#1. I learned this nifty phrase in Kinesiology this morning: Olecranon process.
Basically, it means: Elbow.
#2. Today was the first full day of classes. Kinesiology in the am, Swedish Massage in the pm. In SM class, we learned how to properly clean the table, dress the table and then lie down on the table, while my class partner palpated different areas of my head/neck/back. I completely passed out while she was doing this. I think this is the first time in my life I've had a class where it is considered a total success for half the class to konk out in the middle of it.
#3. I just had one of the most affirming, uplifting, compassionate, open, direct, honest conversations with an incredibly special person in my life, and fantastic friend. Taylor, thank you for being who you are, and for being in my life. I value our connection so deeply and so love what we share. I'm continually impressed by how we continue to grow and gracefully allow for the shifts that are happening.
Love and Gratitude.
04 January 2012
03 January 2012
Oh, how I love to learn...
As of today, I am officially a student! (again)
:) :) :)
East West College of the Healing Arts
Even though my first class tonight was only an hour long, and immediately followed orientation, I was given homework. My assignment for this Friday is to: Do one activity/action of self care, and then relay what it was in class. (This could be: taking a bath, going on a hike, playing with kids or animals, taking a sauna, getting a massage).
Yeah. I think I'm gonna like school.
More details on this in future posts!
:) :) :)
Even though my first class tonight was only an hour long, and immediately followed orientation, I was given homework. My assignment for this Friday is to: Do one activity/action of self care, and then relay what it was in class. (This could be: taking a bath, going on a hike, playing with kids or animals, taking a sauna, getting a massage).
Yeah. I think I'm gonna like school.
More details on this in future posts!
02 January 2012
Solstice aspiration:
I'm not generally a huge fan of "new year's resolutions..." I don't
necessarily feel a strong resonance with the arbitrary "1st of January"
signifying a new year or annual fresh start. I *do* however, feel a strong
resonance (literally and symbolically) with the solstice, and the cycles of the earth. The winter
solstice is the time which I consider to be my "new year" and opportunity for new
beginnings. It is the time to honor the cycles of death, darkness and inner
reflection as well as a time to celebrate the return of the light. If I
have a "resolution" this year at all, I would call it a "solstice
aspiration". Inspired by other writers in my life, and aligned with my own strong desire to
express myself more regularly and share the happenings of my life with *you* on a more consistent
basis, my aspiration is this: I intend to write, publicly, every single
day, for the next year...even if only just one word.
This is the place where it will happen.
I'm feeling like I'm already off to a good start.
(This last year's winter solstice occurred overnight, from Wednesday, 21 Dec - Thursday, 22 Dec. This was the longest night of the year, and brought with it the transition into longer days. Though I have not been posting publicly since that day this time around, I *have* written *something* every day since then...and intend to keep writing here, now, for the next 364 days...)
This is the place where it will happen.
I'm feeling like I'm already off to a good start.
(This last year's winter solstice occurred overnight, from Wednesday, 21 Dec - Thursday, 22 Dec. This was the longest night of the year, and brought with it the transition into longer days. Though I have not been posting publicly since that day this time around, I *have* written *something* every day since then...and intend to keep writing here, now, for the next 364 days...)
01 January 2012
Transition to a new year, new realm, new era.
An experience of annual shift...this time around:
My mom and I have a yearly tradition of calling each other up and wishing each other a joyous fresh start to each new year, no matter where either of us is in the world at the stroke of midnight. Regardless of time zone or continent. Regardless of if we actually reach each other and have the chance to speak in real time, or if we leave giddy messages for each other, to be enjoyed later. This year, being in the midwest, she rang in the new year two hours before I did on the west coast. We played phone tag and traded silly, fun and thoughtful messages well into the afternoon today.
This tradition has always warmed my heart. I love you, Mom. I wish for you a joyful, fulfilling, loving, revelatory and powerful (in the most *empowering* sense of that word), 2012.
* * *
My own personal experience of crossing over from one year to the next was one that was new to me. Hanging out in a home with dear friends in Portland, I felt wholly empowered to *be*, and honor exactly what it was that I needed in every passing moment. I was able to fully recognize everything I felt throughout the night and nurture myself, well into the wee hours of the morning. Last night was incredibly difficult for me. My emotions were running high, and I was feeling vulnerable, lonely, lost, mournful, sad and depressed. This, added to the nervousness I strongly felt in choosing to be in the presence of other people (whom I *really* wanted to be happy, upbeat and excited around), made it even harder...at the beginning. Upon meeting up with them, however, I was immediately comforted by the reality that they did not expect me to be anyone I was not, nor hope that I would pretend to feel any way I did not genuinely feel. In fact, they had absolutely no expectations of me, at all. They hugged me, offered me shoulders to cry on, and held space for me to just *be* exactly where I was. And, all the while, reassured me that where *I* was would not in any way detract from or drag down *their* experience of the night. This was actually true.
As the night rolled along, I found that I needed a considerable amount of time to myself. In addition to feeling completely physically exhausted, I wasn't feeling all that social for most of the night. So, I retreated to a quiet, warm, soft, welcoming bedroom around 10:30 for some much needed relaxation and a nap. Intending to be awake and physically present for the midnight transition, I woke myself up with time to prepare for meditation. I sat for 33 minutes, as 2011 ended and the new day began. Throughout the meditation, I could hear the the effusive celebrations of cheering and fireworks outside. I also heard the giddy, muffled sounds of laughter and music of my close friends experiencing their own journey, drifting up from the downstairs area where they were.
Though I was separated, physically, from my friends during those moments, I did not feel alone. I felt uplifted and supported, knowing I could be fully absorbed in my own experience, and still feel the presence of them nearby. It was one of the most empowering experiences I've ever felt. To know that there may be things happening near me with people I very much *want* to share time, space and experiences with, and choose to honor what I *need* for that moment. To genuinely feel that it is a decision well made.
It is the feeling of knowing I am exactly where I need to be, in each moment. And, in each moment, it is a choice.
Thank you, dear friends, for your consistent and ongoing support of who I am and gently, yet firmly holding the space for me, to be.
I love you.
What and amazing way to start this new year.
Gratitude. Love. And, more gratitude.
My mom and I have a yearly tradition of calling each other up and wishing each other a joyous fresh start to each new year, no matter where either of us is in the world at the stroke of midnight. Regardless of time zone or continent. Regardless of if we actually reach each other and have the chance to speak in real time, or if we leave giddy messages for each other, to be enjoyed later. This year, being in the midwest, she rang in the new year two hours before I did on the west coast. We played phone tag and traded silly, fun and thoughtful messages well into the afternoon today.
This tradition has always warmed my heart. I love you, Mom. I wish for you a joyful, fulfilling, loving, revelatory and powerful (in the most *empowering* sense of that word), 2012.
* * *
My own personal experience of crossing over from one year to the next was one that was new to me. Hanging out in a home with dear friends in Portland, I felt wholly empowered to *be*, and honor exactly what it was that I needed in every passing moment. I was able to fully recognize everything I felt throughout the night and nurture myself, well into the wee hours of the morning. Last night was incredibly difficult for me. My emotions were running high, and I was feeling vulnerable, lonely, lost, mournful, sad and depressed. This, added to the nervousness I strongly felt in choosing to be in the presence of other people (whom I *really* wanted to be happy, upbeat and excited around), made it even harder...at the beginning. Upon meeting up with them, however, I was immediately comforted by the reality that they did not expect me to be anyone I was not, nor hope that I would pretend to feel any way I did not genuinely feel. In fact, they had absolutely no expectations of me, at all. They hugged me, offered me shoulders to cry on, and held space for me to just *be* exactly where I was. And, all the while, reassured me that where *I* was would not in any way detract from or drag down *their* experience of the night. This was actually true.
As the night rolled along, I found that I needed a considerable amount of time to myself. In addition to feeling completely physically exhausted, I wasn't feeling all that social for most of the night. So, I retreated to a quiet, warm, soft, welcoming bedroom around 10:30 for some much needed relaxation and a nap. Intending to be awake and physically present for the midnight transition, I woke myself up with time to prepare for meditation. I sat for 33 minutes, as 2011 ended and the new day began. Throughout the meditation, I could hear the the effusive celebrations of cheering and fireworks outside. I also heard the giddy, muffled sounds of laughter and music of my close friends experiencing their own journey, drifting up from the downstairs area where they were.
Though I was separated, physically, from my friends during those moments, I did not feel alone. I felt uplifted and supported, knowing I could be fully absorbed in my own experience, and still feel the presence of them nearby. It was one of the most empowering experiences I've ever felt. To know that there may be things happening near me with people I very much *want* to share time, space and experiences with, and choose to honor what I *need* for that moment. To genuinely feel that it is a decision well made.
It is the feeling of knowing I am exactly where I need to be, in each moment. And, in each moment, it is a choice.
Thank you, dear friends, for your consistent and ongoing support of who I am and gently, yet firmly holding the space for me, to be.
I love you.
What and amazing way to start this new year.
Gratitude. Love. And, more gratitude.
27 November 2010
The return of water...
Imagine the first sun streaked, snow melting, icicle dripping, warm without jackets, spring-like day, following a solid week of gloomy, cloudy, snowy, sleety, frigid weather.
In Corvallis, that day was today.
Today was the first day since the valley snow fall, four days ago, in which it was warm enough to turn the irrigation water back on. I happily spent half of my morning and a bit of the afternoon, quenching the very thirsty plants in all of the five greenhouses.
The water was again, flowing.
It was a perfect day for being outside. A perfect day for soaking up the sun in the few short hours it was to be available. A perfect day for riding a bike into town. That is, up until three minutes before I was ready to get on my bike and ride it into town.
* * *
So, in the last four months of traveling up and down the west coast on my bike, today is the *very first* time I've actually ridden in the rain. And the decision to ride was made at the last second, with full awareness of the consequences of the oncoming storm.
* * *
The dark, voluminous clouds rolled in, heavy and fast, and for a few mournful moments, deterred me from taking that perfect ride into town. Perhaps despite my better judgment, I finally decided, "fuck it, I'm gonna ride anyway". I tossed on my rain gear (worn for the first time, on my bike, on this trip) and headed towards town.
As the misty drizzle, which quickly turned into a moderate shower shortly after turning townwards from the driveway, beaded up and attempted to penetrate my outer shell, I slowly began to realize that this would be the most vividly tactile ride I'd ever experienced. I could detect every infinitesimal movement in my bike. I was able to perceive every individual muscle working in my body. Water droplets formed and dripped rapidly off my nose and chin. Cold, icy rain pelted my cheeks like hundreds of miniature icicles shot from a bow. I could hear the rhythmic rush of my breath, softly swirling in my ears. The plummeting air temperature, carried by the swift moving wind, rolled over my exposed fingertips, whispering numbness. The quality of the air; brisk, wet, fresh, saturated my lungs with an effervescent green. Cool. Clean. I glided along, testing the limits of near frictionless speed with fog filled, dropplet drenched glasses.
It was wonderful. It was a consciously chosen challenge.
A mere twenty minutes later, I was leaving my in town destination, and readied for the ride back. By this point, the storm was completely cleared. The only evidence it had been there at all was a distant gray cloud and a wet sidewalk. The storm had also left behind a solid fifteen degree drop. Frozen fingers, visible breath and a sunny, clear reprieve accompanied me home.
Feeling *so* fortunate to have had that moment to have been able to feel *so* much.
In Corvallis, that day was today.
Today was the first day since the valley snow fall, four days ago, in which it was warm enough to turn the irrigation water back on. I happily spent half of my morning and a bit of the afternoon, quenching the very thirsty plants in all of the five greenhouses.
The water was again, flowing.
It was a perfect day for being outside. A perfect day for soaking up the sun in the few short hours it was to be available. A perfect day for riding a bike into town. That is, up until three minutes before I was ready to get on my bike and ride it into town.
* * *
So, in the last four months of traveling up and down the west coast on my bike, today is the *very first* time I've actually ridden in the rain. And the decision to ride was made at the last second, with full awareness of the consequences of the oncoming storm.
* * *
The dark, voluminous clouds rolled in, heavy and fast, and for a few mournful moments, deterred me from taking that perfect ride into town. Perhaps despite my better judgment, I finally decided, "fuck it, I'm gonna ride anyway". I tossed on my rain gear (worn for the first time, on my bike, on this trip) and headed towards town.
As the misty drizzle, which quickly turned into a moderate shower shortly after turning townwards from the driveway, beaded up and attempted to penetrate my outer shell, I slowly began to realize that this would be the most vividly tactile ride I'd ever experienced. I could detect every infinitesimal movement in my bike. I was able to perceive every individual muscle working in my body. Water droplets formed and dripped rapidly off my nose and chin. Cold, icy rain pelted my cheeks like hundreds of miniature icicles shot from a bow. I could hear the rhythmic rush of my breath, softly swirling in my ears. The plummeting air temperature, carried by the swift moving wind, rolled over my exposed fingertips, whispering numbness. The quality of the air; brisk, wet, fresh, saturated my lungs with an effervescent green. Cool. Clean. I glided along, testing the limits of near frictionless speed with fog filled, dropplet drenched glasses.
It was wonderful. It was a consciously chosen challenge.
A mere twenty minutes later, I was leaving my in town destination, and readied for the ride back. By this point, the storm was completely cleared. The only evidence it had been there at all was a distant gray cloud and a wet sidewalk. The storm had also left behind a solid fifteen degree drop. Frozen fingers, visible breath and a sunny, clear reprieve accompanied me home.
Feeling *so* fortunate to have had that moment to have been able to feel *so* much.
24 November 2010
Gratitude...
I want to take a moment to acknowledge and appreciate all of the wonderful, selfless, thoughtful, caring, compassionate people in my life.
Thank you for sharing your love, offering your support and choosing to take some time in your life to be present with me. I have only love and gratitude to offer back.
Thank you to every person and every situation in my life that has taught me something.
I now know how to live, because of you.
I now know how to love, because of you.
I am who I am today, because of you.
Thank you.
Thank you for sharing your love, offering your support and choosing to take some time in your life to be present with me. I have only love and gratitude to offer back.
Thank you to every person and every situation in my life that has taught me something.
I now know how to live, because of you.
I now know how to love, because of you.
I am who I am today, because of you.
Thank you.
12 November 2010
Day 113: Stats Update
So...I've been on this journey now for 3 months and 3 weeks, or, 113 days.
Recently (within the last few weeks), I've been finding that two words have been coming up for me, fairly persistently: Building and Healing.
Perhaps it's venus in retrograde, perhaps it's the ever present rainy fog in the sky, perhaps it's the cold and dreary of winter coming on, begging me to settle in, cozy up and put another log on the fire. Whatever it is, I've been feeling a stronger and stronger urge to stop moving, start healing and begin building.
Let me back up a bit.
I've been on *this* journey for just under 4 months. However, upon further investigation as to why I've been feeling such a strong pull to stop so soon after I've begun, I realized that I've actually been in a transient mindset now for 3-1/2 years. I looked back at all of the traveling/moving I've done in this time, and what I found kind of shocked me. I knew I had a lot going on these last few years, but I didn't realize just how much...
As of 1 June 2007 (the last day at my last full time job in Chicago, before moving to Australia)
I have:
Been in transition/without a place of permanent residence for 3 years, 5 ½ months
Spent no more than 4 consecutive months in any one place
Moved 8 times
Lived on 3 different continents
Taken:
14 intercontinental flights
15 national flights
19 long distance train/bus rides
countless road trips
Traveled to:
72 different cities (at least – these are the one's I can remember...)
23 different states/provinces, (including 4 islands)
5 different countries
And...
Fallen in love exactly 8 times (three places, three people, one child and a cat)
Having now written this all out and absorbed it a little, it's no longer a surprise to me why I'm currently feeling the need to slow down and stabilize my life a bit. Additionally, one of the driving forces of this journey I'm currently undertaking was to discover the viability of more sustainable methods of travel, namely: bicycle and ground bound transit. I've taken an indulgent amount of airplane rides around the world and perhaps was looking for a way to (somehow) counteract the huge amount of guilt I harbor for, what I feel, is an excessively giant footprint I've stomped on the earth in the last 3-1/2 years. Not to mention the amount of personal energy and time spent in adjusting and recovering from the incredible amount of physical stress my body was put under to take them.
That will all probably take some more time for me to fully process...
* * *
...Getting back to *this* trip:
Start Date: Saturday, 24 July, 2010
On the road for: 3 months, 3 weeks
Places visited:
Towns/cities visited thus far: 27
Urban and rural farms/urban gardens visited: 12
Urban housing co-ops visited: 3
Urban food co-ops visited: 5 (all of them awesome)
Miles Traveled:
Approx. no. of total miles traveled thus far: 4985 mi (8023 km)
By Train/Bus: 2115 mi (3404 km)
By Car/Van: 1860 mi (2993 km)
By Ferry: ~85 mi (~137 km)
By Bike: 925 mi (1489 km) (current odo reading)
Bike Stuff:
Carrying weight: approx. 50 lbs gear + 34 lb bike = ~84 lbs total
Avg. speed: 10 mph
Max speed: 36 mph
Longest ride day: 70.8 mi
Days on bike: 11 main riding days (avg. 50 mi per day), approx. 40 small riding days (intercity/commute/errand/day trip - avg. 10 mi per day)
Flat tires: 0
Places/beds I've slept on thus far:
Private forest land - Hammock
Private forest land - Teepee
Hostel dorm room (upper bunk)
Hostel private room (shared)
Various farms (bike tour) - 6 person tent
Various farms (bike tour) - sleeping bag and mat only (outside, under stars)
Private home – bunk bed (lower bunk)
Private home – camping (hammock)
Private home – floor
Private home – big, comfy bed!
Couch surf/share house – couch/floor
Share house – bed/couch
Organic farm music festival – camping (hammock)
Housing co-op – futon mattress
Housing co-op – couch
Crown land (Vancouver Island, BC) - 2 person tent
Hotel (grrrr...only once)
Organic farm cob house – loft bed
* * *
To sum up: So far, along my way, I've met countless numbers of amazing people, eaten healthy, nourishing meals almost every day, laughed much, cried much, shared much, slept in many unique and unfamiliar beds, stayed safe, seen and experienced true beauty, ridden my bike until it hurts, connected, loved, cherished, moved, danced, learned and let go.
And now...it's time to build.
Recently (within the last few weeks), I've been finding that two words have been coming up for me, fairly persistently: Building and Healing.
Perhaps it's venus in retrograde, perhaps it's the ever present rainy fog in the sky, perhaps it's the cold and dreary of winter coming on, begging me to settle in, cozy up and put another log on the fire. Whatever it is, I've been feeling a stronger and stronger urge to stop moving, start healing and begin building.
Let me back up a bit.
I've been on *this* journey for just under 4 months. However, upon further investigation as to why I've been feeling such a strong pull to stop so soon after I've begun, I realized that I've actually been in a transient mindset now for 3-1/2 years. I looked back at all of the traveling/moving I've done in this time, and what I found kind of shocked me. I knew I had a lot going on these last few years, but I didn't realize just how much...
As of 1 June 2007 (the last day at my last full time job in Chicago, before moving to Australia)
I have:
Been in transition/without a place of permanent residence for 3 years, 5 ½ months
Spent no more than 4 consecutive months in any one place
Moved 8 times
Lived on 3 different continents
Taken:
14 intercontinental flights
15 national flights
19 long distance train/bus rides
countless road trips
Traveled to:
72 different cities (at least – these are the one's I can remember...)
23 different states/provinces, (including 4 islands)
5 different countries
And...
Fallen in love exactly 8 times (three places, three people, one child and a cat)
Having now written this all out and absorbed it a little, it's no longer a surprise to me why I'm currently feeling the need to slow down and stabilize my life a bit. Additionally, one of the driving forces of this journey I'm currently undertaking was to discover the viability of more sustainable methods of travel, namely: bicycle and ground bound transit. I've taken an indulgent amount of airplane rides around the world and perhaps was looking for a way to (somehow) counteract the huge amount of guilt I harbor for, what I feel, is an excessively giant footprint I've stomped on the earth in the last 3-1/2 years. Not to mention the amount of personal energy and time spent in adjusting and recovering from the incredible amount of physical stress my body was put under to take them.
That will all probably take some more time for me to fully process...
* * *
...Getting back to *this* trip:
Start Date: Saturday, 24 July, 2010
On the road for: 3 months, 3 weeks
Places visited:
Towns/cities visited thus far: 27
Urban and rural farms/urban gardens visited: 12
Urban housing co-ops visited: 3
Urban food co-ops visited: 5 (all of them awesome)
Miles Traveled:
Approx. no. of total miles traveled thus far: 4985 mi (8023 km)
By Train/Bus: 2115 mi (3404 km)
By Car/Van: 1860 mi (2993 km)
By Ferry: ~85 mi (~137 km)
By Bike: 925 mi (1489 km) (current odo reading)
Bike Stuff:
Carrying weight: approx. 50 lbs gear + 34 lb bike = ~84 lbs total
Avg. speed: 10 mph
Max speed: 36 mph
Longest ride day: 70.8 mi
Days on bike: 11 main riding days (avg. 50 mi per day), approx. 40 small riding days (intercity/commute/errand/day trip - avg. 10 mi per day)
Flat tires: 0
Places/beds I've slept on thus far:
Private forest land - Hammock
Private forest land - Teepee
Hostel dorm room (upper bunk)
Hostel private room (shared)
Various farms (bike tour) - 6 person tent
Various farms (bike tour) - sleeping bag and mat only (outside, under stars)
Private home – bunk bed (lower bunk)
Private home – camping (hammock)
Private home – floor
Private home – big, comfy bed!
Couch surf/share house – couch/floor
Share house – bed/couch
Organic farm music festival – camping (hammock)
Housing co-op – futon mattress
Housing co-op – couch
Crown land (Vancouver Island, BC) - 2 person tent
Hotel (grrrr...only once)
Organic farm cob house – loft bed
Food:
* * *
To sum up: So far, along my way, I've met countless numbers of amazing people, eaten healthy, nourishing meals almost every day, laughed much, cried much, shared much, slept in many unique and unfamiliar beds, stayed safe, seen and experienced true beauty, ridden my bike until it hurts, connected, loved, cherished, moved, danced, learned and let go.
And now...it's time to build.
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