were filled with poetry about finding your purpose and place in life. As someone in my 50s starting on a new chapter of my life as an artist, I felt comforted by the presence of a woman who forged a different path for herself. And who deeply believes in female empowerment and love.
It turns out the homeowner is a friend of the magnificent Alice Walker, who wrote a poem about her that ends like this:
But then,
In the night, in
The darkness
We love so much
She lies down
Like the rest of us,
To sleep
& angels come
As they do
To us
& give her
Fresh dreams
(They are really always the old
ones, blooming further.)...
Who knows
Where the newness
to old life
Comes from?
Suddenly
It appears.
Babies are caught by
hands they assumed
were always waiting.
Ink streaks
From the
Pen
Left dusty
On
The shelf.
This is the true wine of
astonishment:
We are not
Over
When we think
We Are.
— Alice Walker
From “My Friend Yeshi”
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