Summer 1982. Jay and I were backpacking through Europe on a $5-a-day budget. With our Eurail pass in hand, we often took night trains to save money, sleeping in our seats or on the floors of train stations. It was an adventure of improvisation and discovery.
Despite my parents’ warnings not to go to Turkey (“Kids are getting thrown into jail!”), we couldn’t resist the allure of its exotic promise. And exotic it was. Though we did visit a police station once, it was only for tea—a gesture of hospitality from the officers.
In Istanbul, we discovered a budget traveler’s secret: for $2 a night, we could sleep on a hotel rooftop with the staff. Those nights were unforgettable. Overlooking the city, we partied with our non-English-speaking hosts, sharing too much Raki (a licorice-flavored liqueur akin to Greek Ouzo, which we’d sworn off). It was impossible to refuse their warm camaraderie.
On a train leaving Istanbul, we met another couple who raved about their luxurious stay in a five-star hotel. Yet, we knew our experience had been more prosperous. The rooftop’s bird’s-eye view opened a secret world, revealing a deeper connection to the city and its people.
Love and Lessons from the Heights
Rooftop vistas and mountain peaks have long played a significant role in my life. Early on, they became a metaphor for perspective and connection. One of my first dates with Jay involved climbing the steep roof of the Victorian house where I lived in the turret. Perched high above the ground, I started to fall for someone who shared my urge to see life from new heights.
Years later, during a tricky time in our relationship, we decided to reroof our house ourselves. We worked side by side for weeks, tearing off the old shingles and piecing together a new roof. Ironically, reroofing became a symbol of rebuilding the foundation of our partnership.
From the Rooftops of Istanbul to the Towers of Loreto Bay
Now, in Loreto Bay in 2025, the most sacred space of our casa is the rooftop tower. Loreto Bay’s charm lies in its vibrant foliage, colorful casitas, and meandering stone pathways. But the rooftop—that’s the true treasure. Jay and I carry our coffee to the tower every morning to watch the sunrise. We bring our dinner up in the evenings and dine while dusk dawns.
This elevated perspective offers more than beauty; it allows us to step back from the hustle below and feel deeply connected to the world. Perhaps this is what spiritual teachers mean by being “in the world but not of it.”
From the rooftops of Istanbul to the towers of Loreto Bay, elevated perspectives have always brought something more. Back then, in Istanbul, the city unfolded before us, offering a chance to connect with both its people and its hidden beauty.
Now, in Loreto, the connection feels different but equally profound. The rooftop tower of our casita isn’t so much a place where I feel connected to the people of Loreto Bay—it’s where I feel most connected to myself, to Jay, and to the world at large. There’s something about the quiet of early mornings or the stillness of twilight that invites a deep sense of presence, a reminder of the vastness and intimacy of life.
Time Towers: A Mindful Perspective
In Loreto, the rooftop towers are defined by pillars and covered roofs, often with seating. But I’ve noticed that these towers don’t just define space—they define time.
On the spiritual path, time is a curious subject. Does it even exist? The more I look, the clearer it becomes that now is the only time. Yet slowing down our busy minds to feel the fullness of now often requires practice.
This is where the concept of ‘time towers’ comes in. While traditional meditation helps us slow down, so can simply sitting in a space for an unspecified period of time where we intentionally disconnect from distractions and reconnect with a broader perspective.
On our rooftop, Jay and I don’t always “meditate” in the traditional sense; sometimes, we simply sit in a little time tower with no other agenda—and it’s enough. By simply creating space to observe the present moment from a detached view, we invite time to slow down, presence to thicken.
Reaching for Peaks
I’ve been reading Force of Nature, by Joan Griffin, a book about three fifty-something women hiking the John Muir Trail. It reminds me of when Jay and I climbed Mt. Langley—our most ambitious climb yet.
The journey was riddled with challenges; after hurrying off the peak due to gale-force winds, we discovered that they had been enough to blow our staked-down, laden-with-belongings tent into a lake a mile away!
Retrieving them was only the beginning; with everything soaking wet and temperatures dropping below freezing, we realized we couldn’t stay another night. After climbing all day, we had to hike six miles back to our car at night—with only one flashlight between us.
Still, reaching that peak—even if only briefly—was transformative. The act of persevering through discomfort deepened my understanding of why we seek these heights: Peaks—whether physical or metaphorical—teach us resilience and perspective even when they demand everything we have to give.
Create Your Own Time Towers
Rooftops, peaks, or any vistas also help calm the mind and expand our awareness. Instead of being swept up in day-to-day worries, they invite us to detach a little—to let our attention both take it all in and soften, expanding in all directions simultaneously, like the sky.
The next time you find yourself with a view—whether on a rooftop, hillside, or park bench—experiment with this practice: let your gaze soften and allow your attention to expand outward in all directions simultaneously, beyond your small self. Create your own “time tower.”
Moments like these—where we dare to shift our perspective or slow down—can transform our lives. It doesn’t take much time—just a few intentional minutes—but those minutes can create a foundation for peace and joy that lasts far longer.
Good News I’m thrilled to share several updates this week:
New Reviews! My book has received a slew of new reviews from readers around the globe, and I’m getting close to the magic “50” review Amazon milestone! If you’ve enjoyed Naked in the Now, your review would mean the world—it helps spread this message of playfulness and presence.
Write Now Mind. The January 2025 session is underway, but there’s still time to join! Join here. If you’ve participated before, feel free to dive back in. Newcomers, shoot me an email first to ensure you understand what’s involved.
Write by the Sea Starting Jan. 7, my in-person Loreto writing workshops will resume weekly for the month of January, 2025: Tuesdays, 8:30–10 AM in the Activity Room on the main paseo of Loreto Bay. Open to the public! Email me if you’re in the area and want to learn more.
It’s always a joy to share these sacred practices with you. Thank you for being part of this journey! Let’s keep climbing rooftops, creating time towers, and expanding our perspectives together.
Our “Time Tower” and the rooftop view from our casa in Loreto Bay
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