NICEland

Iceland (or NICEland as we've been calling it) has exceeded expectations so far. We've seen the northern lights 3 of the 4 nights we've been here (and we didn't even try the first night because of jet lag and northern lights). We have had plenty of day light and starting this trip on a full moon has given us plenty of light at night also. The sky seems bigger here even when you are surrounded by mountains, and the Big Dipper has hung bright and true.
I think we have finally got a handle on jet lag. The first couple days we could barely drag ourselves out of be by 9:30, it's become more like 7:45 in recent times, even though each night is a late one bundled up outside in the wind huddled against the wheels of cutie patunia, our rental, chasing the lights of the north.
It's been hard to find good coffee in the morning since most shops and cafés don't open until 10 or 11, but the Te and Kaffi store, usually inside a souvenir and book shop, has come to our rescue multiple days around 9 am. However it's still been a battle against small cup syndrome.
And it's been great to be off the grid. I've only had internet two of the nights we have been here, so it's allowed ample time for journaling and sifting through the days photos without being interrupted by what's happening with casual acquaintances a world away.
Lastly, every sight we have seen and activity we have participated in has been breathtaking, nothing like we could have even imagined. From the highest waterfall to the most powerfull and all the "average" ones in between, pseudo craters, nighttime rainbows, fall colors on moss and birch trees, rolling hills and high fjords, turf roof houses and the old couple who sang to me for my birthday and gifted me a rose (which of course I have been putting in water every night and taking pictures of all along our journey). Most nights we have had a dorm room in a hostel all to ourselves and have been making friends along the way, most of which we have run into a second time at anther point of interest. The Myvatn nature baths at sunset (like the blue lagoon of the north, but less people), the glow of the constantly erupting volcano at night, and of course the northern lights and shooting stars that have ended each of our evenings. This morning we are heading out on a whale watching trip in an old wooden schooner from the fishing town of Husavik and finally having an unplanned afternoon to rest and relax and make our own.
I've been reminded again and again just how beautiful life is. We made this life. It didn't come easy (this trip has been in the dreaming an the making close to four years), but if you really want your life to look a certain way there is almost always a way to make it happen. There are things that happen which are beyond our control and can throw us off emotional and physically, but we have the power to make life out of lemons. It takes little pulling up by the boot straps, a little creativity and substitution, and a little bit of dreaming.
After seeing those dancing lights for the first magical time I said, "you know, it's like we have insurance on our happiness. So many good things have already happened that we are guaranteed a degree of happiness, but they have the possibility of always getting better."
We just have to keep our eyes open for the opportunities to see them.

It's Time Again For A New Chapter

I'm about to start another chapter. This has been a long, exhausting summer of working every single day. Props to those of you who do it for a life time, it's hard. It's hard especially when my second job takes me away from home for up to four days in a row. I've spent the summer tired, grumpy, and with little ambition or drive (or ability) to partake in the activities that make me feel alive.
So with one job wrapping up in a week and a savings account bursting at the seems (compared to what it was), I'm ready to start a new chapter and new goals.
I want this next year to be focused on positivity. Complaining less and loving more. Intentionality. I want to be outside as much as I can. I want to surround myself with people I love and people who love me. I want to try new things. I want to take classes, language, writing, psychology, mountain climbing. I want to learn proper punctuation. I want to do the old things I've always loved, photography, climbing, running, reading, writing... I want to take my mornings slow and sip coffee on my balcony. I want to visit all the national parks in Oregon and Washington.. And while we're at it I might as well head to California, Montana, and Utah.... I want to feel like I'm on the edge of everything. I want to love my life by living my life.
Care to join?

Where To Go From Here

In Alaska I felt alive, so much so I can't stop talking about it. But talking about it helps to make sense of where I am now, because lately things have been feeling less alive and more "angsty". I have been on a great winding road and have crash landed back in Oregon. I am now left with the task of unwinding my trail and figuring out who I am now, what is important to me, and how to get where I aim to go.

In Alaska life was simple. I was at the beginning of my youth and my future was stored somewhere a great distance away. I worked to save and when I wasn't working, I played. My relationships were intimate, vibrant and constant. There was consistent life in my house where the couch was always open for late night beers and conversation or hours of friends making music. It was also easily moved to the side for our Fourth of July or Lady Gaga dance party.

In Alaska my beliefs were daily challenged, nothing ever lay dormant. My life was full. I hiked, I ran, I climbed, I zipped, I boated with whales, I camped and I laughed every hour. Free time was seen as opportunity. A random encounter with a stranger quickly became the meeting of a close friend. Life was community and love encompassed everything we gave and received. At the close of each day I felt an emotional and physical exhaustion brought on by every day life, and sleep camp easy. Sometimes I would be woken all too soon to hike a mountain at midnight in order to catch a 3 a.m. sunrise, other times I wouldn't get to sleep till 3 in order to catch a glimpse of the midnight sun or northern lights. I read and I wrote and I laughed and I listened and the miniscule amount of music I could independently make was enough. Each moment was vibrant.

When I decided to not return to Alaska for another summer, but to "plant roots" and be stationary for a while, life became a challenge. Being a born dreamer I was quick to see the things I would miss out on and my disappointment blinded me from the opportunities at home. Honestly, the transition back into "city life" was hard. Relationships took extra work, the outdoors were hidden behind concrete and scooted farther away. I allowed myself to become bored and accept life as dull.

I became busy with tasks and commuting and working and slowly I closed up into myself, allowing the crowd to swallow me up. During this time I dreamed of the life I wanted. I dreamed of going to Iceland and hiking its mountains, swimming its pools, dancing with its people. I dreamed of friends popping by. I dreamed of spontaneous outings. But I didn't take action because now I was limited by time and money and location and occasionally health.

I have since procured a job in travel, moved to Seattle and back, and am now working two jobs for the summer, in order to save money for my impending trip to Iceland (and to pay off student loans, obviously). I have decorated my new apartment, ditched the bus for biking as often as possible, and am devouring multitudes of books at once. I am working hard at making every day intentional. I plan on writing more words, reading more books, hiking more mountains, listening to more music, laughing with more friends (at least with the lovely ones I already have), and delving further into more beliefs. It is invigorating to see dreams taking shape and to realize what I do have control over. I am working hard to make my life like it was in Alaska. I am working hard at making every day an adventure, because every moment should taste this sweet.

Hello, Goodbye

Even in my short amount of days I have said a lot of hellos and a lot of goodbyes. I remember my first goodbye. I was around 3 and it was the neighbor boy. My dad explained that our friend had been playing power rangers with glass. He tripped and fell and the glass entered the side of his head, it went into his sacred temple. He didn't make it. That was my first experience with death.

The next few goodbyes, while still traumatic, were less grotesque. It seemed like every other year, starting when I was six years old, my best friends would move. And ironically or not they all moved to Texas. I grew an early hatred for Texas.
Then, when I was nine, my oldest sister moved out to go to college and my family life was changed. That which had ways been so routine and "stable", was altered.
Ever since it's been a cycle, meet people, move away, meet people, move away. Another sister moves. Hellos and goodbyes.
Eventually I did the moving. The most exciting part of moving was that I came with myself. Suddenly it was adventure instead of being left behind and I had a say in what happened. I felt liberated. I haven't been able to stop since. The freedom is intoxicating. And no matter where I
go there are always more people to meet. It makes the goodbyes less difficult.
But in my life I have been lucky enough to come across a few fellow travelers and adventurers.
Dreamers.
These people are not satisfied with living a "normal" life, or even believe that there is such a thing. They too have been taken a hold of by wonderlust. These are the friends that I never say "goodbye "to, only "until next time". While parting with them is still sad, it's more bittersweet. Their lifestyle is encouraging. Their presence is intoxicating. These are the friends that I know I will run into over and over again, no matter what state or country we inhabit. And I never feel like I truly leave them, because wherever I go a little part of them comes with me. And I know wherever they are, they hold pieces of me too.

The goodbyes and the hellos are what constitute life. It's what happens when you live. But I am lucky enough to know the different between "goodbye" and "see you later". I am lucky enough to get to experience the difference.

Dan Moller and Dreams Coming True

All my dreams are coming true. It helps that they aren't complicated dreams. Walking out to the Mendenhall Glacier on the frozen lake, snowshoeing in the Juneau woods, glimpsing the sparkling Christmas lights on Franklin Street and sitting at Heritage Coffee on a cold winter night sipping coffee, which I am currently doing. It's invigorating, liberating. To make long ago dreams come true. To have the power to make choices. To have the ability.

I've felt so empowered recently. I don't know if it's because my frontal lobe has fully developed, because I have had conversations I have been putting on the back burner, or because I have been trying new and somewhat scary things. I am more content than ever before. I have no more direction than before, no more stability, no more assuredness in the things I hope to believe in. But I am beginning to recognize the power of choice. That things can be obtained by just trying. And that things can be just as easily let go of if they become unhealthy and toxic. Life is full of possibilities and all we have to do is choose our paths- love or hate, adventure or repetition, flavor or bland. I choose the edge. I choose freedom. I choose love.

Snowshoeing today on Dan Moller trail was like magic. The snow was soft and clean. The trees had dressed themselves in delicate layers for our visit. The mountains slowly unveiled themselves behind curtains of fog and the clean air pierced our lungs and captured our noises. Feet stomping. Voices carrying intimate conversation between friends, family.

We left our prints. We explored our home. We made plans for ten years from now. Why not? Dreams are all we have. And we are the only ones who can make them come true.

I Am My Grandpa's Granddaughter

I've been thinking a lot about my grandpa Clarence. He died 6 years ago and I never really knew him well. But I always felt we had a secret. He was a wild adventurer. I wish he could have lived to know he passed that on to me.

Tall, lanky, solid. He was a firm man who smelled like a mix of coffee, cigarettes, and the faint open road. A truck driving man, the road was his home, my inheritance. And when you have that in your blood it becomes your responsibility.

As I drive the wild roads to the Grand Canyon, to the corner of the world he called home, I realize the last time I drove here was just after his death. I was taking my Grandma back home to pack their things and move to a new corner of the world, a world of her own. I find myself wishing I had more time with him. I wish I could have sipped a whiskey with him, drank stale coffee, or sat on the porch inhaling his second hand smoke as we shared our stories of the road.

His life must have been rich in his own kind of way, a solace kind of way, and I yearn for it, even if only second hand. But I still feel him with me just like I did then. And I realize it's been 6 years this very day since his death but I've always known he was still around somewhere. I've found him, here, in my cup of black coffee on the open road.

Written 11-11-2013

#atandywedding

The sun warmed our faces, but it was love that warmed everything else. Sitting in Joshua Tree, watching two dear friends pledge to be together and we, all family, pledged to be alongside them. As it was we each made this pledge with the time we took off work and miles we traveled in order to sit on those wooden chairs as observers. And it isn't for nothing. The love they give us, the culture they have helped create to keep us all together, it has repaid us ten fold and ten fold again.
And so it was that after the aisle was walked and the promises made, the tears flowed. We made our toasts, we drank our drink, and our feet tap tap tapped, legs jump jump jumped, and bodies swayed side to side. Because they have love. Because we have love. And because we have all opened ourselves to that gift of love from each other.

A toast to you my loved friends. May your life be one sweet dance.