This past year was a rough year in many ways. It's a tough journey to try to grow wiser through the hardships of heartbreak, disappointment, love lost and gained, family lost and gained, and shifting dreams and aspirations. Half a year ago I was convinced that it was the best option to abandon my small life in the middle of relative nowhere (relative to cities, east coast, metro areas, cosmopolitania) and move on to what I assumed were bigger and better, greater things. School, relationship, family, a bar I wanted to go to, music, art, etc. etc. etc. My heart felt like it had been tossed into the washing machine with an old pair of sneakers, knocking the height and fluff out of it until it was flat and lifeless, devoid of spirit and inspiration. I lost two family members this past summer and cut out a toxic relationship with someone I felt like had been one of my best friends for the past year. It truly is the hardest part of breaking off (up) with someone to lose the companionship that comes with time spent together, drinking coffee and whiskey, reading articles and shit, and exploring beautiful places. It took watching a lot of episodes of Lost, spending time with good friends, and facing loss of life of loved ones to come to a place of acceptance and stillness about it. In retrospect, what was I doing but holding on to something I didn't want to let go of for fear of never finding it again. But it does come again, as time reveals over and over again, when in your most desperate moments of surrender, the universe, for lack of a better, non-heady alternative word, throws someone amazing at you and you have to grab hold, hang on, and let it happen. The potential for love again exists, when you least expect it, it rushes in.
And for family lost and gained, my Uncle died prematurely this past summer followed by the more timely death of my grandfather who was working on his 96th birthday at the time that it seems he just gave in and practiced his own form of surrender. My brother is getting married, my best friends are trying to have a baby, friends are marrying, friends are breaking up, falling in and out of love, moving on and moving up. Looking forward, staying put seems like the best course of action, letting the small town life develop, investing in what is already here and present, the people I love and am learning to love better, the potential for continued inspiration and movement forward. School is on hold, other opportunities elsewhere seem pale in comparison to where life is at now, and I'm happy to be standing still, allowing myself to be present in the most happiest of moments in a long time.
Tuesday, November 19, 2013
Wednesday, October 2, 2013
Reconnecting
I attended a wedding for one of my two best friends from growing up two falls ago. I hadn't had much connection with these people from my earlier life in a long time, people who now seemed like they might feel more like strangers than my closest confidantes, but our reunion proved to be inspiring in a number of ways. Recently my one friend decided to abandon her PhD program in English literature to pursue a career in publishing and found herself in between stages of life, a place I have been dwelling in for what seems like my entire post-college, "adult" life. The engaged friend was embarking on a new stage of life, but back into the same routine she had been doing before her marriage, and seemed to be at once freaked out by the prospect of becoming a "real adult" and excited to have her wedding over with so she could move on to actually living life with her new husband. The three of us friends ended up reconnecting almost as if no time had gone by at all, first at the wedding, and then with a visit that they arranged to see me while I was "taking some time off" at my parents house in North Carolina, once again unemployed from my seasonal job.
Once we started talking about the contents of our lives, I found myself being encouraged to write about my life, a life that I don't find interesting, but that maybe some other people might, even if it was only the three of us keeping up with each other's lives. I was having a conversation with a friend the other day where we were talking about all of the experiences we have had and places we have gone and how after they are through, the details disappear unless you write them down. So this is my attempt, I guess, at capturing a little of what details might be hidden in the everyday mundane, and the extraordinary experiences, that my life contains. If not for her encouragement, I wouldn't be writing at all. And they say, if you want to be a writer....write. Cheers.
Wednesday, May 8, 2013
Being alone 2005 and 2013
I had been in a bit of a funk for the last few weeks. Actually, probably for the past few years, but it hadn't gotten this anti-social and grumpy in awhile. I found myself dreading going to work, not wanting to see friends that I really love because I just didn't have the energy, and spending a lot of time at home watching Lost on netflix and trying to figure out how to get netflix to work on my now outdated super sleek computer that I'm currently writing this on, a gracious gift from my parents who don't seem to use it much anymore now that they both have i-pads and i-phones (I'm still in flip phone denial land). There weren't a whole lot of things bringing me up, I didnt feel depressed but I was on my way to just being really bummed out. So I did a lot of thinking about what might get me out of the "funk". I knew that I had an upcoming vacation on the way to meet up with my folks in California and hang out in Napa for a few days drinking wine, eating food, and getting some actual quality time together not on the phone (we only get to see each other twice a year). But I felt like I needed something immediate and it wasn't helping working in the garden, cooking food, meeting up with friends and trying to have drinks and engaging conversation. I had turned into the friend that doesn't give back-the taker I guess.
When I feel like this, I need something challenging, a test of myself to see what I've got inside me and try to get back to connecting with the version of myself that I love-a solo. I've done a few overnight solos before in the backcountry, but never with extended travel involved and never in a place I have never been before. Ever since I moved to Utah, I'd been craving a backpacking trip in Cedar Mesa by myself but never found the time, always prioritized other things, and also lost my nerve a few times at the last minute. I was going for it this time, just 3 days, 2 nights alone, traveling around 23 miles in that time. A pretty easy walk through Grand Gulch, via Kane Gulch entry and Bullet Canyons exit. The trip itself was amazing and a few weird things happened that I might write about in a later post, but what I thought about in the long evenings I spent alone was, I wonder how I felt, what I wrote and thought about the last time I did this for real, in 2005, on my Outward Bound course that led me into the job I have now. I pulled out my old journal that still sits on the top of my bookshelf, in an effort to remind myself that I am inspired, strong and courageous. Here is what I said in 2005, at Ice Lake, in Montana at the foot of one of the most beautiful, cool lakes and jagged peaks I'd ever camp at. Word for word, a few selections:
July 22, 2005
I awoke this morning a couple of times because of some light rain and then the sound and feeling of the wind rushing down the peaks that tower over me. Last night's sleep was overall very comfortable and I feel rested but still in need of more rest this morning. It's really interesting. I came into this solo experience filled with anxiety and afraid of the possibility of a repeat of my last solo. However, after a good night's rest and an hour or so of contemplation this morning, I feel a lot better about where I am in this moment. Whenever I start to feel lonely, I remind myself that in ten hours or so from now I will be again going to sleep to awake to another morning and then to be reunited with my group tomorrow afternoon. I keep hearing jets and planes flying overhead above the overcast cloud cover which seems to be breaking up as the day goes on. I keep thinking these plane are thunder but then I realize what they are and relax again.
Three or so pages of lists of places I want to go, careers to take, jobs to pursue, places I've been,
I am so surprised that this day has gone so well and feel blessed to be under this sky that is supplying sunlight and a cool breeze. I am so lucky and extremely fortunate to be where I am right now, allowed to have 36 hours to take for myself and to rest and heal my body before more course activity begins again....I wonder what I will hear from underneath my tarp tonight...Today I have been blessed with light, last time I was blessed with the challenge of darkness and found my weakness.
Two pages of contemplation on death and dying (not ready to share that).
Nighttime seems to be taking forever to come and although I am probably already tired enough to fall asleep I kind of want to see night descend before I go to bed.
END
When I read this again recently I realized, that 8 years ago though I had never been alone in the backcountry before, I thought the same thoughts I do now, of time and its slow pace, of what happens to us when we leave this world, of noticing the beauty around me and how small I feel in it, of confronting loneliness and dealing with it. Here is something I wrote in Cedar Mesa:
April 21, 2013
Manageable day so far. My knee hurts so I'm resting until dinner and then hope to hike to the Todie Canyon ruins this evening. My campsite is small and protected and I don't think I'll setup my tarp tonight (I did set it up eventually-a semblance of protection and security). Not freaked out or sad so far today, a bit lonely but enjoying the solitude. I wonder though if other people will come by.
This evening-is it evening (I don't wear a watch) I think it might be around 5-6 pm though the angle of the sun might suggest that I am enjoying the middle of the day. I feel lonely. I think the hardest thing about coming out here alone (and the whole point) is the relative inaccessibility of other people, though I know there are other groups in here. I had sort of wished that I might see someone come through here-where are they getting their water if not here?
I can do this, just need to let the fear in and then let it go.
Photo of me on course in 2005
The most striking thing to me reading through the entirety of my journals entries from these solos, was that I seemed much stronger when I was younger, but I didn't have the memory and experience of heartache, love gained and lost, and coming face to face with the realities of life versus what you dream it will be like. All I had were hopes and dreams and no real experience to test those, to see where they might go and how they might develop. And I had crushes and infatuations, not people I actually loved and then who slipped away from me as if I'd never had them in the first place. What I went into Cedar Mesa looking for was that person I was, to connect with her and force her to take the reins and lead me down the right path. But she doesn't exist anymore, so I can't refind her. All I can do is face who I am now, and look in the right direction hopefully led by those long evenings spent thinking and long night spent dreaming of mountain lions and Indians appearing before me and dreams I thought I lost but that are still there.
When I feel like this, I need something challenging, a test of myself to see what I've got inside me and try to get back to connecting with the version of myself that I love-a solo. I've done a few overnight solos before in the backcountry, but never with extended travel involved and never in a place I have never been before. Ever since I moved to Utah, I'd been craving a backpacking trip in Cedar Mesa by myself but never found the time, always prioritized other things, and also lost my nerve a few times at the last minute. I was going for it this time, just 3 days, 2 nights alone, traveling around 23 miles in that time. A pretty easy walk through Grand Gulch, via Kane Gulch entry and Bullet Canyons exit. The trip itself was amazing and a few weird things happened that I might write about in a later post, but what I thought about in the long evenings I spent alone was, I wonder how I felt, what I wrote and thought about the last time I did this for real, in 2005, on my Outward Bound course that led me into the job I have now. I pulled out my old journal that still sits on the top of my bookshelf, in an effort to remind myself that I am inspired, strong and courageous. Here is what I said in 2005, at Ice Lake, in Montana at the foot of one of the most beautiful, cool lakes and jagged peaks I'd ever camp at. Word for word, a few selections:
July 22, 2005
I awoke this morning a couple of times because of some light rain and then the sound and feeling of the wind rushing down the peaks that tower over me. Last night's sleep was overall very comfortable and I feel rested but still in need of more rest this morning. It's really interesting. I came into this solo experience filled with anxiety and afraid of the possibility of a repeat of my last solo. However, after a good night's rest and an hour or so of contemplation this morning, I feel a lot better about where I am in this moment. Whenever I start to feel lonely, I remind myself that in ten hours or so from now I will be again going to sleep to awake to another morning and then to be reunited with my group tomorrow afternoon. I keep hearing jets and planes flying overhead above the overcast cloud cover which seems to be breaking up as the day goes on. I keep thinking these plane are thunder but then I realize what they are and relax again.
Three or so pages of lists of places I want to go, careers to take, jobs to pursue, places I've been,
I am so surprised that this day has gone so well and feel blessed to be under this sky that is supplying sunlight and a cool breeze. I am so lucky and extremely fortunate to be where I am right now, allowed to have 36 hours to take for myself and to rest and heal my body before more course activity begins again....I wonder what I will hear from underneath my tarp tonight...Today I have been blessed with light, last time I was blessed with the challenge of darkness and found my weakness.
Two pages of contemplation on death and dying (not ready to share that).
Nighttime seems to be taking forever to come and although I am probably already tired enough to fall asleep I kind of want to see night descend before I go to bed.
END
When I read this again recently I realized, that 8 years ago though I had never been alone in the backcountry before, I thought the same thoughts I do now, of time and its slow pace, of what happens to us when we leave this world, of noticing the beauty around me and how small I feel in it, of confronting loneliness and dealing with it. Here is something I wrote in Cedar Mesa:
April 21, 2013
Manageable day so far. My knee hurts so I'm resting until dinner and then hope to hike to the Todie Canyon ruins this evening. My campsite is small and protected and I don't think I'll setup my tarp tonight (I did set it up eventually-a semblance of protection and security). Not freaked out or sad so far today, a bit lonely but enjoying the solitude. I wonder though if other people will come by.
This evening-is it evening (I don't wear a watch) I think it might be around 5-6 pm though the angle of the sun might suggest that I am enjoying the middle of the day. I feel lonely. I think the hardest thing about coming out here alone (and the whole point) is the relative inaccessibility of other people, though I know there are other groups in here. I had sort of wished that I might see someone come through here-where are they getting their water if not here?
I can do this, just need to let the fear in and then let it go.
Photo of me on course in 2005
The most striking thing to me reading through the entirety of my journals entries from these solos, was that I seemed much stronger when I was younger, but I didn't have the memory and experience of heartache, love gained and lost, and coming face to face with the realities of life versus what you dream it will be like. All I had were hopes and dreams and no real experience to test those, to see where they might go and how they might develop. And I had crushes and infatuations, not people I actually loved and then who slipped away from me as if I'd never had them in the first place. What I went into Cedar Mesa looking for was that person I was, to connect with her and force her to take the reins and lead me down the right path. But she doesn't exist anymore, so I can't refind her. All I can do is face who I am now, and look in the right direction hopefully led by those long evenings spent thinking and long night spent dreaming of mountain lions and Indians appearing before me and dreams I thought I lost but that are still there.Wednesday, April 24, 2013
I don't precisely remember the exact story or joke or whatever it was that I was discussing with my close friend, but somehow I came to the conclusion that, well, sometimes you end up with lambchops. Or 25 lbs of random elk meat that someone happened to think you of all the people he could have chosen deserved. Or you end up 15 lbs overweight after a month of straight eating, drinking, and partying when you thought you might get "fit" but instead you got "fit" in another way, fit for another year of trying to make it work for yourself and seeing where the road wants to go. But oftentimes you end up with not much, if you are young, broke, and working twice as hard as you thought you might be for half of the pay you expected to get because someone told you once that you were definitely going to "be" someone. These are the stories that I want to tell. Because they are funny, and sad, and sometimes ugly and mean, and sometimes ugly and funny (see photo below for proof of this particular combination).
A while back a friend of mine and I wanted to start and anti-facebook page and we decided we'd quit the addictive social media site and create something where we didn't show off photos of how good we looked at this wedding, or how sweet our latest adventure was, or how rad we really truly were even though we spent a lot of time trying to prove that we were, thus taking away our respective radness to the declines of imagination and adventurous spirit that staring at a computer comparing yourself to others thrusts you into. We called it the Ugly Face Project, and this we wanted to complete. But I had to stay on facebook, as I felt I needed to be connected to it for work, and it turns out I wanted to be connected to pictures and stories about my friends and family instantly as I had gotten used to. And we didn't start the project then, but my latest swarm of creative energy that doesn't seem to come along as easily as it used to propelled me to restart this blog which I intended to create over three years ago when I first said the story or joke or whatever that ended with the one lined of "sometimes you end up with lambchops". So whether this long winded explanation will suffice or not, here goes my attempt at sharing thoughts, ideas, and mostly the stories that make up this sometimes funny, sometimes sad, and sometimes heartbreaking, mysterious life I now find myself in.
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