The gypsy in me.

Today I awoke a bit healthier than I have done in the last week or so. But what I awoke to was a longing for the visceral again. For actually seeing the world. Walking it. Interacting with it. Tasting it’s flavors. Understanding bits of it. Definitely appreciating it.

When I get this feeling at this level, it actually physically hurts that I'm not attaining it. It’s the deepest, most intense longing in me. It goes beyond even the desire for companionship.

It’s not about making my mark on the world. My time here on this planet, in the scope of all of history and all that is to come, is miniscule at most. It’s about BEING in it. Experiencing it. Knowing, truly knowing, the wonder of it during these moments I'm privileged to be in it. Glimpsing it’s beauty in this moment. Marveling at the cultures I encounter. And touching as much of it as I possibly can.

This. This is what drives me. What feeds me. I spend my time downloading books to my reader or films to my external hard drive in anticipation of the first step of this journey. Yet, in reality when I go I won’t give a crap about these things. I’ll care about engaging with what is around me. Not what is made to entertain. (Not that I obviously don’t enjoy these things… but they often can dilute the preciousness of the moment as well as suck time from this sacred interaction.)

I used the word “sacred.” I do see being deeply engaged in each moment as spiritual encounter – as the most profound way to honor the divine, or at least to honor this mysterious gift called life.

But I digress. This drive, this desire for a nomadic existence is both marvelous and maddening. How do I support myself financially is the most trying part to figure out. (Yes, I am open to suggestions – and especially connections.)

It is isolating, too. Many people I meet think it’s a great dream, but then have a lot of negative comments about it. They even become angry. I do understand. They have made choices in life that have allowed them to walk away from their dreams. To encounter someone who still holds to theirs is not always comfortable. It is only hard when I get discouraged and haven’t someone who believes in me and my goals to encourage me. (I’m so very grateful I have a few wonderful women who do that for me now. What a true blessing.)

Whatever this wayfaring passion is, it is my objective; my goal. my future. I just wish so much I knew how be in it now rather than always, ever “moving towards it.”

The weight of me.

I thought with the New Year I would start afresh. An invigorated focus on my goals in life brings me back with a new look for the blog and a refreshed sense of purpose for my writing. But first, a reflection…

The last few months I have had some personal breakthroughs I didn’t even know I was needing. (Sometimes those are the most awe inspiring.) These epiphanies have centered me as never before.

What it comes down to is a knowing myself completely at the deepest levels of my being. Really being good with who that is. This is an all-encompassing knowing; a resting in and embracing of my whole self. This includes recognizing and appreciating my place in the journey of life, loving my body just as it is, and being both contented with and excited about my spiritual path with the wrestling and expanding it involves.

This sounds so corny, really. But it was born of coming the other side of an intense trauma after finally truly healing. In that final emergence from the dark waters of that churning ocean of betrayal, despair, and brokenness I was lost in, with that first step on dry land I felt the weight of me. By that I mean I knew the depth of my courage as well as just how intense and incredible my strength is. That was my “grounding.”

One interesting thing about that ocean: you feel so overwhelmed in the depths of it when you can’t see the shore as the waves are pounding you and threatening to take you under, but the very hardest part is when you finally stand in the shallows of the tide and are taking that long walk to the beaches. Because you feel the sand between your toes as you step, you think you are on land, so the effort is all the more frustrating as you fight to bring your legs forward through the eddying riptides. Never have you worked so hard, yet you don’t realize you really aren’t out of it yet. It’s only on that first step out of the waters that you find that true freedom.

And that’s the moment you know. You know just how fierce you are. You know it’s not an invincibility but an endurance. You feel your strength in every molecule and know… that you can. Who you are is enough – more than enough. Whatever comes next, strenuous and painful or freeing and joyful, will not be beyond you. You can.

Edith Södergran said:

“My self-confidence comes from the fact that I have discovered my own dimensions. It does not behoove me to make myself smaller than I am.”

I know my own dimensions now. In fact, I OWN my own dimensions. I revel in them. So I walk tall. Because I am tall.

Love (supposedly) happens.

I just watched a film tonight on a whim. It was called “Love Happens.” It was a good film in that it had a depth I didn’t expect and wasn’t the rote Hollywood love story. For me however, what was glaringly obvious was that in my life love doesn’t seem to happen.

In the end, what I saw was the lack of it in my life. In the past I have idly wondered about how people have love more than once in their lives. At the conclusion of this film I felt the frustration of the main character experiencing the potential for real love a second time while I can only long for it just once.

It’s hard not to think how much I must lack as a person to not ever have been very near it. Mostly, though, at the moment I feel envy for those who find it so easily. I even envy the potential pain – because I know that it is only possible to experience deep love if you risk greatly.

Perhaps that is the problem. I know the risk it takes. Therefore in the past when I’ve decided to trust, I dove in the deep end with an open, vulnerable heart – expectant and ready. Finding out after all that talk of oceans that they didn’t know how to swim, or at most only wanted ankle deep waters, made it hard to want to keep climbing that ladder to the high dive board.

But I would again. If someone would talk of oceans once more. It seems they no longer do. Not to me.

So do I see this as a reflection of how unworthy I am? Do I just keep moving forward, pretending-until-I-believe that life without love is still great? Do I give up the biggest portion of who I am to be someone who is more accessible in order to have it? Or do I keep hoping that someone I can be crazy about will cross my path who will love me – as I am? Because honestly, hope is exhausting, and quite frankly, after nearly 42 years, unfulfilling.

I know, I know – I’m not being very positive. I’m sure I’ll find that place of graceful patience again. But for tonight I’m childishly covetous of you who have love and am generally discontented with my life lived thus far without it. Just for tonight, while still trusting the journey, knowing love happens is a horrible reality rather than a wondrous possibility.

Timing is everything.

Hope. That’s what this is. I’d forgotten. Or at least, I’d forgotten the pleasant side of it. This last month, being out of touch, I have been discovering hope again… in the strangest of ways.

I suppose it had been building for a while, leading me to this place of feeling again. Then I had a couple weeks where suddenly I was feeling all the pain of the traumas of the last five years – all at once. It was nearly unbearable, but I knew that if I could feel this pain, if I could find a way to walk along with it, then I could again feel love and have passion and find… hope. I just didn’t want to be numb anymore, but until then didn’t have the tools – the pain and heartbreak – to be free of the anesthesia.

The thing about pain is that without feeling it we can’t feel anything. Not really. Certainly not deeply. Overwhelmed, I had flipped that switch to “off” in order to deal with the fallout of various extreme situations that I was bombarded with in rapid succession. However, by the time I wanted it turned on, I couldn’t reach it. I was so far from it wandering in that darkness, I couldn't even see it.

When I then all these years later unexpectedly backed into it, I was blinded by the light. It was incapacitating to experience so much emotional pain all at once. Now my heart has adjusted. (I’m so grateful.) And I find I have passion again… so much of it! Yet, now it it tempered with wisdom and experience, so it is a fuller and a more beautiful sort of passion.

I’m not saying everything’s perfect, and frankly I hope I never will say so – how boring that would be! I am saying I feel [internally] prepared for what may come. More, I am moving toward it with anticipation while still endeavoring to be present even in these duller moments.

As this hope builds, and more specifically as I complete my few remaining (time consuming) projects, I will be much more consistent with my blog entries… and I would imagine they will be getting more interesting as I enter into the flow of, well, my destiny.

Here’s hoping…

The way here.

I’ve been going through a bit of a transformation lately. It’s been a few years in the process, but the chrysalis is opening, and the view is great!

I think the most recent revelation in this evolution has been in finding that I’m sincerely content to be where I am while at the same time looking forward to all the years yet to come. I’m actually excited for 50, though not wanting to miss a second of all the years in between.

This is in contrast to how I was living. Internally I felt that there just wasn’t time – everything had to be rushed and was eminent because life was in fast forward. While I always was one to “suck the marrow” from life, this frenetic, whirlwind living I think really started after September 11th. Time froze while at the same time I felt like it went into overdrive. I never got out of that gear – not really. Not internally. I was almost in a panic to do and see all that for which I hoped and planned. I knew my mortality and was putting all sorts of energy into racing against it.

Suddenly, though, I feel like I have time. I’m resting in knowing me; knowing I accomplish what I set out to do, so it will happen. In the mean time, I’m here. That’s kind of great. My mortality hasn’t changed, just my perspective on how to be with it.

There’s another level to this, too. It’s the whole thing about feeling and looking (and acting!) younger than I am... This has always been a fantastic thing in my book. (What woman doesn’t want to frequently be taken for 10 years younger than she is??) Now, however, I’m really quite proud and grateful to be my age. Because it took to here to be so grounded and solid in who I am. No thoughts of what others think or how my family might react. My perspectives and beliefs won’t be altered by other’s judgments... no matter how much I might love them.

Considering my world view is so far from my entire, very large and well loved, extended family as well as the community I was so vigorously involved in for my first 35 years of life – the only community I’ve known, in fact - that is an extreme statement. Their disagreements and judgments on my Weltanschauung won’t cause me to waiver from it. If I am very blessed, they might one day understand I haven’t left my faith – only expanded it. But I can’t concern myself with the reactions of others, positively or negatively, when it comes to this subject. I embrace and accept others where they are at... I don’t ask them to do it/think it/feel it my way. I try to meet them where they are at and hopefully I will grow by embracing and understanding them.

Now, to looking young... sure, it gets me in more places and gives me access to more people who wouldn’t normally talk to (or date!) someone my actual age, but I love what those extra years have brought me. Suffering.

Because it’s only when you come out on the other side of deep pain and loss, that engulfing kind of brokenness, that you know your true strength. You know how deep your courage runs. Your footing there is solid and unwavering. You know yourself utterly. And can rest in that.

When you get there, to that place of peace with the ever-present pain, you will find real joy and passion again (likely in fits and starts, but you will find it). In fact, it will be richer because of the freedom taming such a ferocious beast brings. You will be full.

What a miraculous place to be. Hooray for aging!

Where we love.

My wonderful friend Courtney is getting married today to the love of her life, Rebecca. In the world I come from, this would not be okay… but I don’t think it’s okay that when two people find that rarest and most illusive of things, deep and abiding love, that anyone would ever take issue with their union. That they have to go out of state to legally make this bond is very sad, indeed. I am acutely grateful they have such grace as to embrace this forced journey rather than begrudge it.

I have had few friends in the course of my life who have given to me as much as Courtney has over the last few years. She has been a light. She has supported me in so many, and to me, miraculous, ways. In short, she has been a friend. But in truth, she has become a sister.

We have shared so much with each other during this time, but what was so beautiful to me as I got to know her was HOW she and Rebecca loved each other. It is protective and gentle, yet fierce and vibrant. It is both tactile and cerebral. It is comfortable and natural, yet intense and passionate. But most of all, it is true and enduring.

I am so thrilled that today they join together in this way; that they commit to each other openly and lastingly. How magnificent!

Deep joy, great peace, and lasting hope I wish for you both as you begin your journey together... you already have abiding love.

With all my heart.

The separation.

Someone told me today how courageous I am. I had never thought of my decisions and actions recently as courageous until they said that.

I am a journeyer. In that, I see things differently than most. So, in the course of my experiencing God from the Christian perspective I was raised in and personally embraced, I continued the journey and found myself experiencing God beyond the limited ways and practices that are the habits of the church.

This is an amazing and exciting path. However, it is also very lonely. You see, in embracing the Sacred Mystery (God with open eyes) I effectively broke my deep bonds with the community I have always been a part of as well as with my entire family. So suddenly instead of walking alone but still solidly belonging, I walk alone because I am alone.

This is where courage was seen. In this act. It is not easy to be so disconnected. I am a person who thrives on and craves connections. It is so deeply ingrained in my being that it feels like it’s what I’m made for – to connect with others. The growth and understanding that comes from this is rich and true, but the love that exists in that acceptance is magnificent.

I seek connections where I can, but just right now, with the exception of a few (amazing) online girlfriends, I am so very alone. There is no going back now that I’ve reached higher and farther in faith than a box of religion will allow, but do I have the strength within me to continue to be courageous… and alone?

What we know.

Memorizing. It’s not exactly a common past time any more, with the possible exception of stage actors. In our parent’s and grandparent’s generations it was valued as a way to share beautiful and important things. Now we just google and forget.

As for me, before I could read or write I had all the books of the bible memorized as well as a couple dozen scriptures. As a side note, this shows how deeply ingrained in my core faith is. However, as I grew, I got lazy. I did memorize scriptures now and then, but my mind was filled with all sorts of things: movies, television shows, school work… movies. In all that I lost the practiced habit of learning something by heart.

The other day I was working on yet another list diligently (yet somehow wondering if spending so much of my time on lists wasn’t wasteful) when I started to think about how I’d like to improve my spiritual life. I had chunked the sections of my life up to what I’d like to work on in larger sections, hoping that having a larger focus instead of the minutia of details would make it easier, and in truth more fun, to achieve. Regarding my self, there were the three areas of mind, body, and spirit for which I was considering how to improve. When it came to my spirit, memorizing came to mind.

As I processed this idea, I processed what was important to me spiritually. Though I cherish the Bible, I value more than it now, because my understanding of God is bigger than what it was in my youth. And, my spirit revels in words. So I started to think of the quotes from books I’ve read that have changed me, moved me so deeply that they changed how I lived. Those words, those wonderful thoughts, that’s what I’d like to have inside me to dwell on when I can’t sleep or when I’m struggling emotionally.

So I decided to start with one of my very favorite quotes, an excerpt from Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury. In point of fact, the first two I want to keep trapped in my brain in order to seep into my spirit are both from that outstanding book. Here’s the first:

“I hate a Roman named Status Quo,” he said to me, “Stuff your eyes with wonder,” he said, “Live as if you’d drop dead in ten seconds. See the world. It’s more fantastic than any dream made or paid for in factories. Ask no guarantees, ask for no security, there never was such an animal. And if there were, it would be related to the great sloth that hangs upside down in a tree all day every day, sleeping its life away. To hell with that,” he said, “shake the tree and knock the great sloth on his ass.”

I know that what inspires is very personal, and most of my friends I’ve shared this with liked the idea of it, but didn’t have the bonded sort of reaction that I did. I know my perspective is rather uncommon, and likely considered uncouth at times, but for me embracing this philosophy is to embrace my nature. My desire to purge and be free of stuff is tied into it. That’s me making sure I’m not so bound by things that I don’t have the energy to shake the tree.

The second quote is quite as vital to my being; to that for which my brain and heart longs.

We’ll just start walking today and see the world and the way the world walks around and talks, the way it really looks. I want to see everything now. And while none of it will be me when it goes in, after a while it’ll all gather together inside and it’ll be me. Look at the world out there, my God, my God, look at it out there, outside me, out there beyond my face and the only way to really touch it is to put it where it’s finally me, where it’s in the blood, where it pumps around a thousand times ten thousand a day. I'll get hold of it so it’ll never run off. I’ll hold onto the world tight some day. I’ve got one finger on it now; that’s a beginning.

It goes to my character and how I want to live my life. There are other quotes, many by the great authors of past generations, that speak to me. And I do hope that I find my way to memorizing them as well. It was likely unorthodox to memorize these two first… but then, that rather sums me up. I have great faith, but it is anything by orthodox. It’s vast and ever-expanding and with it comes a drive to understand and embrace the people and cultures of the world, and in doing that also growing from how they experience and honor God. This is my passion. To know not just these words, but the world - by heart.

Have my cake & eat it, too.

After (hilariously) making yet another list of books last week here on the blog, I dove in. It was like I suddenly gave myself permission to eat dessert first.

I’m not good at that. I come from a family of good Christian Midwestern farmers of mostly Danish stock. What that adds up to is the idea that life is toil and hardship – you work very hard and maybe at the end of the day if you have any energy left, you can do something you enjoy… although even if you do, you never have idle hands! Honestly, it’s slightly psychotic, or rather masochistic. Or a bit of both.

Ingrained in my brain is the story of how my grandfather said he became a success. It was the hour before dawn and hour after dusk that he worked in the fields when everyone else was sleeping or being with family when he made his money. The rest of the time was what barely allowed them to scrape by. And he did become a success, owning several farms, apartment complexes, and more. In fact, the people at the apartments thought he was the janitor because even into his seventies he’d always be the one to do all the work when things went wrong. That’s how I remember him… with that giant ring of keys, which weighed about as much as I did back then, in work gear heading out to one or the other of his sites again.

So when I was in college, I decided to study art. But my parents made it clear I needed an “academic” major as well. I obediently obliged them. The thing is, I would end up spending all my time on classes that were tedious rather than investing some of that time in my major classes because, well, I loved doing art. Classes I would have aced I struggled with at times as a result. And now I deeply regret not taking full advantage of the facilities the art department had because once I graduated (and had the time) I no longer had access.

This disposition carried over into my finding a job/career. I’d pursue things I was interested in, but never anything that brought me bliss. Mustn’t enjoy what I do, not deep down. That was somehow wrong. So my varied professions gave me great and diverse experiences (oh my goodness – the stories!), but not real joy. There was no true satisfaction that what I was doing was something to which I felt any sort of “calling.” Therefore, I’d work extremely hard, get very good at it, then get bored. There was no passion behind it. So I moved on.

This mentality I was brought up in (toil and suffering first, pleasure last), instead of helping me progress has held me back. Not just from reading the books I’m most looking forward to, but from doing the things I’m most passionate about. From living a joy-filled, complete life.

It’s a hard thing to break out of. Truly. I’ve known about this for quite a few years, and have attempted to extricate myself from it. But it’s so pervasive in all areas of my life. Obviously it’s worth the effort. And, too, this extreme pairing down I’m doing with my “stuff” invades my being enough that I’m stripping down and purging some of the non-productive internal processes and ways of thinking and being as well. But I do wish I could simply relax and enjoy without feeling antsy, guilty, or frustrated.

When it comes to the books I have, the permission I gave myself was to read exactly what I want… not to feel the need to have read books I feel are “important” but for which I know I will honestly hate reading. Those classics that show only the depravity of life, for instance, really needn’t be read – not by me. I, quite obviously, understand the hardships life can bring; the difficulties from which some souls never climb out. I chose to dwell on and read about those who perhaps struggle, but who find a level of grace they never expected.

In that revolutionary act of permission-giving, I find I again desire to read some of the books that felt rather obligatory only days before. Perhaps in the same way when I break out of this “toil” mentality, I can find a deep joy in the very things that wore on my soul previously. I hope so. I love dessert.

The place of pondering.

I sit here on a lovely rainy day pondering. I think that’s one reason I love rain so much – the sound is restful and somehow rejuvenating and in that it gives my mind time and space to consider without the usual stresses. Well, that can happen so long as I don’t run headlong into my day, at least.

What came to mind as I listened to the trickling of the water in the drainpipes, the drops touching down on various surfaces, the swish of the distant cars as the fresh puddles shoot out from below their tires, was the Way of the Tao.

Isn’t it interesting how sometimes you pick up books at random, in a moment you want something different than what you’re in the middle of for instance, and in the end they all seem to relate? One night recently, on a whim, I picked up the tiny tome call What Is Tao? by Alan Watts. Concise as it is, it manages to effectively convey the essentials of the Tao. Having finished that, I grabbed The Tao of Pooh and now and then delved into this easy read.

The thing that most effects me about the Way of the Tao is that it is in the rhythms of nature. It isn’t the worship of nature, but is a kind of respect for nature that we whom have grown up in Western cultures can’t truly understand immediately. This is because in the Eastern cultures they don’t see human beings as standing apart or dominating over nature, but as an integral part of it, fitting right in to it. From a Western perspective, this is revolutionary.

When I started reading these two books, I was already making my way through John Muir’s My First Summer in the Sierra and No Impact Man by Colin Beavan. John Muir was a devout Christian, yet he saw the hand of the divine in nature. When speaking of poison oak and poison ivy he said, “Like most other things not apparently useful to man, it has few friends, and the blind question, ‘Why was it made?’ goes on and on with never a guess that first of all it might have been made for itself.” John Muir may never have know about the Tao, but he understood it.

In No Impact Man, Mr. Beavan talks about the day that he and his family had planned on walking across the bridge from Manhattan to go to a birthday party, but when the day came it wasn’t just raining, it was a torrential downpour. So instead, they stayed home and relaxed and just spent time together. No rushing off in a cab to do the 101 things that we all pack into our “time off” because they were on the journey of a year without making a negative impact on the environment. That day more than any other he felt how the rhythms of nature, even in the middle of one of the busiest cities in the world, is within each of us. He noticed how when we pay attention to these things, when we move within them, we are happier and more connected to the people around us, not just nature.

One of my favorite stories so far from No Impact Man was how on another day when it was raining, he was walking somewhere or other with his daughter on his shoulders. Feeling guilty that because of his choice to do this no impact challenge his daughter was having to be out in this weather. He was trying to hold the umbrella so that she would not get wet, but she was crying. Then a gust of wind blew the umbrella over and rain poured on both of them, and his daughter stopped crying. After he righted the umbrella she started crying again. After a couple of times of this he realized that she’s not crying because she was getting wet, rather she was crying because the umbrella is stopping her from getting wet. In his words, here’s his realization in that moment:

“And on this rainy day, here is what happens when I treat my body as something more than a means to transport my head, when I finally learn to treat the landscape as something more than the space that stands between where I am now and where I want to be later:

I take Isabella down from my shoulders and let her jump in a puddle, soaking her shoes and her pants. For fun, I jump in the puddle, too. Isabella laughs. She stretches out her arms with her palms facing up to catch the rain. She opens her mouth, sticks her tongue out and leans her head back. I try it, too.

When did the child in me disappear?

People are running past. They look desperate, miserable, trying to get out of the rain. What has happened to us?”

I think I’ve always kept the child in me, splashing in puddles and loving playing in the rain, for instance. But also, I am a person of the journey, appreciating the path often more than the destination. Also, I have often felt that there is no place better to find the divine than in nature. To connect with the Way of the Tao has for me been more of an understanding of how I relate naturally as well as how I move through the journey.

Reading the Tao Te Ching, the main source of understanding the Tao, is an interesting process this time around. It is causing me to question my ambition. But it is also giving me permission to find rest and contentment in this time of intense struggle with my situation and my lack.

In sharing this, I’m not saying I’ve converted to some new faith, but rather that I feel knowing about the Tao enhances and deepens the faith I have. It gives me a mind for the whole rather than a part. I see creation, not simply man, when exercising my faith. I have always had an affinity for this way, but until it was explained to me I accepted the idea of man’s domination, if uncomfortably.

I think when I started to see the world in this ancient way, I also understood how much less I need in order to feel the fullness of joy. If you know me or have been reading here for a bit, you know that I’m a purger, trying to keep myself free of so much stuff that weighs us down. But isn’t it so much a better idea to simply not collect these things so that there is no need to purge? I’m not saying strive to be an ascetic and live in deprivation, but more to be thoughtful in what you buy. To have less stuff is to have more time because you needn’t work so much to get it and you have less to clean and sort and put away. Not a bad trade.

I look forward to exploring the Way of the Tao more. I look forward to feeling the rain on my tongue and appreciating the wind on my face. I look forward to being fully present and having the time to connect wholly with those around me. I look forward, but only in that I am completely engaged now so I know whatever comes I will be the same then – engaged and ready.

Ten on Tuesday.

I thought I'd join in on this week's Ten on Tuesday. I tend to prefer when the questions are interrelated as well as on a topic that interests me, but this week's questions do touch on travel and the outdoors, so I figured I'd give it a go...

1. What two cities should be moved closer together?
Gosh. I’m not sure. I think I like the journey too much. But I think it’d be wherever I am to wherever I want to be next. Yet, that’s not right either because I’d not like Edinburgh, Scotland to be down the road from Los Gatos, California. That’d be creepy and ruin the point.

2. What was the first plane ride you took?
No idea – was way too young. I remember the first plane ride I took alone. I was seven and went on a plane from Northern to Southern California to visit my grandma and grandpa. It was so exciting to be doing this on my own that I can even tell you what the sundress I was wearing looked like (this was in the days when one dressed nicely to travel).

3. What continent would you most like to visit?
All of them. And I will.

4. What’s your favorite place to window-shop?
I don’t like shopping, really, so mostly I hunt online (and still don't much like it). Although I did a browse through REI on Saturday and enjoyed it a lot. Got me excited for hiking in nature and traveling the world – two of my favorite things. Back when I had a place to do my art, my answer would have been Home Depot.

5. What’s the least fun you’ve ever had at a place specifically tailored for fun?
Well, because I read someone else’s answer to this question, what comes to mind was when I went to this really cool event, a Mayfest, at the Tourist Club on Mount Tamalpais in Marin County last year. We had to hike down this really steep grade to get to it, and once I got down there I got an insane migraine. It was quite hot and heat makes my migraines explode. I’m miles and miles from anything resembling a place to rest, I rode with a group in a beat up SUV with no working air and no apparent shocks, and all there is available to drink is, of course, beer... which will only dehydrate me and make the pain worse. There was traditional German polka-like music replete with screeching (so it seemed to me) horns blaring, bodies everywhere in a relatively small space, barbecues heating it up more and sending smells wafting everywhere that made me feel like puking even more, and a blazing bright sun shining in my eyes to sharpen the pain up to the nth degree. I didn’t want to spoil the event for the rest of the group, but I thought I might just curl up and die somewhere. The worst was all those hours and hours later when we left, I still had to walk those several miles up that incredibly steep grade in the heat. Hell of a day. Funny thing was it was such a cool event that even in that state I wanted to become a member of the club.

6. You’re stuck on an island with plenty of food, a companion, and a relatively stress-free lifestyle. What do you say when the rescue ship comes?
It took me a long time to come up with a real answer for this. But then I remembered. Island fever. When on Maui, one of the most beautiful places I’ve visited, I realized that I’d not be able to live there very long because I would get serious island fever... mostly because I love to explore, it’s my nature to my core, and once it’d all been explored (including the water around the island), no matter how wonderful and simple my life was (which is ideal in my book), I’d go stir crazy pretty quickly. Though, I could ask the rescue ship to send us a helicopter so that when we want to we could take jaunts off the island. Then I’d not feel trapped. The other thing is, where is this island? In the middle of the Pacific Ocean thousands of miles from anything, or just off a coast somewhere so that if we built a canoe we could paddle off now and then? Also, if the island is New Zealand, I’M STAYING.

7. Which day of the week do you look forward to most?
This is going to sound so stupid, but I love Thursdays. Always have. I can’t explain it. I don’t know that it’s the one I most look forward to, but I do love me my Thursdays. I think I look forward to the days I know I will be doing something I love doing or will be with someone I love, or be doing something I’ve never tried before... and that’s never on a specific day of the week.

8. What’s your favorite place to enjoy the great outdoors?
Anywhere in nature, I guess. I love the forest, but I also love the ocean. I’m not big on deserts, but that’s mostly because of my issues with heat ever since I got heat strokes 15 years ago. Well, that and I DON'T love dry, dusty, barren places. I love lush, green, moist... with creeks flowing through the dense trees and secrets to discover, as well as the wildlife that comes with that environment. Then, too, the sound of the crashing waves of the ocean... especially in the rain. Or if in someplace lovely (like the afore mentioned Maui), then snorkeling all day long and seeing the wonders of that sort of wildlife! I feel like nature is my temple, so entering it in any form is a way for my soul to be refreshed. (Perhaps that is why I prefer the moist, lush places... though even in the deserts I can experience this.)

9. What’s on your “to do” list this summer?
Hmm. Well, number one would be moving to Scotland. But before and after, going on as many hikes and jaunts into nature as possible. Potentially getting back to cycling. Mostly remembering to find restful moments to just partake and enjoy... whatever is around me. And continuing in my quest of purging the detritus of life – both internally and externally. Less stuff, less clutter, getting to the bare minimum externally. No more mass amounts of storage. Just my books, some quality kitchen things, and some lovely bits that bring me joy. Internally getting rid of the junk that weighs me down, that detracts from living my best life, from being as open as possible to those around me MUST GO. Freeing myself of those annoying thought processes that cause me to think “I can’t” is another big part of this detritus I’m purging. Also, to continue to find more ecologically sound ways of living, wherever I may be, and reducing my waste as much as possible. Mustn't forget, watching the Stanley Cup Playoffs.

10. Which natural disaster freaks you out the most?
I don’t really get freaked out by such things. I’ve been in intense blizzards without power, some of the worst earthquakes in recent history, and even a hurricane or two. I don’t think I’d like to have my home (such as it may be) taken out by any of them, but why dread what we have no control over? I will say that as a kid I’d have nightmares about Tsunamis. But they were cartoon-like dreams where the giant tidal wave would suddenly be overcoming the towering downtown of a big city. And there I'd be running, knowing it was useless. Interestingly, I neither lived next to the ocean nor in a big city with high rises... so go figure. But, because I love water so much I think I’d be really sad to experience its devastating powers, whether through floods or hurricanes or tsunamis. Also, I have this weird sort of feeling that if my stuff was all taken from me in this way, it’d sort of be freeing. It’d be hard because I have things from family whom have passed on, yet it’d be so releasing – I’d be able to be the nomad a really am without worry over stuff. Even if it’s stuff I LOVE. I’m a weirdo, aren’t I?

Okay, I just wrote all that, and then realized I would totally be freaked out by potential avalanche if I ever was somewhere where that was a possibility. Being buried alive is a horrific enough thought, but to do it while freezing is worse somehow. Yikes.

So there you go. A little more about me you mightn't have known.

A dark day.

I’ve been feeling pretty down lately. I mean, not overtly, being an optimist at heart. But I just feel like whatever I accomplish, my setbacks are multitudinous in comparison.

People talk about being tested. But, I mean to say, can’t I just take the traumatic events as they come? Must I be handed days and weeks and months adding up to years straight of daily, even hourly, setbacks to “prepare” me? Give a girl a break, already.

I’m not a whiner, really. Sometimes I vent to friends – we all need that (and thank you friends). But I try not to make excuses. Sometimes I fail at this, but I do try. And usually I downplay just how bad things are. Mustn’t show the chink in the armor. Mustn’t overburden friends.

I was hit by a truck – yes, you read that right – a couple years back. I was cycling, training for a half-iron triathlon. It was a hit-and-run. It was miraculous things weren’t worse than they were, though it wasn't fun. But as the days and month of trials continued and compounded, I remember wondering if I was really meant to die there... but there was a mix up.

I’m not saying I want or wanted to die, just that I haven’t figured out why seemingly every step I attempt to take to better myself, to make my way back, I instead get a beat-down.

Like I said, I keep the good in my heart as much as I can. I keep the joy effusing, hoping not only pour out, but that it will make it’s way back in to the deeper, dry regions of my soul and refresh them. But, no matter what, head up… keep moving forward. Hopefully spread blessings even when broken.

But I’d really like to be whole. And most of all, I crave an actual hug from someone who truly cares.

That said, I want to make it clear that I believe there is more goodness than evil in the world. I believe that we choose every moment what we give, what we accept, and most of all how we respond. I want to keep choosing to love, to be kind, to embrace, to accept. No matter what comes in return, I want this to be what I give. This is MY choice.

Lastly, I’m sorry for complaining. Being heard, feeling connected, these are needs, not wants, and I guess I am in great need tonight. Thank you for hearing me.

The dream and me.

Goals are strange, often illusive things. We aspire to them, we try to tackle them, we aim for them, we fight for them, and every so often, we achieve them. Lately, I’ve been trying to determine what I need to make that every-so-often be simply every.

In saying this, I don’t mean to say that I want to have everything I ever desired. Honestly, that’d be quite cumbersome. Rather, I’ve been evaluating what the core desires in me are and then figuring out how to make them absolutes. No more “one day,” but rather, “on my way.”

Some of you know through reading here, as well as perhaps through personal interactions, that my deepest longings rest in writing and in experiencing. So, I want to travel the world not to have done the rounds and be able to say “I’ve been there,” but because I want to go and experience that culture, interact with those people, and see life from their perspective. I want the learning and growing of that; I long for the understanding of that. There is nothing deeper in me than this desire to experience every people group in every corner of the world… and to connect with them.

I don’t much care how it happens. I just know it MUST happen.

The writing is my wanting to share those comical moments when two cultures just don’t quite get the other. Sort of that “lost in translation” aspect. Not, I must clarify, to poke fun at either culture, but to show the humor in their meeting and the process of connecting. Then, too, expressing the beauty of these connections and the delight of discovery of… well, friends.

I guess my goal is sort of a cultural anthropologist on speed. Right, I do know that an anthropologist tries to observe more than interact, but still what I seek is understanding and connection on that deeper level that both embraces and transcends cultures.

This passion, this intense focus, that comes with this rather unusual goal is something that cannot be mollified or quelched. In that, however, it is isolating. Many people admire such vision and think they share it, but of these few really want it in practice, and even fewer really understand it. My family cannot really understand it. And, in truth, not understanding this means not understanding me at my core.

My dream is not the accepted “American Dream.” Even on book websites I have been called names and berated and admonished (and those are only the nice things) for these goals. The most harsh are the people that had similar divergent dreams, but fell into routine or made choices that forced them to no longer be able to easily pursue their dreams, so they chided and mocked me.

I, however, have not, will not give in to status quo. It’s a beautiful thing if that’s your dream. It’s my brother’s dream – a home of his own, a wife and a family to raise up in it, the traditional job scenario, active in the local church. I’m so incredibly joy-filled that he has achieved so much of this. But it’s not my dream. It simply never will be. I don’t like the idea of settling down. It makes my bum itch just thinking about it.

Also, I will not apologize for going for it. I won’t even apologize if I fail at it – more than once, if it comes to that, in order to attain it. Because it’s about me going for MY dream, not coming ‘round to someone else’s. And I do seek whatever means and wisdom that is out there to help me find that path to my goal. So in all this, I’m determining that this one will NOT be “the one that got away.”

ICE it.

I was watching the Sharks hockey game this evening when the color announcer (Drew Remenda for those in-the-know) gave his Keys to the Game. What the team needed to do, according to Remenda, was demonstrate Intensity, Consistency, and Expectancy. I generally ignore whatever he says because he really can annoy, as well as say the most absurd things and present them as absolutes (plus he worships at the alter of Crosby, so on principle I MUST distrust him). Then he made an aside about it spelling “ICE.” Okay, appropriate for a hockey game, if cheesy.

However, because he said the acronym, the three words stuck. As the game went from bad to worse and I was unconsciously looking for anything else on which to ruminate, I realized that those three words – intensity, consistency, and expectancy – are exactly what I need to remember and apply to my endeavors to reach my goals as well.

It’s good to get the vision and keep it in front of you. It’s good to speak it out and to believe it. It’s great to work toward it. But without those three words, it’s likely the goal will be a long time in coming.

For me lately, because of unforeseeable and rather exigent circumstances, I’ve found myself faced with setback after setback to even get on the road to where I want to be, much less there. In that state, everything seems more strenuous and it’s difficult to keep my energies positive and my vision focused. In other words, my hope wanes and I get smacked across the face with the glaring reality of where I am so that my eyes have no room to see where I am going. When that happens, it’s hard to take a step forward because you can’t see that it IS forward.

It reminds me of when I raced triathlons. In the swim portion, it was important to keep an eye on the next buoy. If I didn’t take a peek every few strokes the current could take me off in some other direction. So focusing on my current situation is like never taking my eyes out of the water. I may keep moving in the direction I think is right, but by the time I run out of energy I could have swum in a circle and gotten no where, or worse, ended up farther back than where I started.

Beyond that clear vision, that focusing intensely on my goal, I need to be consistent in my work toward achieving it. Letting myself not do that work one day because of distractions is bad, but it’s far worse when I don’t do it because I’m discouraged. That’s exactly when consistency is the key. If a hockey player allows his game to suffer because he is upset about a call, he won’t be playing much the rest of that game… and won’t achieve his goal – nor be helping his team to achieve their collective goal.

I’ve realized, however, that these first two don’t work without an expectancy. I get worn out on the work when I don’t have an expectancy to reach my goal. The sheer amount of stuff I have to tackle is overwhelming – paralyzing. But to do it and not think that it’s getting me any closer causes all motivation to wane, no matter how diligent of a person I am.

Honestly, I have to say that ICE is something I want to make a part of my way of life; my being. In the trauma of the last few years, the subsequent difficulties that piled on both physically and emotionally, and the general stress of daily life in the midst of turmoil, I think these three little words are good to keep as fixtures in my internal living room.

My only concern is if I can stay as conditioned in the areas I need to as the hockey players do physically for their sport. I want to, but I’ve never been one for routine and consistency does tend to lean on it quite a bit. However, I think I do have the power to change – I have done it many times – and while I will never embrace routine as a dear friend, I think I can learn to tolerate and even welcome it in when it serves my purpose… as a means to my desired end.

So thanks, Drew, for the Keys to My Future. (You don't know how much it rankles me to say that, as he really does get on my nerves.) I'll keep "icing" my bum areas to make them work better.

Intensity * Consistency * Expectancy

What we have.

I want to start this post out by saying that this is NOT me preaching at you, this is me sharing my astonishment and expressing my realizations at how the way I live my life effects the world.

I’m so ashamed. When I actually consider my weekly trash output, I’m so ashamed. I’m someone who has always been, shall we say, ecologically conscious. I remember in the mid-80’s, for instance, long before recycling was touted, much less readily available, and being ecologically minded was PC (long before there was such a thing as PC), I would cart around my empty Coke cans in my bookbag to bring them home to recycle (meaning then later taking them out to a recycling center as home pick-up was unheard of). The last few Christmases I only shopped with reusable bags. Good things. Valuable things. Things I should and will continue. But what about all the trash I was outputting? Recycle or not, why am I using so many things for no more than a few minutes and trashing them?

By now some of you might be wondering what I’m on, as in what I’ve been ingesting mentally. You would be right to assume there was something. In a round about way, an online girlfriend opened up my world. It was a simple link posted on Facebook. A movie review, actually, and one that was just so-so. But she recommended a website, and as she is someone I admire and whose opinion I value, I checked it out.

No Impact Man. Heard of him? He’s that weirdo in New York City who tried to live, along with an 18 month old daughter and his reluctant wife, with no environmental impact for a full year. I was interested in practical ways I could live a more ecologically friendly life – simple things like when I made the resolution at the beginning of the year to only ever use recycle bags, otherwise I must carry the items without anything or simply not get them. Extreme? Perhaps. (Or at least to some.) But, though I’ve been far more ecologically sound than most of those in my neighborhood, I’d never taken that real step of making it an absolute. So far it’s been incredibly easy to live by. But I digress.

Through this simple post by a girlfriend, I discovered many things. One of the most impacting was the short video call “The Story of Stuff.” Wow. I mean, WOW. It really makes you think about what you buy… and even why you buy it. Even more, it opens your eyes to SO MUCH about the process of making, about how we became a consumer society, and so much more. Beyond that video, I discovered other products and possibilities as to change and how I can conserve.

But most of all, and especially after hunting down a copy of the book No Impact Man, I found out just how much waste I am putting out there every day. It’s astounding. I, for instance, had only recently started using handkerchiefs now and then, more as a novelty and a convenience in cold weather. But when I realized that the thousands and thousands of tissues I still use and translate that into trees, I was floored. How about paper towels? It’s so easy to pick up a rag for the dirty jobs and a dishtowel for the drying jobs that might cause me to normally reach for a paper towel.

But then one of the resources pointed out feminine hygiene products. Um. Yeah. Not getting into too much detail here, boys, but I must say I was astounded that there WERE these options. How come I’d never heard of them before now? I’m THRILLED not to have to ever worry about running out. I’m psyched that will not have to spend all that money yearly on products – ever again. For the lifestyle of living abroad and travel which I’m working toward, knowing that wherever I am what I need will be available by the mere fact that I have all I need always with me is revolutionary. And, then also it’s great knowing that I’ll never, ever again add that kind of waste to the environment. (Never mind that I won’t be putting bleached and not toxin free – none are, nor are such things regulated – paper-based wads inside me.) Girls if you are curious to know what I’m talking about, check out DivaCups and LunaPads. Mine are on their way!

So far I’m about a third of the way through the book, and I’ve not yet gotten to the big changes he (they) made. Like TP alternatives. Like only food produced within a certain distance from them. Like… well I don’t know as I’ve not gotten to that yet! But what I do know is that all my take-out waste is absurd; that when I ate at that restaurant last night, it would have been easy enough to have a cloth napkin in my bag so as not to waste the paper; that cutting back – especially my trash output – actually isn’t hard at all.

Most of all, what I’m realizing is that my grandparents had the right idea. Okay, my grandmother was a hoarder in many ways – not like those horrendous shows you see on TV with all the filth, but in the never-throwing-things-away sort of scenario. We cousins still joke about the Styrofoam platter that had the duct tape down the middle, which was used ever time we visited. The water used to rinse our plates had to be taken out and used to water the plants outside in the Nebraska heat. That idea of “waste not, want not…” the idea of being grateful for what you do have, these are good tenants to live by.

[Those positive psychologist have] discovered that happy people spend a lot of time being grateful for what they have and savoring their experience. They don’t rush through “now” to get to later. They don’t make taking care of themselves or their families something they have to get over with so they can get to the good stuff. Instead, they insist that this moment, whatever it is, is the good stuff. – Colin Beavan, No Impact Man

So their idea then, my grandparents and their generation, was that if we treat what resources we have as precious, we understand how this life is precious, too. We have less “need” for things because we are so full up with blessings for what we have in front of us. If that’s archaic thinking, bring on the Ben Gay and Metamucil.

(No offense, gang... but could YOU resist this picture??)

What it's really about.

A good friend of mine has been trying for ages to get me to check out a website called CouchSurfing. It’s this fantastic site for… well I was going to say for travelers, but really it’s for people who want to connect with individuals from other places and cultures. Obviously I finally took a look – and signed up straightaway.

When filling out the profile, I really liked that they had a section for “Teach, Learn, Share.” Under the premise that surfing isn’t just about a place to sleep, but about an exchange, they gave a place to share any sort of special knowledge or insights you might have.

So when I got to that section, the following is what I shared…

When I was simply crossing a park in Athens on my way to someplace ancient, carting my bag as well as some leftovers which were meant for my supper, I came across three homeless men. The only three I saw in that country, I believe. They spoke to me, eventually in perfect English, with respect and politeness they tried to induce me to stop for a moment. I'm a girl, traveling alone in my first foreign country in a shrouded area at dusk. What did I do? I stopped. Sure there were things I wanted to see, places I wanted to go, but this was after all truly Greece right here in the park.

After some conversation around a burning trash barrel by a park bench, they insisted I eat with them - & were insulted when I pulled out my own food. First of all, the food they shared was phenomenal - the churches made sure they were very well fed, so it was one of the best meals I had in Greece. But then chatting with them I discovered that one of them had worked for years at one of the most famous restaurants in New York. He told me about serving all the famous people of the 60's & 70's and who really had been magnificent and who had been horrid. Another had been a merchant marine & told of some thrilling adventures & travels as well. The third told shyly of the love of his life, whom had eventually died after many years of joy together. We all talked and laughed into the wee hours.

In the end, I discovered the one who had lived in America had recently inherited a tiny two room flat, and knowing I hadn't yet found a bed for the night, insisted I stay at his place. The other two explained they were homeless by choice. They enjoyed this life, even on cold January nights like that one. Indeed, they were some of the most contented people I'd ever met. I'll never forget any of them nor those hours around the rubbish bin fire where they, each one, enriched my life.

Never discount the little moments. Take every opportunity to embrace life, but even more to experience the people around you, whatever their status. Don't miss the people for the place; don't miss the now for the past; don't miss the beauty in front of you for the dust on it's shell.

There is so much more to that story, like how horrid my host’s home smelled because he had recently painted it… and they put crazy stuff in their paint there. I believe I may have experienced something akin to an acid trip. I mean, I wouldn’t know because I’ve never dropped acid, but… it was SOMETHING. In that neat, sparse room were there REALLY bed bugs, or was it all part of the hallucination?

Still, great people, great experience, and many, many great stories… all because I stopped for people most pretend don’t exist.

For better or for worse.

It’s the middle of the night and I’ve just finished “one of those days.” At the same time, it wasn’t all bad… it just left me melancholy and feeling a bit hopeless.

The good bits? For the first time in a really long time I had someone who listened and told me they were sorry and how much what was happening sucked. To individuals that have always had that, please TRUST ME, count your blessings. The last time I had a far, far worse situation I had a “good friend” tell me in the moment of crisis to just stay away then… at least that was the kindest bit of what they said. It is the most wonderful thing when something yucky happens to have someone listen then simply say, “That completely sucks, I’m so sorry!” So for that I’m overwhelmingly grateful.

The other nice thing was that another person whom hasn’t always made things easy for me actually came to my rescue – graciously. Usually this person has to let me know how much they are sacrificing for me and how I’m putting them out, but today she simply helped. It felt almost miraculous.

Still, the day seemed to want to twist me about his finger (the evil days are generally male… the truly depraved and vicious ones are obviously female). He wanted me to cower. With so many negative things piling up and his fierce vigilance at trying to bring me down, a simple conversation where I perceived that someone of importance in my life didn’t have faith in me for that which I’m striving toward was "the thing." You know, the tipping point. The day got his way. I crumbled.

I tried to process, but get angry when I can’t get past the self flagellation, so I thought escape was a good idea… in the form of organization (my go-to for feeling in control again) and a film. I chose, at random, Up in the Air. A movie about a man who had made an art of pairing down – great right? I’m working on that daily! – and a life of travel – so my goal! – only to discover that it’s all really about connections with people, and he didn’t actually have any. *Sigh.* Yes, let’s make me feel that much more crappy about my life and where I’m heading.

So. How do I then proceed? I’m a person who loves connections, but have never had one that… held out. I’m okay with that. I will continue to enjoy them for however long and on whatever level they are extended. Would it be nice to have one last? Most definitely. But in the mean time, I have to try to go for my dream, one step at a time. Even if it means I may be further isolating myself. I hope that’s not where this leads, but I will pursue regardless.

I’ll survive today’s adversity in large thanks to a lovely connection I have with a great person who knew to say, “I get it and I’m sorry.” I must have faith that my life will be graced with a few others that will also know how to listen and care – whom I can be there for as well. Lastly, I have to believe that whatever others think, I REALLY CAN.

Now to just get my heart to own all that… perhaps sleep is a good place to start. Thank you for indulging me in this reflective rant, and, well, good night.

Timing is everything.

I was accused recently of being a bit depressed and negative in my posts. Thing is, I wasn’t. I’m not. (And I don’t like that my wit seems to sound sad.) So when I began to ruminate on the following as something to muse on here, it seemed fitting…

In the last few days I’ve had this overwhelming sense of gratitude. It encompasses me completely as I think about certain people in my life. But even more, I’m awed by the timing of things.

Remember Toughguy? Well, our families have known each other on the periphery for more than 20 years. Life continued, we stayed separate. Fast forward to now. Out of the blue Toughguy and I connect online. We start talking, usually daily. We seem to understand each other on certain deeper levels. As we share ourselves, the strange connections come to light.

First of all, he is actually living in the exact same room I did when I lived in the Seattle area. Eerie, right? He only moved up there recently, though, and before that he lived not even two miles from me. We frequented the same supermarket and liquor store a block from my house. We ran the same back roads at the same time of day. We relaxed at the same park. And we never noticed one another.

But had we met then, I don’t believe I would have been able to connect in the same way I can currently. The process of healing, of life, brought me to be open NOW. So it took all the missing each other to find each other at the right moment… likely for both of us. As a result I have this rich, and I believe abiding, friendship. That’s really an amazing thing.

The same thing with my friend Sky. We’ve been close for a couple years now, but when she came along it was right on the heels of two people I deeply cared about walking away from me for reasons I never quite understood. But at that time, she and I both needed what the other had to offer – unencumbered acceptance, which is to say, true friendship.

In that, I believe I helped her through some dark times, but I KNOW she saved me. Put me on the path to mindful health. How incredible is that? Had that friendship come earlier, I might have been tied up with those other two people and she might have been lost in the all-consuming day-to-day of a job she hated (and had just left when we met). But we connected at that moment when we both were… ready.

It’s inspiring. But mostly, it’s just humbling. I’m so grateful. I’m so blessed.

Vision.

Over the course of several months last year, when in need of hope and encouragement, I put together a portfolio of images and sayings of what I wanted to make manifest in my life. It is a take on the Visualization Boards that are popular in various circles and schools of thought today.

I was quite pleased and proud of how mine turned out, because of course as an artist each page is visually impacting. Some of the pages focused on my plans to move to Scotland in the near future, some on my hopes for my spiritual life, some on my sports goals, and some on my visions for my writing, as well as other topics like financial stability, travel, and lifestyle.

But most of all, I took a quote from an ad for a television show and manipulated it a bit, making it my current life mantra…

For a while I was reading this out every day, and I still regularly go over it. It’s been really fun to see how things not only within, but without begin to change; things begin to happen. (I mean, my bro wasn’t even expecting when I adopted this!) I guess this is just an encouragement to you, and a reminder to me, to keep you sights on what you most want from life and to remember in the stress of it all exactly who you are… and draw strength from that knowledge.

Momentum.

I am a little in awe of life at the moment. I’ve had a pretty rough run in recent years, and still have residue of those situations to contend with and clean out, but in the last few weeks really good things have been happening.

Simple yet vital things, like major strides in recovery of my ankle after surgery, and rather extraordinary things like becoming an auntie for the first time. With all the other things in between, I’m starting to feel like ME again… not because things are going well, but because I’m so much more invested.

My precious niece Abigail

I think the most fun thing that has occurred recently has been connecting with a rather fabulous man. It is quite early and he lives, oh, about 900 miles away, but it’s been an amazing start and I can’t wait to see where the journey, whatever its length and depth, will take me. It is all the permutations of possibilities that remind me to keep hoping for things in other areas of my life as well. (And yes, he’s following this blog, so no juicy details will be dispensed! Well, yet anyway. Hee-hee!)

It’s a bit like the opening of a flower – it’s a slow process, but every stage has it’s own beauty. I think the most significant part of these early stages has been the work I have put in. That’s where the reward lies… and even more so when I consider that this is exactly the part that I have control over. The energy and effort I give, the work I put in, is up to me. So here I go – work, work, work!

***

I just wanted to give a shout out to the wonderful people whom have chosen to follow me so early on – I’m excited to undertake this journey with you by my side. Cheers!