Purposeful aimlessness

On my wanderings yesterday, I found the Goodwill store and bought a pair of jeans and my newest favorite sweater. The clerk informed me it was buy two, get one free and I quickly added the silken, princess line, blue-print shell I had been eyeing, but had passed over because I didn’t want to spend $3.99.

The weather in Berkeley is funny. If you’re in the sun and strolling up any of the hills, a sleeveless shirt is plenty warm enough. At the same time, if you’re sitting in the shade or hanging out in an open-air establishment, wearing a sweater is a perfectly comfortable thing to do.

I disappointed my aunt and uncle today when I called them and told them that I would be at the Bay Area Rapid Transit (BART) station in their town in time to go to church tomorrow, rather than arrive this evening.

My action surprised me. Last night, I had been a bit lonesome as I made my dinner in the third floor community kitchen and ate alone in the TV room next door, watching a snippet of the movie “Bridgett Jones’ Diary.”

Still, I chose solitude, and took myself this afternoon to the Berkeley Rose Garden, some eight to nine blocks up Euclid Street. I sat there, comfortable in my new sweater, and leafed through the thesis paper of my Dance of the Women’s Spirit class instructor, which I had successfully found on the library shelves after a search of the online catalog. I read the first 19 pages of a novel “Gillead,” required reading for my “Teacher as Prophet” class, which I purchased at the bookstore in the morning, after figuring out all my required class reading using the Graduate Theological Union website. I congratulated myself that I am making my way through some of the introductory chores of a graduate student.

When I tired of reading, rather than heading back to the dorm, I walked further and took a left down the hill to see where it would bring me. I’ve been checking out the neighborhood on foot in widening circles for the last two weeks.

Somehow, I seem to be on a mission to explore this place that surrounds me. With no thought beyond the present moment, I walk in and out of the various retail establishments, wondering how they make their rent and marveling at how much consumers are willing to spend. I pass by the Cheeseboard, a cheese cooperative on Shaddock Street, which features beautiful cheeses at $16 a pound and sports lines of 30 or more people who want to purchase their pizza for $17 a pie. I walk in and out of numerous bakeries where single products--croissants, pastries and cheesecakes--range from $1.75 to $5. I duck in and out of grocery stores and pass by the Progresso soup for $3.29 a can.

I am bold in my exploration. I walk past a bar that is filled with people watching television and walk in just to see what has captured their attention. I contemplate a beer and the first California Bears away game with exuberant football fans and pass it up in favor of my solitude. I try on hats that range from $34 to $225 and understand that I have to do something to protect myself from the sun beating down on my head.

I have no aim in my wanderings, but somehow I feel there is a purpose to it.

Perhaps I finally understand that life is where we live it, in each moment, with each breath, in harmony with our current surroundings and ourselves.