Saturday, October 29, 2011
Saturday, October 15, 2011
Family
My father died when I was a young boy and an unsettling secret came to the surface. I was adopted. Their eyes shifted from the side of the elevator as they told me. It was on his deathbed that he demanded that I know. Maybe he always wanted me to know. My mother would have never told me, but maybe he could see the coming storm and how the rest of my family would treat me after he died.
So why does any of this matter at 28? Surely, with great humor, I have settled the score with myself that my family affairs are a bit crazy. They are a bit less than what I want in my life. However, at 28, I also feel the sting of not belonging to any family. I have been too wrapped up in my own work to make any relationship prosper. Therefore, I have no family of my own. As far as the aforementioned family, people I grew up with as sisters "friend" me on Facebook only to claim me as their cousin. My "sister" does not even respond to a request to have dinner while I am in the same city as her for nearly three weeks. This was the very sister who saved me from so much heartache after my father first passed. She introduced me to the mountains, to the only thing that held my mind open to the world and its possibilities. Now, she is but a stranger to me. Other sisters treat me as a stranger all together. I have seen one sister in a grocery store where her eyes shifted and she acted as if I was a stranger. I feel I was never really a part of this family. I was but a stranger popping in to say hello.
Other than this family, I have a biological one. Mostly, I have two sisters and a brother. My brother and I talk from time to time. His work carries him all over the world. He lives in exotic places and always has an exciting story, or three, to share. We get along, but we have never spent that much time together in person. We have always been so far away from each other. My oldest sister and I are not so close at all. We are closer in distance, but not so very close when it comes to talking about things. She has a busy life and two young ones who mean the world to her. The other sister is but 15 and estranged from me by distance and a very different style of life.
Most mornings I don't even think about any of this. I could care less.
But when I do, I realize how alone I am.
Adventure leads me back to some connection with the world. I wish I had some big adventure to take my mind from all this. Yet, here in Illinois, I have none. The mountains are not here, and most of my truer friends have left in search of their own mountains. I wake up feeling despondent on mornings like this. So I bury myself in a book about water and go on.
"Life for you has been less than kind
So take a number, stand in line
We've all been sorry, we've all been hurt
But how we survive, is what makes us who we are" - Rise Against
So why does any of this matter at 28? Surely, with great humor, I have settled the score with myself that my family affairs are a bit crazy. They are a bit less than what I want in my life. However, at 28, I also feel the sting of not belonging to any family. I have been too wrapped up in my own work to make any relationship prosper. Therefore, I have no family of my own. As far as the aforementioned family, people I grew up with as sisters "friend" me on Facebook only to claim me as their cousin. My "sister" does not even respond to a request to have dinner while I am in the same city as her for nearly three weeks. This was the very sister who saved me from so much heartache after my father first passed. She introduced me to the mountains, to the only thing that held my mind open to the world and its possibilities. Now, she is but a stranger to me. Other sisters treat me as a stranger all together. I have seen one sister in a grocery store where her eyes shifted and she acted as if I was a stranger. I feel I was never really a part of this family. I was but a stranger popping in to say hello.
Other than this family, I have a biological one. Mostly, I have two sisters and a brother. My brother and I talk from time to time. His work carries him all over the world. He lives in exotic places and always has an exciting story, or three, to share. We get along, but we have never spent that much time together in person. We have always been so far away from each other. My oldest sister and I are not so close at all. We are closer in distance, but not so very close when it comes to talking about things. She has a busy life and two young ones who mean the world to her. The other sister is but 15 and estranged from me by distance and a very different style of life.
Most mornings I don't even think about any of this. I could care less.
But when I do, I realize how alone I am.
Adventure leads me back to some connection with the world. I wish I had some big adventure to take my mind from all this. Yet, here in Illinois, I have none. The mountains are not here, and most of my truer friends have left in search of their own mountains. I wake up feeling despondent on mornings like this. So I bury myself in a book about water and go on.
"Life for you has been less than kind
So take a number, stand in line
We've all been sorry, we've all been hurt
But how we survive, is what makes us who we are" - Rise Against
Monday, September 19, 2011
Darkness
Allow the senses to come alive. Close off the known world. Go inward to find a pattern in the abstraction of sounds ... or find calmness in the silence.
Such is darkness.
It shrouds the known, but the reality is still the same. Some fear darkness. I do not. In the absence of light, the world does not become a dark place. The world still "shines" with life, some breathing more freely, more succinctly outside the grasp of daytime predators.
I find solace in the darkness when I can walk and be by myself with my thoughts. Lately, I have had much on my mind. Soon, I shall break out my headlamp and go trekking through the night.
Maybe I can make better sense of things.
Such is darkness.
It shrouds the known, but the reality is still the same. Some fear darkness. I do not. In the absence of light, the world does not become a dark place. The world still "shines" with life, some breathing more freely, more succinctly outside the grasp of daytime predators.
I find solace in the darkness when I can walk and be by myself with my thoughts. Lately, I have had much on my mind. Soon, I shall break out my headlamp and go trekking through the night.
Maybe I can make better sense of things.
Sunday, August 21, 2011
gaining steam
Exhale. My breath bubbles up around my head.
Reach. My hand slides into the water.
Push. My tricep tightens as my hand thrusts my body forward.
My feet kick. My mind turns. Exhale. Reach. Push. Over and over.
BREATHE.
And somewhere in there, I find a rhythm, and am suddenly ... OK. I once looked at this water and thought it would be nice to be able to swim 10 laps without stopping. Tonight, I swam 38. Two days ago, I swam 40 in 40 minutes. I still feel slow. Yet, I am improving.
And it is still so early to write about what has happened so recently. It was part of my decision on Long's Peak. It was part of a decision to no longer settle, to no longer just get by, but to aspire and conquer the moment, to make a mark, to make those first steps to the life I really want. I have so many times in the past let life slip by, not danced when I should have, not shouted out when the moment called for it. I have moved at a slower rhythm than what I could have because it was easier that way. I thought if I did not put my full effort forward, I could not blame myself if I failed.
That is no life!
Zion was a turning point for me. Long's Peak was the corner where I gain steam and set my rhythm. This year will not be the crucible. This year words gain actions.
The proof of the pudding is in the eating.
Reach. My hand slides into the water.
Push. My tricep tightens as my hand thrusts my body forward.
My feet kick. My mind turns. Exhale. Reach. Push. Over and over.
BREATHE.
And somewhere in there, I find a rhythm, and am suddenly ... OK. I once looked at this water and thought it would be nice to be able to swim 10 laps without stopping. Tonight, I swam 38. Two days ago, I swam 40 in 40 minutes. I still feel slow. Yet, I am improving.
And it is still so early to write about what has happened so recently. It was part of my decision on Long's Peak. It was part of a decision to no longer settle, to no longer just get by, but to aspire and conquer the moment, to make a mark, to make those first steps to the life I really want. I have so many times in the past let life slip by, not danced when I should have, not shouted out when the moment called for it. I have moved at a slower rhythm than what I could have because it was easier that way. I thought if I did not put my full effort forward, I could not blame myself if I failed.
That is no life!
Zion was a turning point for me. Long's Peak was the corner where I gain steam and set my rhythm. This year will not be the crucible. This year words gain actions.
The proof of the pudding is in the eating.
Sunday, August 07, 2011
The sun fell away from the granite mountains. I stood in the middle of two peaks on the side of another, 13,000 feet high, shivering and unprepared for the absence of the sun. The heat made its farewell. The cold introduced itself. I shunned its surprise intensity. As often happens when I find myself unprepared, I started to doubt. I started crave any semblance of comfort I could latch onto. Did I err in taking this chance without the gear I may have needed? Visions of WFR training flashed in my mind. No! I reasoned with myself. This vision is a fairy tale. I may be cold. I may be cold all night. However, there was something more to be done. It may rain on me in the night, my bag may freeze, and I may find myself shivering and lacking enough gear. Yet, this was not the case right then. It was merely my imagination trying to fix everything before it happened.
As I lay there, I began to let all the possibilities go. I would sleep a few hours, wiggle out of my sleeping bag, and then immediately awaken to the shock of the cold wind against my body. Soon the sound of footsteps and labored voices found their way up the side of the mountain. A few would stop, ask me silly questions such as, "How'd you sleep? Cold?" Har har ...
I cleaned up my gear, and stared up at the mountain. It looked ferociously cold, yet what was the journey for if I didn't just tough it out. A man came by and offered me a hat for my bald head, and suddenly all doubt vanished. I could not let this good gesture go without an accomplishment. I soon found myself at the summit. It was just another summit for me. Yet it was about something more.
I noticed something in the night, something during the hike up, something scrambling up the side of the rock. I was soft. I was not ready in my mind for many journeys. Yet, here I was, and I was one of the people who easily scaled the peak. I was one of the people who was not out of breath at 14,000 ft. People took me for a local, and were bewildered when I told them I lived in the Midwest. The world is often a place of unimaginable possibilities, and sometimes we must foresee the possibilities that seem out of our grasp or out of our possibilities. I must shoot not for what I can accomplish in an afternoon lingering by a ranger station. I shall shoot for those things that take much work, much of my mind and much of my strength to accomplish. For Long's Peak was a fun experience, but nothing as others made it out to be.
It's time I start shooting for my real potential.
As I lay there, I began to let all the possibilities go. I would sleep a few hours, wiggle out of my sleeping bag, and then immediately awaken to the shock of the cold wind against my body. Soon the sound of footsteps and labored voices found their way up the side of the mountain. A few would stop, ask me silly questions such as, "How'd you sleep? Cold?" Har har ...
I cleaned up my gear, and stared up at the mountain. It looked ferociously cold, yet what was the journey for if I didn't just tough it out. A man came by and offered me a hat for my bald head, and suddenly all doubt vanished. I could not let this good gesture go without an accomplishment. I soon found myself at the summit. It was just another summit for me. Yet it was about something more.
I noticed something in the night, something during the hike up, something scrambling up the side of the rock. I was soft. I was not ready in my mind for many journeys. Yet, here I was, and I was one of the people who easily scaled the peak. I was one of the people who was not out of breath at 14,000 ft. People took me for a local, and were bewildered when I told them I lived in the Midwest. The world is often a place of unimaginable possibilities, and sometimes we must foresee the possibilities that seem out of our grasp or out of our possibilities. I must shoot not for what I can accomplish in an afternoon lingering by a ranger station. I shall shoot for those things that take much work, much of my mind and much of my strength to accomplish. For Long's Peak was a fun experience, but nothing as others made it out to be.
It's time I start shooting for my real potential.
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
A look back before the look forward.
I convince myself time and time again that some things do not matter. However, in reality, they pierce through my shell and strike at my very core. How dysfunctional I feel at times. Here I am. I live where I do not feel at home. I push most people away, and then when all of it hits me, I feel bewildered. How did I become this man? And when will it all be worth it.
My brother once told me that I was too focused on the future. He said I would miss the present. I do not feel he is completely right. I climb when I can. I try to dive into the social scene as much as I can. I bike. I run. I swim. I go on random adventures. Yet, I hold back a piece of me while I am here. I cannot go all out. I cannot be my full self. I am so scared of staying here. I became distant from Alice simply for the reason of saving myself from staying here for two extra years. Was it worth it?
I am traveling to Colorado for three weeks come this weekend. I have many things planned. This trip has been a long time coming. I need to revamp my spirits and intellect. If I have learned anything from all of this, it is this: I must believe in myself and my actions. I cannot afford to dilly dally and question all my actions. This will be a great time to reflect on who I am, what I want and where I shall go.
This year will be a time of many changes. I shall apply to law school, finish my master's degree and train for three races, one which seems nearly impossible at this point. I am already making progress with all three. Nothing is impossible.
"We aim above the mark to hit the mark." - Ralph Waldo Emerson.
My brother once told me that I was too focused on the future. He said I would miss the present. I do not feel he is completely right. I climb when I can. I try to dive into the social scene as much as I can. I bike. I run. I swim. I go on random adventures. Yet, I hold back a piece of me while I am here. I cannot go all out. I cannot be my full self. I am so scared of staying here. I became distant from Alice simply for the reason of saving myself from staying here for two extra years. Was it worth it?
I am traveling to Colorado for three weeks come this weekend. I have many things planned. This trip has been a long time coming. I need to revamp my spirits and intellect. If I have learned anything from all of this, it is this: I must believe in myself and my actions. I cannot afford to dilly dally and question all my actions. This will be a great time to reflect on who I am, what I want and where I shall go.
This year will be a time of many changes. I shall apply to law school, finish my master's degree and train for three races, one which seems nearly impossible at this point. I am already making progress with all three. Nothing is impossible.
"We aim above the mark to hit the mark." - Ralph Waldo Emerson.
Monday, July 18, 2011
Negative Nancy Post.
Maybe this is a bit in the moment and maybe I am taking too much from this; however there is an evident pattern happening here.
I really hope I don't spend the rest of my life alone. I feel that I am too easily forgotten.
I really hope I don't spend the rest of my life alone. I feel that I am too easily forgotten.
Thursday, July 07, 2011
To lose a friend is an awful thing.
To lose and pretend one's loss is but a trifle when it is simply not has become a specialty of mine. I will have to face it one day, but here, in the present, I march forward into more mysterious days. Expressed later as a tear or a grip of sorrow, I will wince away and prevent anyone from seeing it. I know some will know when I start to fall into a melancholy state of mind of how I carry loss for some time afterward. By now, even I realize, the amount of pain perceived later will be greater than the amount of pain I receive now. Yet time is of the essence now. I cannot slow down.
Soon I will be alone on a path in the mountains, camping underneath the stars and collecting myself before this final onslaught before law school. I shall then shed tears for those friends who were lost, who conveyed that their real interests were not in friendships, but rather in words. Maybe, as they say, I am too dramatic. Yet what is the value of a friendship if it is only expressed in words? For me, a friend is someone nearer and truer. A friend is someone I should/would give up something great to end his/her struggle. A friend for me is someone truly special. If one does not value my friendship, I shall not carry it too far. I would rather it fall by the wayside, and hope it sprouts legs and walks back and proves that I was wrong in my pursuit to cast it out. I have friends who are fun and funny, witty and intelligent, deep and caring, terse and straight, lonely and wandering, curious and wondering. I have friends of all types. They are sometimes the only ones I can count on.
I know that for some, I will never be a good friend. I will never be able to give them what they need. However sad it may be, part of life is acceptance. I shall accept this reality, and move towards those who need me or want me in their life.
"A friend to all is a friend to none." - Aristotle.
Soon I will be alone on a path in the mountains, camping underneath the stars and collecting myself before this final onslaught before law school. I shall then shed tears for those friends who were lost, who conveyed that their real interests were not in friendships, but rather in words. Maybe, as they say, I am too dramatic. Yet what is the value of a friendship if it is only expressed in words? For me, a friend is someone nearer and truer. A friend is someone I should/would give up something great to end his/her struggle. A friend for me is someone truly special. If one does not value my friendship, I shall not carry it too far. I would rather it fall by the wayside, and hope it sprouts legs and walks back and proves that I was wrong in my pursuit to cast it out. I have friends who are fun and funny, witty and intelligent, deep and caring, terse and straight, lonely and wandering, curious and wondering. I have friends of all types. They are sometimes the only ones I can count on.
I know that for some, I will never be a good friend. I will never be able to give them what they need. However sad it may be, part of life is acceptance. I shall accept this reality, and move towards those who need me or want me in their life.
"A friend to all is a friend to none." - Aristotle.
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Wisdom and Courage
Deep, green, iridescent swirls spiral downward and across in a slow moving spring somewhere. The stones that sleep at the side of this pool, lay covered with the inscriptions of ten thousand years. Humble is the one who stands at the side of this well. His feet press against the stone where he too must make his inscription. His mind traces the unforgiving eddies. Is his heart calm? Or does it leap at each beat, artfully chasing the rhythm of his desires? Only his heart can tell him what inscription to make. Once an inscription is made, he knows the only thing to do is jump. It is the unknown that scares him the most.
Somewhere is my spring and my inscription. I pray for the wisdom to make my inscription. I pray for the courage to jump.
Somewhere is my spring and my inscription. I pray for the wisdom to make my inscription. I pray for the courage to jump.
Friday, June 10, 2011
The Scene Aesthetic
How great the aesthetics of this world do affect me. The white, puffy clouds, grow and flow outward against the crystal blue sky. Relaxation shimmers in a silent, meandering spring. Inspiration to aspiration flows down across me with the wind as it rips down silent, granite peaks in an intrinsic, inescapable melody. I am connected to these beautiful instances.
I look into my mind accepting and expecting nothing less than this dynamism. Yet, from time to time, I find myself not following this happier path. I find myself falling and then waking in the stream of discontent. The aesthetics of my social world greatly affect me. The people I allow into my life either help me balance and succeed, or they - with their self-destructive forces - twist my optimism enough to pull me from my path.
Carbondale is a dangerous place. Sometimes, it feels as if I am on a river, paddling against the current. Behind me, there is a giant waterfall, and I have seen not only the water's edge, but the mist wafting from the canyon floor. This past winter, I became so depressed as I struggled to find someone to trust. I thought countless times of how it could fall apart, of how I again may slip into poverty. (Even if I intentionally slipped last time, I feel as if I came too close to not being able to support myself. I lost a lot of confidence in the process.)
I have some great friends here. Yet I am also introduced to those who will only tear me from a better aesthetic. I want to see the best in everyone, but I must keep guard. It is beyond me how so many get swept into so much self destruction when there is, truly is, so much beauty in this world.
I look into my mind accepting and expecting nothing less than this dynamism. Yet, from time to time, I find myself not following this happier path. I find myself falling and then waking in the stream of discontent. The aesthetics of my social world greatly affect me. The people I allow into my life either help me balance and succeed, or they - with their self-destructive forces - twist my optimism enough to pull me from my path.
Carbondale is a dangerous place. Sometimes, it feels as if I am on a river, paddling against the current. Behind me, there is a giant waterfall, and I have seen not only the water's edge, but the mist wafting from the canyon floor. This past winter, I became so depressed as I struggled to find someone to trust. I thought countless times of how it could fall apart, of how I again may slip into poverty. (Even if I intentionally slipped last time, I feel as if I came too close to not being able to support myself. I lost a lot of confidence in the process.)
I have some great friends here. Yet I am also introduced to those who will only tear me from a better aesthetic. I want to see the best in everyone, but I must keep guard. It is beyond me how so many get swept into so much self destruction when there is, truly is, so much beauty in this world.
Saturday, May 28, 2011
Be Earnest
Truth be told, my last post was not too sincere. I guess sometimes we have to pick whether we want to digest all the truth and accept the reality of the situation or live in fantasy.
Truth is important. It's acceptance shapes the perception for everything. I would rather accept the world for how it is.
I have a way of not liking some of my decisions. Yet, for many reasons, I do not make decisions for absurd reasons. I have no idea how a situation may change after my decision. I am simply a man who has to do the best with what he has got.
I have great friends who celebrate the light and stand by me in the darkness. Thank you.
I am also very grateful for who I am and for the experiences that have led me this way.
Some distant day maybe people will stop seeing me for who I am not. They might see that I don't live as a reckless figure, but as a man who has a plan to live a peaceful life; someone who can fall asleep knowing he did not take his excess from one who could not afford to lose a morsel. My conscience hangs over me as a wise, old friend. He reminds me that even in the darkest of times, it is not worth losing the truer aspects of my soul. For this, I am very thankful. For now, while some see me in such a dismal light, I shall stare up into those cherished stars while remembering my younger self on so many lonely, warm nights. I burned for everything back then. I would have accepted anyone. I would have forgiven anyone. I let my heart loose and wished for so much.
So I have been burnt a few times now ... Truth is that I live for this. I live for the optimism that I may someday find what I have searched so far for.
Truth is important. It's acceptance shapes the perception for everything. I would rather accept the world for how it is.
I have a way of not liking some of my decisions. Yet, for many reasons, I do not make decisions for absurd reasons. I have no idea how a situation may change after my decision. I am simply a man who has to do the best with what he has got.
I have great friends who celebrate the light and stand by me in the darkness. Thank you.
I am also very grateful for who I am and for the experiences that have led me this way.
Some distant day maybe people will stop seeing me for who I am not. They might see that I don't live as a reckless figure, but as a man who has a plan to live a peaceful life; someone who can fall asleep knowing he did not take his excess from one who could not afford to lose a morsel. My conscience hangs over me as a wise, old friend. He reminds me that even in the darkest of times, it is not worth losing the truer aspects of my soul. For this, I am very thankful. For now, while some see me in such a dismal light, I shall stare up into those cherished stars while remembering my younger self on so many lonely, warm nights. I burned for everything back then. I would have accepted anyone. I would have forgiven anyone. I let my heart loose and wished for so much.
So I have been burnt a few times now ... Truth is that I live for this. I live for the optimism that I may someday find what I have searched so far for.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Well ... That's what I get.
I fell in love with a young girl. I knew what was going to happen, and then it did. What a bummer! C'est la vie. I never expected too much from the relationship anyway. If not for Zion, it would not have compared to too many of my other relationships ... Zion was amazing.
I need to get back out West. I need to be more picky about who I date also. Yet, I am glad I was optimistic enough to believe in it in the first place.
I shall be optimistic again. With that I say good night, for I go back to my first love (beautiful rock climbing) tomorrow. :-)
Saturday, May 14, 2011
My hope is a young tree
I sat with someone last night, and I wondered why I had cared so much so long ago. In the night, sitting there talking, I felt as if she was a fine girl, but I could never give her what she needs or wants from life. For love had no chance down this path.
As time courses over my soul, it roughens it in some places, smooths it in others. It leaves memories only a semblance of what they once were. The present gives a certain crispness in lieu of such fading emotions. For once, I was in love. Now, I am a man who can see the futility in it all. So instead, I will climb. I will run. I will bike. I will study and write; and I will cultivate my mind. For if there is no soul that feels utterly attached to mine, then I shall break free from the shackles of this cumbersome burden of trying to find something that does not exist.
My hope is a young tree. Given water and sunshine in its youth, it burrowed its roots deep underground. It understands that deep roots will pull up the groundwater during a drought. It understands that deep and wide roots will help keep it stable. Like any tree, it knows the higher it grows, the more storms, the more winds, the more danger it will face. Some will come and want to chop it down for the moment of energy they might gain. Some will come with their poison and try to taint the groundwater. But I have already tested the texture of this tree. I have thrown fires at it that may have killed other trees with less bark. I have given it no water and asked it to grow. I have turned my back on this tree too many times.
Nevertheless, this tree has saved me.
It has kept me from the brink and sheltered me from what is sometimes a desert of despair.
It has been nurtured by few, and it has pulled from the greatness of the unknown. It has held onto the aesthetic and basked in the glory of adventure and freedom.
This young tree will most likely endure much more. Yet, I should strive harder to give it fresher water and a fresher view.
As time courses over my soul, it roughens it in some places, smooths it in others. It leaves memories only a semblance of what they once were. The present gives a certain crispness in lieu of such fading emotions. For once, I was in love. Now, I am a man who can see the futility in it all. So instead, I will climb. I will run. I will bike. I will study and write; and I will cultivate my mind. For if there is no soul that feels utterly attached to mine, then I shall break free from the shackles of this cumbersome burden of trying to find something that does not exist.
My hope is a young tree. Given water and sunshine in its youth, it burrowed its roots deep underground. It understands that deep roots will pull up the groundwater during a drought. It understands that deep and wide roots will help keep it stable. Like any tree, it knows the higher it grows, the more storms, the more winds, the more danger it will face. Some will come and want to chop it down for the moment of energy they might gain. Some will come with their poison and try to taint the groundwater. But I have already tested the texture of this tree. I have thrown fires at it that may have killed other trees with less bark. I have given it no water and asked it to grow. I have turned my back on this tree too many times.
Nevertheless, this tree has saved me.
It has kept me from the brink and sheltered me from what is sometimes a desert of despair.
It has been nurtured by few, and it has pulled from the greatness of the unknown. It has held onto the aesthetic and basked in the glory of adventure and freedom.
This young tree will most likely endure much more. Yet, I should strive harder to give it fresher water and a fresher view.
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Exam Day
What seems impossible is just a task for which we have not devised a strategy. Steinbeck wrote that he would feel the burden of any of his books as something impossible. Yet, his writing has given birth to some of the best American prose.
I recently took a law exam. Soon, I will be measured against people who have been in the practice of studying for law and writing law exams for three years. It is as if I jumped on a harder climb to see what it is like and found myself confidently climbing. The challenge of this exam was a bit like a climb. It was scary. It was nerve wracking at times. Yet, the journey through the test and the feeling afterward made me feel amazing.
I cannot lose sight of who I am.
I cannot lose sight of what I need from this life.
I recently took a law exam. Soon, I will be measured against people who have been in the practice of studying for law and writing law exams for three years. It is as if I jumped on a harder climb to see what it is like and found myself confidently climbing. The challenge of this exam was a bit like a climb. It was scary. It was nerve wracking at times. Yet, the journey through the test and the feeling afterward made me feel amazing.
I cannot lose sight of who I am.
I cannot lose sight of what I need from this life.
Sunday, May 01, 2011
Writing for Catharsis
"You may not trust the promises in the change I show, but I will be yours if you'll be mine," Mumford & Sons sang last summer at Bonnaroo. I was just listening to it, and it forced my hand to write these words. I just needed to get them out.
I sometimes can't get over the fact we shared so much. We shared a love for reading great literature, the same literature, and the lyrics of great music carried our hearts together as we walked. So deep was our connection, that when she tempted to go out onto that vertical ledge of the climbing world, she sounded as if she knew the rhythm of my heart, and it carried back into me, and I felt excited again about the prospects of climbing in a new place. I can understand more knowing now that I cannot have her ... and knowing how great and how painful it is to share this with her. It is an empathy that stings with pain, that creases my heart to be gentler and yet braver knowing that it can endure much more than what I once thought.
I have thought a lot of where I will go this summer once the UCOWR conference and LSAT is done. I have thought maybe I will take a friend with me. I have also thought that maybe I will see my brother. I have also more recently thought that I will go off on my own for a while. I may stay in the U.S., and yet I may leave. There are benefits to both. I wonder where this world will take me?
The rain falls tonight in little drops. I will soon finish the last question in stats and then pick up a friend at the train station in the wee morning hours. I feel calm and well. Writing always seems to soothe my heart.
I sometimes can't get over the fact we shared so much. We shared a love for reading great literature, the same literature, and the lyrics of great music carried our hearts together as we walked. So deep was our connection, that when she tempted to go out onto that vertical ledge of the climbing world, she sounded as if she knew the rhythm of my heart, and it carried back into me, and I felt excited again about the prospects of climbing in a new place. I can understand more knowing now that I cannot have her ... and knowing how great and how painful it is to share this with her. It is an empathy that stings with pain, that creases my heart to be gentler and yet braver knowing that it can endure much more than what I once thought.
I have thought a lot of where I will go this summer once the UCOWR conference and LSAT is done. I have thought maybe I will take a friend with me. I have also thought that maybe I will see my brother. I have also more recently thought that I will go off on my own for a while. I may stay in the U.S., and yet I may leave. There are benefits to both. I wonder where this world will take me?
The rain falls tonight in little drops. I will soon finish the last question in stats and then pick up a friend at the train station in the wee morning hours. I feel calm and well. Writing always seems to soothe my heart.
Thursday, April 28, 2011
You there! Keep a lookout!
Out there, the desert seemed to be everywhere. Water was precious. It gave meaning to me. I felt it wash over my skin as I jumped into baby blue Lake Powell. I remember rolling through the waves like a seal, the crimson cliffs TOWERING above me. The red rock served as a constant reminder that the desert was still out there, thirsty and dangerous. Without water, I would have withered.
It is good to remember the truth of things. For even when a tiny sliver of truth remains, it will live on. The Midwest ruins the importance of water. It seems to be everywhere.
Yet, there are many things that are missing here. And if I can find them here, I am sure they will course over my rough soul just as the smooth waters of Lake Powell once coursed over my rough skin.
It is good to remember the truth of things. For even when a tiny sliver of truth remains, it will live on. The Midwest ruins the importance of water. It seems to be everywhere.
Yet, there are many things that are missing here. And if I can find them here, I am sure they will course over my rough soul just as the smooth waters of Lake Powell once coursed over my rough skin.
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Friendship
This is Easter.
I could ramble on in another of my posts. Yet, I won't.
I would give everything for a genuine hug.
It isn't so much the tasks. It is the haunting feeling that as I "progress" in life, I fall away from friends, loved ones and the more important aspects of what makes this life great.
I could ramble on in another of my posts. Yet, I won't.
I would give everything for a genuine hug.
It isn't so much the tasks. It is the haunting feeling that as I "progress" in life, I fall away from friends, loved ones and the more important aspects of what makes this life great.
The Warm Pre-summer Drizzle
The leaves are out again. Their presence brings about a renewal of life. Presently, a warm drizzle wafts down from above. Today reminds me of Pennsylvania.
~ I finished my first year of university. I was down about leaving Colorado, but excited about a journey that brought me back to something more fulfilling and meaningful. It was an adventure for a purpose, but it meandered in a grand way. I had met a kindred spirit (the first I had met in my 19 years). We had written letters back and forth since meeting. It was a rambling poetic prose that fed from the vigor of our youth and expression of two poetic hearts. Back then, I thought I was in love. I had never met another kindred. I was determined to find out what it all meant.
Very soon, I found myself a summer camp counselor in the Poconos. I embarked on four hour trips to see this kindred spirit who was in actuality, a very sharp and shy contrast from her words. We met the first time on an island bridge in the fog. We met then and only one time since. Our friendship has survived, however, within the same kindred prose. Other times I remember, were the days I spent on the Delaware, days sailing with my kids, the mid-afternoon runs, the jaunts with the French gymnastics coach while I practiced my then, more practiced French, the sparring with the karate instructor, and the random adventures with my Scottish friend, Si. Life was new and bewildering. I had never been out East. I felt out of place, but at one in the midst of so much drive and ambition. ~
And now I feel that I sit here, at a crossroads in my life. Many people become more distant. I am getting older and hopefully wiser. I am forgiving myself for so many mistakes. For they have crafted my heart to see the world through this unique lens.
~ I finished my first year of university. I was down about leaving Colorado, but excited about a journey that brought me back to something more fulfilling and meaningful. It was an adventure for a purpose, but it meandered in a grand way. I had met a kindred spirit (the first I had met in my 19 years). We had written letters back and forth since meeting. It was a rambling poetic prose that fed from the vigor of our youth and expression of two poetic hearts. Back then, I thought I was in love. I had never met another kindred. I was determined to find out what it all meant.
Very soon, I found myself a summer camp counselor in the Poconos. I embarked on four hour trips to see this kindred spirit who was in actuality, a very sharp and shy contrast from her words. We met the first time on an island bridge in the fog. We met then and only one time since. Our friendship has survived, however, within the same kindred prose. Other times I remember, were the days I spent on the Delaware, days sailing with my kids, the mid-afternoon runs, the jaunts with the French gymnastics coach while I practiced my then, more practiced French, the sparring with the karate instructor, and the random adventures with my Scottish friend, Si. Life was new and bewildering. I had never been out East. I felt out of place, but at one in the midst of so much drive and ambition. ~
And now I feel that I sit here, at a crossroads in my life. Many people become more distant. I am getting older and hopefully wiser. I am forgiving myself for so many mistakes. For they have crafted my heart to see the world through this unique lens.
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