Combat Rolls

Today is Low's birthday. So Geronimo and I sit on a dark Virginian wrap-around porch, the second day of summer, surrounded by lightening bugs and frog songs, listening to the entire Rumours album by Fleetwood Mac. Researching our next chapter. This spring, while in Colorado with Spencer, I had the pleasure of running into my best Environmental Studies buddy. Anna. Anna from Cambridge and Vermont, who daily shot pure maple syrup. Beautiful Anna was wrapping up her Public Policy and Health MS from Colorado State and beamed as she told of world travel plans. Different continents for each season in the upcoming year... I'll say she's mastering something... a different sort of health. And I've been SO excited for her adventures... to see what they will bring. But I found an insight of a different sort a few days ago from Anna, in the form of an F Scott Fitzgerald quote... "And I hope you see things that startle you. I hope you feel things you never felt before. I hope you meet people with a different point of view. I hope you live a life you’re proud of. If you find that you’re not, I hope you have the strength to start all over again.” So I go deeper down the rabbit hole. Perfectly content to find one open window to crawl through, into the next chapter. Reaching into the dark for the same vigor and strength that took a heartbroken 18 year old girl to Montana. Afterall,it doesn't much matter which way you go... you're sure to get somewhere if you only walk long enough. So says the Cheshire Cat to Alice. I've been overcome by water lately. Paddling. Fishing. Watching. Praying. Spencer tries to coax a roll out of me and in the midst of "getting over the doubt in my eyes" I remember finesse. That finely lucid grip of guiding and understanding. Where what I want, and what the river wants are the same. And we dance. Fluidity. In the meantime... I've vowed to spend this time, these days, as if they were the last. A last adventure, a last conversation, a last Virginian summer dusk to watch lightening bugs rise out of the grass. And love every beautiful, fluid, unknown moment of it.

Spring. We are warming and warming here with temperate sunny days punctuated by chilled rains. Rivers are full enough, that vitamin D is rocking my world, and I may just be taking full advantage of the lack of work hours I've been scheduled for. Last week I snuck away to the Rockies for a whirlwind trip driving a best friend east to a Virginia return. Ahhhh the open road. Springer fever? New seasons? Wonder. Move. Breathe. It's almost like coming out of hibernation. And although this season is not void of its own challenges - as a whole the world feels warmer, brighter, and vibrant. Scheming and dreaming are inevitable and perhaps more epic stories - just around the river bend.

the birds are quiet

when the sky is dark
creaks and strains float through my window
of heavy metal grinding steel rails
a muffled whistle of man made transportation
quietened by ever growing spring leaves

Rebirth

Although this winter has been mild and mostly snowless, I found myself hibernating in a sense. Digging in those heels to hunker down into a survivor mentality of a "what must be done" focus.
I find investment levels to be high, with small daily triumphs but little over-arching payback.
And ready or not, the trees wake up.
The past two weeks have afforded me multiple epic walks - on mountain ridges, through city alleyways - with family and dear friends.
Somewhere in the steady pace of genuine fellowship while new petal blossoms rain around us I feel a new season approaching - around me and in me.
So much anxiety from this fall as winter approached is melting away while my little nook of the planet warms.
And I am grateful - for a dynamic life, the blessing of landing on my feet, and fresh opportunities.
Spring always surprises me.

even ing

In a busy life of work, class, and chasing much coveted sleep I find rare moments to recharge. The past week I've squeaked out quite a few saunters in quiet non-societal pastures and woodlands.
The day-night transition is vibrant, the moon nearly full, and I surrender worry - stress - questions. With the simple free exhale of a day's close.
In these moments I feel at home -hands in anatomical position brushing tall grass or pines - fully present - heart happy.
In this space my thoughts sometimes linger to past chapters - companions who shared freedom and landscapes with me - who know me in this way.
Fearfully and wonderfully made to rejoice in the quiet grandeur of the wild. In the stillness of a calm home.

February 26, 2011 6pm I81 S

light melts into the horizon
silhouettes stand stark against dusky hues

we find sharper truth with poignant illumination

middle ground swirls around rooted steadfastness
a symbiotic existence - against the odds

we find deeper beauty with coexisting conflict

pierced in the dusk
a dynamic transience of light and shifting shadow

I am happily at home

a crepuscular creature
curious with sensory and motion and stillness

left only to thankfulness

North Country Girl

Hiking through the rugged White Mountains of New Hampshire afforded me many life lessons / experiences. Dense coniferous forests, mosses, carnivorous plants, rugged rocky ridges - defying treeline, cloud mist, and many other weather phenomenon. They had been highly touted amongst my friends who marinated in their enchantment previously - but it wasn't until being engulfed - and perhaps looking back - that I wrap my head around them.
Boreal.
At street crossing you'll find interpretive signs - explanations of plant and animal species of these great northern forests. Somewhat reminiscent for me of Montana. Strange eerie not exactly silence to walk through - a boreal forest. Wind is tangible, palpable whisping needles sil nylon. I came to listen to it - allow the enchantment to pull me deeper and further north.
Not that I enjoyed every moment of my time with Boreas - he was at times too loud, too forceful, too unrelenting - but for the most part he allowed myself and travel companions safe and euphoric traveling through these enchanting forests.
There are few times I've been with him since. Occasionally on a no so quiet night in Montana, or a treed summit in Virginia, or tonight.
Tonight for nearly the first time this winter I find my life and nature aligning. I walk outside with a down blanket wrapped around me, stars gleaming.
Winter.
And I exhale.
Brushing my lips, caressing my hair, drawing my heart forward in my chest.
Alluring. Cleansing. Strange and wild comfort.
Boreas.
Tell me soft secrets on your silent roaring winds. That you and I, remember each other as fair and lovely.
Boreassssss I whisper back.
And return indoors to the fire.