My most vivid memories of the years I was fortunate enough to have a fellowship at CASBS in the late 70s, mid-80s and 2004-5 are organized around the flow of each day, so perfectly attuned to that incomparably restful and beautiful site.
Let’s choose a sunny morning in early February, when my friends back East were hunkering down in snow and ice. I would ride my bike up the hill to the Center, admiring the miner’s lettuce and new shoots of green grass on the side of the road, as well as wildflowers beginning to spring up.
Arriving at the top of the Hill tired but happy, I’d park my bike outside my study – luckily, my study was one of those with a view over the campus to the far hills. If it was a rainy year, there would be water in Lake Lagunita, the sun would dance off the surface and there would be sailboats. Most often, and more recently, however, there was not much water, or even a dry bed.
A rather tame bobcat would walk past my window on his morning stroll; the bees would be busily pollinating the Pt. Reyes plants outside on the terrace. A hawk might be circling over the trees looking for an unwary ground squirrel.
Pulling my attention away from the scenery with some effort, I’d get down to work. Writing was always easiest and most productive at the Center, compared with anywhere else I’ve ever been. The first Fellowship, there were no phones in the studies, which meant that it truly was a sanctuary, and very quiet.
I’d take coffee breaks once or twice, going over to say hi to the folks in the kitchen. When it was time for lunch, I looked forward to fascinating conversation on unpredictable topics. Because we are imagining a sunny day, we were all outside, gathered in the sunshine, basking in the beauty of the place.
One of the best things about the Center is the way all the Fellows (and their occasional guests and spouses) mingle in the conversation, without regard to specific discipline or field of study. I learned from historians, students of religion and journalism, behavioral scientists who were in one of the biological sciences, as well as each of the social sciences. Psychology and sociology always seemed to be especially well-represented, but no one dominated the conversation.
After lunch there might be a seminar where one of us would present our work. Or I’d pick up a book that the great Library staff had retrieved for me from the Stanford Library, or one I had found in the Center Library, and sit down by the fountain in the courtyard to read it. If I weren’t careful I might doze off, but even the dozing brought productive ideas!
Later in the afternoon, I would often go for a walk in the hills behind the Center, admiring the vistas, counting the cows, watching the fog roll in over the coastal hills. In the early years, the “walk” was actually a run, followed by an invigorating shower open to the sky in the locker room.
When the sun began to go down, I’d take one last look over Lagunita to the light on the far hills, mount my bike, and ride slowly back down to rejoin the rest of the world.
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