Scooching

From a journal entry-- 9/25/2010

Just read through the whole first half of this journal... Watched the inside scenery, the emotional terrain shift and slowly melt... like a glacier, making its way down the mountainside. Carefully, gently, surely-- arriving in new places incrementally until the distance has finally grown into miles from where it started.

"You've come a long way, baby."


En route to Montrose, CO

Wishing On

In a field at sunrise, somewhere in Northern Arizona.

Maybe Grace is a bird that takes both of us up to the clouds
And we'll ride on her wings, and we'll soar
And we'll be safe and sound.
She'll fly 'round the earth, keeping pace with the quiet sunrise;
We'll see color and light
And have only awakening eyes.



*

Cave Falls; Bechler; Yellowstone Park

With Nicole.

People are making/breaking my life these days. Mostly making it. But seriously-- a waterfall on its own is a beautiful thing. A waterfall with a friend? Well, that's a picture worth framing.

I always call Nicole my bad-ass friend. She's a ranger in Yellowstone, and completely hard-core. We were travel buddies in Europe, and I love her times infinity.

Life is best when shared, isn't it? I'm so lucky to have good people to share it with.

Wait---

Split second.

Joshua Tree Park, 108 degrees.

At Last

A half hour out of Montrose, CO.

This pic was taken on the same day as the previous blog's picture. My goal on this day was to get to Denver, but the 3:30am wake up time meant I was dying by 4:30pm. I kept passing stream after cool stream, and more than anything, I wanted to get in them somehow. Finally, around 5:00 I called Annie and told her I just didn't have the stamina for five more hours of driving. She called her family friends in Montrose-- the wonderful, wonderful Claders-- and arranged for me to stay there.

So I stopped at the very next stream.

And got out of my car.

And breathed.

And played.

And sometimes, I think, breathing and playing makes all the difference in the world.

Infinity

Early morning, driving from the Grand Canyon through Arizona along the 89, to the 160.

I tried to catch a sunrise in the desert on this particular morning, and got up at 3:30am. I didn't make it to the desert in time, but made it to this sun-swept field when the sun was still in its baby years. I saw horses grazing in the gold, and felt stunned at the way the light lit up the world. I took picture after picture, running from place to place with a floating heart while my Honda purred on the shoulder.

Let morning be eternal; let me remember this dancing moment. Let me remember that, at my furthest point away from home, I was already experiencing something of a wonderful, open, shimmering, eternal abode.

This picture makes me feel free.

Road Trip Pics

I've tried. I have a blog half-written with at least 15 road trip pictures uploaded. But it's just taking way, waaaay too long to go through them all, sort them all, and caption them all on this blog, when they're already all up on facebook.

So I'll do one a day. Or maybe a couple. I'll post in bits until all the good ones are posted. And maybe, if I have time to tell you a story behind the pics, I will. And if I don't, I won't.

In any case, this is the moment I want to remember right now:




En route to Denver. The day was warm and I was sleepy. Looked for a spot of shade to nap in and found one under a pine tree next to a wide open field. There were mountains in the distance and wildflowers at my fingertips. I slept, and was safe, and felt cradled in impossible beauty.

The Long Way

July 5th marked the embarkment. Let the road trip officially begin.

The first stop on the agenda is (was) my hometown: Vancouver. I've driven this stretch of I-5 more times than I can count and it is abysmal driving. No matter what kind of weather or day or time... it's traffic-ridden and gross.

This road trip is not supposed to be about traffic-ridden-gross-ness. This road trip is supposed to be about discovery and whimsy and beauty and air. Therefore, I determined I would forsake I-5 in all its trafficky squalor and take the 101-- the scenic route. The long way.

It turned out to be the right choice. 101 was lined with wildflowers, and coastal views, and rustic buildings, and gorgeous sights.










I kept pulling off the main highway so that I could follow skinny little roads until they ended, which was delicious.



And there were wildflowers EVERYWHERE-- they were so beautiful! In fact today I went to Home Depot to buy wildflower seed packets, so that I can scatter them from my window as I drive.


This all prompted a thought. I am about to be honest now-- prepare thyself.

When I tell people I am going on a road trip by myself, they typically exhibit one of two facial expressions-- or both, if they're especially talented and adequately free of botox. The first implies: "Oh wow-- that's so sad." The second: "Oh wow-- that's bad a**."

It's a little of both, I suppose. One of the reasons I'm going on a big solo road trip is to process through a recent break-up-- a hard break-up. The fact that I'm alone on a road trip-- so often a duo-endeavor-- reinforces the fact, I suppose, that I am not with this person. It further reinforces the fact, in a season of countless weddings, engagement parties, and bridal showers, that I don't have a person I could have invited to come along with me. At least, not one that I'd be ready to share this type of trip with, in all its intimate soul searching. This is the "that's so sad" part.

However, the second part is also true. I think a solo road trip is pretty bad-a**. I like adventures. Furthermore, I will pat myself on the back in this moment and say: I'm good at adventuring. I have played my guitar in London markets. I have danced on Irish moors, and found the literal end of the rainbow. I have climbed to the tops of Mayan ruins in a Belizean jungle, and snorkeled with schools of manta rays. I think I got to a point right around 21 where I concluded, "Well-- so long as I'm still single, I better make the most of my independence." That has resulted in countless, FANTASTIC adventures.

The pictures above are evidence of me seeing the world through my own eyes-- they're evidence of a self that is free to pull over exactly when she wants to, and take pictures of exactly what she finds remarkable. I'm adventuring by myself, and bottling up my own ideas of beauty-- and I think that's both brave (bad-a**, if you will)-- and exhilarating.

Some people don't take the long way. My older brother and younger sister both found their life-loves at a young age; Shane is only a year and a half older than me, but already has a 4-year-old and an almost-2-year-old. He took a "quicker" way than I did--- and I can't begin to describe how beautiful my niece and nephew are. The manifestations of Shane's "way" are breath-taking. Likewise, to see my sister Heidi and her husband make their way together-- it is an incredible, inspiring way to watch.

But that's not the way I'm taking.

I'm taking the long way.

And after passing wildflowers, ocean, and glorious views... I'm beginning to realize that that's the only way someone like me should take.


.

Bubble Magic (road-trip preface)

The other day, I walked down to Greenlake to blow bubbles. The best part about blowing bubbles is that I almost always make new toddler friends, and this day was no exception. A two-year-old and a four-year-old crowed and clapped and danced all around me, stomping the bubbles that rested on the ground, while the other bubbles lifted and dodged the chubby hands of their would-be assassins.

Getting ready to leave, I had a sudden impulse to give the bubbles away. Another little girl walked by with her dad. "Does your little girl want some bubbles?" I asked.
The little girl looked at me shyly. "No thank you," she said.
I smiled. "Are you sure?"
"Yes."
The dad smiled at me and nodded. "Thank you!"

I was resolute on giving them away at that point though. Had determined: the world needs more bubble-blowers. Tried to discreetly evaluate the various couples and roller-skaters and stroller pushers as they walked by, thinking to myself, "Do you need these bubbles?" Took a break to kick off my flip-flops and climb out on a tree that stretched over the water. Stayed there for a little while, just thinking.

Walking home resumed. Finally, approaching a bus-stop, I saw a morose looking teenage girl, dressed all in black, with her chin in her hands and her hair covering her face.

I cheerfully walked up to her. "Hi! Do you want some bubbles?"

The transformation was instant: she straightened up, her face split open into this HUGE smile, and she said "THANK you!!"

And then the world suddenly became magical-- it was like I'd found the magic key to get into another more sparkly world by picking the right girl to give bubbles to, and once she had them-- the world seriously transformed. EVERY person I passed by made eye contact with me and smiled. Drivers waved at me. Motorcyclists yelled nice things to me from their bikes. Seriously! I was suddenly friends with the whole world!

This is why I blow bubbles.

(I mean, among other reasons.)

THIS:-- forging brief, powerful connections with strangers-- is one of my very most favorite things to do. I'm about to leave on this great big road trip-- a 3-week road trip-- and I'm going by myself. Which means that most people I interact with are going to be strangers.

So I'm hoping for more bubble moments.

AND: I'm hoping for more tree-climbing moments. Hoping for lots of road-side pull-overs so I can just get out of my car for ten minutes and marvel at the world. Hoping for whimsy, and beauty, and lots of reflection. Hoping to make many new friends. Hoping for lots of good prayer, and for gradual healing in the sore spots.

Before I leave though, I have to do all kinds of hideous tasks. I have to learn TWO new pieces of technology today-- my camera and my blue-tooth. I have to try to clean out the hard drive on this computer so that it might actually work when it's on the road. I have to get road trip snacks. I have to have someone look at my car (this is what I'm dreading most) to make sure it's going to survive this trip. (What if they say I need a new transmission??) I need to get a working CD player. I need to get a new front tire. I need to pack.

AND: I need to get another bottle of bubbles. Because I gave my other bottle away, and because you never know when you might have a bubbles-emergency.

First stop will be staying with my family down south in Vancouver, WA. After that will be Ashland, San Francisco, L.A., and San Diego-- then on to Denver... then to infinity and beyond.

Stay tuned: traveling blogs to come.