Beautiful Cambria is a landing place for many wanderers seeking to sit for a while and just be.

“A while” often turns into forever. Comfort sometimes gives way to urges to adapt the world to align with individual vision, religion, or fantasy.

It Is Sometimes Said

“I like the life here. Perhaps I can add just a touch of my favorite spice to the mix.”

“But I do not want your spice, thank you very much. ‘Here’ is perfect! Though, it would be nice to add a pinch of color, a tiny wisp of culture, a few soft bars of favored music. Who could possibly object?” 

“No! Thank you but, NO! I do not want your pinches and wisps. They clash with my dapples and murmurs, and your humming drowns out the flutters I cherish.”

“Frankly, all that pinching, fluttering, humming and wisping is becoming just too much to bear. The creatures who truly own this place are becoming fearful and anxious, and they should be held above any that came later.”

“Aren’t we all creatures, after all? What places one above another? We can hum, dapple, murmur, and pinch, so too can we build and grow.”

“But if we all grow as we wish, then what happens to what was? This incursion must be carefully managed. I shall do the managing.”

“I do not like to be managed! Do not manage me!! I will manage you!!!”

“Your managing does not agree with my managing!” 

“How, then, will we manage?”

“Actually, it is not you or I who needs managing. It is THEM!!! Let’s join together to make it so, for we know what is right for all!”

“What? I can’t hear you over all the clamoring, managing, dappling, murmuring, pinching, spicing and fluttering. Perhaps we are agreeing?”

“Agreeing? That can’t be! There are still others who are trying to join in, and that can’t be good!”

“Others? Are there not enough of us already doing all those ‘ings’? We shall soon all be dehydrated from the objecting, and not a drop to slake us all!”

“Perhaps it is time for a good rest, to clear our minds and restore our balance.”

“Rest? I can’t possibly rest inside the cacophony of others. And all the light is blinding me!. I fear I will never rest until it is dark and quiet.”

“I fear you just described death.” 

“That is fine with me.”

“But it is not fine with me.”

And so it goes. Any questions?

Let dreamers dream what worlds they please
Those Edens can’t be found
The sweetest flowers
The fairest trees
Are grown in solid ground
We’re neither pure nor wise nor good
We’ll do the best we know
We’ll build our house and chop our wood
And make our garden grow
And make our garden grow

Make Our Garden Grow from “Candide” – Leonard Bernstein

Enjoy this powerful performance of the finale “MAKE OUR GARDEN GROW”