On to Suburbia

I took a course about yoga and psychiatry and it was awful. I could not meditate with the group and found the day painful and intolerable. The best parts were a walk through the city early this morning for espresso and a scone, and the hour for lunch walking around Market street trying to find the sunny side of the street to stay warm. San Francisco is as cold and fresh today as it was hot and heavy the first day I arrived. I am sorry that the course I took that held so much promise turned out to be a disappointment. Usually at this conference it is very inspiring to expose myself to all the new research in the field and I just wander to different talks and try to learn something by chance. This time I took two courses and missed most of the first one and gritted my teeth through the second. I am ready to leave the conference for this year, except that I purchased some 100 hours of online talks; I expect to review them and catch up with what I have missed, as if I had actually gone to the lectures. I have spent many hours at the conference this year, but have not appreciated it as much as I wish I had. I should have looked more systematically for Ecuadorian psychiatrists, but perhaps I really don't want to meet one anyway. Perhaps I want nothing to do with psychiatry next year, perhaps I want a break. I do not feel burned out, just ready for a new direction.

My hotel was called 'Hotel Diva'. It was just a matchstick box of a room, serviceable but not inviting; a place to sleep, shower and change. It sounded good when I booked it, and it was in a wonderful location near Union Square and six minutes to the convention center by foot. And lots of restaurants and Starbucks and theatre and shops. Monica picked me up and brought me to her home in Los Altos Hills, where I visited with my niece and nephew and caught up with their lives. It was good to hear Lorna's excitement about Ecuador and all her positive energy. I have not been feeling it lately, and it is almost too much of an effort to tell people about our plans. The agony involved in the preparation for our year almost negates any enthusiasm I might muster for the adventure. I certainly hope that changes soon.

Monica has moved many times; from Versailles to Cyprus to Paris to Oxford to Weisbaden to Los Altos. I am not sure how she has managed, but clearly she is accomplished at moving her household. I think not working full-time in addition to moving makes a difference. I wonder if I had a month or so just to devote to organizing the move without going to the office daily, perhaps it would be a different experience. I will be working less and less these next weeks, so I am resolved to focus my energy on the move.