The first row of cars came into view around the tight bend. Cars, trucks, and SUVs lined both sides of the road as far as could be seen. Some were parked off the road, some at dangerous angles in the trees, others halfway into the oncoming traffic lanes.
How many cars are there?
Around the next bend they were crammed anywhere they could fit for another quarter of a mile. At least ten people were walking. Some this way, some that. Some smiling, some staring ahead blankly. All carrying plates of food under aluminum foil.
Approaching the beach took longer than expected. Close to the middle of the queue of vehicles, where they were most haphazardly parked, was a trail entrance. An older gentleman emerged, stooping over his plate of steaming halibut, carried idly in his left hand. When asked how he was faring, he looked up, fatigue in his eyes, and replied breathily, "I'd be better if I didn't have to climb all of these steps!" He shuffled past, towards his car, that way.
Down a cleared dirt path, down a flight of stairs, past an open window looking into an immaculate kitchen, across a deck with a beautiful set of wind chimes, down a second flight of stairs, and all the while with the quiet roar of a waterfall guiding the way. Suddenly, the beach appeared.
It's one thing to see so many cars, but so many people! They must have carpooled, maybe some cycled in, maybe some walked from neighboring houses.
What throngs!
At that moment, the sound of a banjo broke through the serene pounding of plunging water.
This is the place.
The first table beyond the path was covered in a light cloth, a picture of a middle aged man smiling out at the beauty of the world placed carefully next to an open notebook and a wrapped box with a slot labelled "Donations" in loopy letters.
"Love and light. - Jen Reid," was written on the exposed page.
Should I?
The second table called loudly. Round and full, almost crowded, it was obviously the desert table. Unmatched tupperware containers of moist brownies, slices of sweet pies, batches of homemade cookies, and full loaves of beautifully baked breads beckoned, teasing and tantalizing tempted taste buds. An array of fruits, cakes, crackers, and muffins asked to be eaten.
The next table was rectangular. It was longer, covered in a white cloth, and equally filled to capacity with treats, although on the non artery clogging side. Salads, pastas, hummus, salmon dips, unnamed side dishes, and store bought cheese platters were strewn about lazily. Some containers had been scraped clean, others were getting there quickly.
Just past this table were two large grills. The smell of freshly caught and grilled salmon and halibut played in nostrils, making the hungry salivate. Norman smiled, asking if anyone wanted some more fish, fresh off the grill.
Could I say no even if I wanted? Probably not.
More spectacular than the food, than the path, than the rock riddled beach, were the people. The sheer amount of people, milling about, discussing this and that. The smiling man in the picture on the first table clearly brought smiles to their faces. Some smiled through tears, but mostly, they just smiled, laughed, and danced.
A banjo, a guitar, a base, some drums and a trombone. That's all there was, and that's all it took. The Fishpickers played their hearts out in the name of the smiling man, spreading the contagious energy he had given them before his sudden and unexpected death. The energy was spread through the crowd, and it could be seen. The energy in the air was so thick it was nearly tangible.
This could be taken and spread to folks who couldn't make the festivities.
Festivities is an odd but appropriate word.
Tommy strutted through the crowd, boasting happily of his books. "Small book, big story." He repeated this at least four times.
In wonder, a passerby expressed without lamentation, "We were just having coffee at Mountain Market on Wednesday! Now he's gone."
The music softened, then quieted. A grizzled man who looked older than his years approached the microphone. He started, "Mike wrote this........." The crowd laughed hysterically at the poem about a polar bear that hitched a ride on a fishing boat, ate the crew's fish, and then dropped them on a dime when he saw a female polar bear waiting for him at his destination. It was noted that the polar bear and fishing crew had a lot in common.
A member of the band grabbed the microphone and told a bit of a story about how silly Michael had been before he gave a gruff, "Shit, ah never mind, let's just play some music!"
As the band played, the beginnings of a rainbow peaked through the overhanging clouds that had engulfed the towering peaks across the Lynn Canal. They parted enough for the colors to break through, and everyone took it in at once. Rainbow Glacier earned its name yet another day.
In that glimpse of light, of color, the moment reopened. Sure tomorrow would happen without Michael, but today; that's what really matters. A celebration like he would have done it.
The band picked back up, playing two waltzes. Two older women danced together, roughly swinging each other one way, then the other, truly enjoying the moment. Pushing and pulling, giggling, and making silly faces. Laughter lit their eyes, and years plummeted from them in their merriment leaving nothing but youth and happiness.
By the calm canal, a single woman wearing a soft crimson sweater with a flowing black skirt stood watching over her little boy play by the water. Her dark hair danced in the wind, as if trying to reach for the adventure of the silent, still, snow capped mountains opposite the celebration.
The crowd was thinning. As if on cue, mother nature sent a visitor from the sky. Swooping in cautiously a bald eagle attempted to sneak some fish from the nearby rocks. Sensing the crowd's shifted attention, it retreated, only to attempt again in a few minutes. The game of chicken, better yet, eagle, continued for close to a half hour.
The spirit of a small fishing town in Alaska was brought to light by the death of a remarkable man. Signs had been put up on storefronts, bulletin boards, and invitations were passed around by word of mouth as well. His beauty needed to be celebrated, shared, and through that he could continue to live.
I did not know Mike Saunders before his memorial potluck, but in seeing the effect he had on the town and the people, I sure wish I had.
Monday, June 28, 2010
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Indecently Discarded
Before I get tons of questions, no, this is not a personal experience. I was just sitting in a bar this evening musing about the way people treat one another. How often this happens. I got a little carried away. Read on.
Her: Driven, ambitious, quirky, light hearted, and in love with nature, outdoors, fun, and experiencing life. She's soulful; someone who has experienced more than her share, more than she should have for her age. She's 27, and what people tend describe as exotic. Almond eyes, white smile, dimple, olive skin.
Him: Driven, ambitious, accomplished. In love with adrenaline, people, and improving the community. He's attractive, open, spontaneous, and family oriented. He's something of a legend in his community, and has made an impression on the world. He's 44, and what people tend to describe as ruggedly handsome. Laughing green eyes, distinguished, weathered.
The two met by chance, through both of their passions, live music. He caught her eye, bouncing around to the music, travelling the floor, making his presence noticed with less than no rhythm. She sat back for hours until finally asking him to dance. He complied. They laughed, drank, danced. They loved their moments together.
A short while later, the two bumped into each other again, and the chemistry was undeniable. Their concern for people brought them together. They understood each other. They talked for hours, tiptoeing around the obvious age difference, the potential between them. They enjoyed each other's company, and it didn't seem to matter.
He commanded her attention, she commanded his. They found ways to see each other, even for a short bit. A 15 minute smoothie break, a short jaunt by the docks. Their time together was a complement to each.
They chased the moon hand in hand down the center of an empty road, with the sounds of the sea at their backs.
They idled in the dark, chatting, laughing, until there was a rustle in the brush that could have been a bear. They picked up the pace a bit more, laughing all the while.
They kayaked together to a secluded beach, sat against some drift wood, and fell asleep in each other's arms.
He had her over for dinner, and in moments of passion, they became one.
They weren't prepared for each other in this life. He had almost given up on her existence, and while she knew he was somewhere, it didn't cross her mind that he'd be found in a town of 2,500, in a small bar in Southeast Alaska.
They had a serious conversation. He hadn't been with anyone in years. He thought she was incredible, and he had even told his mother. She met his brother. He invited her to have Thanksgiving with his family. He showed her his dreams. He shared with her his fears. He told her how good he made him feel, so good, in fact that he felt as if quitting smoking could be possible. She embraced them, him, his faults, and his passions.
He offered her undying and endless support, told her he'd be there for her, and even offered her a drawer in his house to encourage her presence in his life. He set the pace. He offered his home. He told her to make herself at home, but she couldn't just move in completely.
Then one day, she noticed a change in the weather. Something so abrupt, she didn't have time to react. Suddenly there were no more smoothie breaks, no dinners, no time together but time after work. He still wanted her to come by the house, but their time together seemed loveless. They were no longer one when together, just two people, one driven by lust, one by the hope love would return.
Eventually, she didn't want to visit the house anymore, but she complied because it was their time together. She hesitated to go home with him one night after a particularly cold evening together. She felt used. Sex is nothing but an annoyance without love.
When he ran into her in public, he seemed irritated that she would approach him. He avoided her. Refused to acknowledge her in front of his old friends, and refused to introduce her to anyone new. He even went so far as to turn his back on her upon her approaches.
She was confused. Her heart pulsed, felt as if it would burst out of her throat in a violent gush of tears. After several days, she pulled him aside, and demanded he explain to her the change.
His only response was, "I need to slow down. We can't live together. I'm confused. I need time."
She wanted to scream at him that HE set the pace. HE cleared the drawer. HE pursued her. HE entered her world. HE promised trips, time together, family, future. HE took her by surprise. HE broke her heart.
But she only responded with a quiet, "I'm not in a rush, but you could have handled this better." He had made her feel worthless, like a bother. Like the problem was hers.
They decided she would pull her things from his house, and after that they didn't speak. She decided to wait for him to come around, but he didn't call for several days. When he did, he offered a smoothie break, and some support. She believed him, and he stood her up. The third week in a row.
She started to doubt what she had to offer. She started to doubt her strength as a woman. Did she do something to push away this man? To make him embarrassed enough of her in public that he felt it necessary to ignore her? To cut communications? Was the hunt the only exciting part for him? Was she not a good catch?
She had seen this happen to others. This was the first time she experienced it first hand. She realized in an instant she had become disposable. A toy that had become a hassle on top of other responsibilities after an initial enjoyment.
She lamented. She had sleepless nights. She cursed him. She cried. She laughed at him and herself, but eventually she wished he would just speak to her like she was a human being. He treated dogs better than he treated her. All she wanted was acknowledgement, a sort of truce to become friends, because at that point there would be no reconciliation on a romantic level.
She lives by the saying, "When somebody shows you their true self, believe them." There would be no convincing her he was a better person than he had shown her. She had made that mistake before. He had lied to her, filled her head with empty promises, and decided he could drop her like a bad habit. Or maybe not. He had a MUCH harder time quitting smoking than he had quitting his time with her.
The part that made the hot tears stream down her face when she was alone was how worthless he seemed to think she was.
She recognized what was happening, as in one of her lesser proud moments, she had treated somebody the same way. In private, she had been one with a man that she was embarrassed of in public, and one day she cut him off completely and suddenly with a shoddy excuse of needing time to herself, being confused, needing to think, etc. She had truly enjoyed time with him, but one day things changed. She refused to speak to him because he complicated things in her head, the worries, the stresses. She didn't give him the respect he deserved because it was an inconvenience to her. She had treated him as if he was disposable. He had cried, written her letters, and pleaded with her to talk with him. He even threatened her. She couldn't be bothered. She didn't answer his calls, and was dismissive to his cries. She thought her problems were worth more than his ego. She figured he'd recover, and just wished he'd disappear instead of making her feel bad about the way she was treating him. She just wanted him to move on, and leave her alone.
In that moment of realization, she felt bad for both men. The man who she had stood by and dismissed her without a thought, and the man she had dismissed. She wished with her entire being that she could rescind her wrongdoings, hug him, make a friend of him, and take away his pain. For people are beautiful beings, not objects, not toys. Emotions are not disposable. It is not right to just drop someone because they have become an inconvenience. It's not OK to ignore someone completely. Simple explanations, honesty, and a little courage is all it takes to mend relations, yet we tend to cut them so crudely. It's instant gratification. It's a loss of values over generations.
It hurts. Nobody should have to experience it.
People would be kinder to one another if they could empathize with the feelings of the indecently discarded.
Her: Driven, ambitious, quirky, light hearted, and in love with nature, outdoors, fun, and experiencing life. She's soulful; someone who has experienced more than her share, more than she should have for her age. She's 27, and what people tend describe as exotic. Almond eyes, white smile, dimple, olive skin.
Him: Driven, ambitious, accomplished. In love with adrenaline, people, and improving the community. He's attractive, open, spontaneous, and family oriented. He's something of a legend in his community, and has made an impression on the world. He's 44, and what people tend to describe as ruggedly handsome. Laughing green eyes, distinguished, weathered.
The two met by chance, through both of their passions, live music. He caught her eye, bouncing around to the music, travelling the floor, making his presence noticed with less than no rhythm. She sat back for hours until finally asking him to dance. He complied. They laughed, drank, danced. They loved their moments together.
A short while later, the two bumped into each other again, and the chemistry was undeniable. Their concern for people brought them together. They understood each other. They talked for hours, tiptoeing around the obvious age difference, the potential between them. They enjoyed each other's company, and it didn't seem to matter.
He commanded her attention, she commanded his. They found ways to see each other, even for a short bit. A 15 minute smoothie break, a short jaunt by the docks. Their time together was a complement to each.
They chased the moon hand in hand down the center of an empty road, with the sounds of the sea at their backs.
They idled in the dark, chatting, laughing, until there was a rustle in the brush that could have been a bear. They picked up the pace a bit more, laughing all the while.
They kayaked together to a secluded beach, sat against some drift wood, and fell asleep in each other's arms.
He had her over for dinner, and in moments of passion, they became one.
They weren't prepared for each other in this life. He had almost given up on her existence, and while she knew he was somewhere, it didn't cross her mind that he'd be found in a town of 2,500, in a small bar in Southeast Alaska.
They had a serious conversation. He hadn't been with anyone in years. He thought she was incredible, and he had even told his mother. She met his brother. He invited her to have Thanksgiving with his family. He showed her his dreams. He shared with her his fears. He told her how good he made him feel, so good, in fact that he felt as if quitting smoking could be possible. She embraced them, him, his faults, and his passions.
He offered her undying and endless support, told her he'd be there for her, and even offered her a drawer in his house to encourage her presence in his life. He set the pace. He offered his home. He told her to make herself at home, but she couldn't just move in completely.
Then one day, she noticed a change in the weather. Something so abrupt, she didn't have time to react. Suddenly there were no more smoothie breaks, no dinners, no time together but time after work. He still wanted her to come by the house, but their time together seemed loveless. They were no longer one when together, just two people, one driven by lust, one by the hope love would return.
Eventually, she didn't want to visit the house anymore, but she complied because it was their time together. She hesitated to go home with him one night after a particularly cold evening together. She felt used. Sex is nothing but an annoyance without love.
When he ran into her in public, he seemed irritated that she would approach him. He avoided her. Refused to acknowledge her in front of his old friends, and refused to introduce her to anyone new. He even went so far as to turn his back on her upon her approaches.
She was confused. Her heart pulsed, felt as if it would burst out of her throat in a violent gush of tears. After several days, she pulled him aside, and demanded he explain to her the change.
His only response was, "I need to slow down. We can't live together. I'm confused. I need time."
She wanted to scream at him that HE set the pace. HE cleared the drawer. HE pursued her. HE entered her world. HE promised trips, time together, family, future. HE took her by surprise. HE broke her heart.
But she only responded with a quiet, "I'm not in a rush, but you could have handled this better." He had made her feel worthless, like a bother. Like the problem was hers.
They decided she would pull her things from his house, and after that they didn't speak. She decided to wait for him to come around, but he didn't call for several days. When he did, he offered a smoothie break, and some support. She believed him, and he stood her up. The third week in a row.
She started to doubt what she had to offer. She started to doubt her strength as a woman. Did she do something to push away this man? To make him embarrassed enough of her in public that he felt it necessary to ignore her? To cut communications? Was the hunt the only exciting part for him? Was she not a good catch?
She had seen this happen to others. This was the first time she experienced it first hand. She realized in an instant she had become disposable. A toy that had become a hassle on top of other responsibilities after an initial enjoyment.
She lamented. She had sleepless nights. She cursed him. She cried. She laughed at him and herself, but eventually she wished he would just speak to her like she was a human being. He treated dogs better than he treated her. All she wanted was acknowledgement, a sort of truce to become friends, because at that point there would be no reconciliation on a romantic level.
She lives by the saying, "When somebody shows you their true self, believe them." There would be no convincing her he was a better person than he had shown her. She had made that mistake before. He had lied to her, filled her head with empty promises, and decided he could drop her like a bad habit. Or maybe not. He had a MUCH harder time quitting smoking than he had quitting his time with her.
The part that made the hot tears stream down her face when she was alone was how worthless he seemed to think she was.
She recognized what was happening, as in one of her lesser proud moments, she had treated somebody the same way. In private, she had been one with a man that she was embarrassed of in public, and one day she cut him off completely and suddenly with a shoddy excuse of needing time to herself, being confused, needing to think, etc. She had truly enjoyed time with him, but one day things changed. She refused to speak to him because he complicated things in her head, the worries, the stresses. She didn't give him the respect he deserved because it was an inconvenience to her. She had treated him as if he was disposable. He had cried, written her letters, and pleaded with her to talk with him. He even threatened her. She couldn't be bothered. She didn't answer his calls, and was dismissive to his cries. She thought her problems were worth more than his ego. She figured he'd recover, and just wished he'd disappear instead of making her feel bad about the way she was treating him. She just wanted him to move on, and leave her alone.
In that moment of realization, she felt bad for both men. The man who she had stood by and dismissed her without a thought, and the man she had dismissed. She wished with her entire being that she could rescind her wrongdoings, hug him, make a friend of him, and take away his pain. For people are beautiful beings, not objects, not toys. Emotions are not disposable. It is not right to just drop someone because they have become an inconvenience. It's not OK to ignore someone completely. Simple explanations, honesty, and a little courage is all it takes to mend relations, yet we tend to cut them so crudely. It's instant gratification. It's a loss of values over generations.
It hurts. Nobody should have to experience it.
People would be kinder to one another if they could empathize with the feelings of the indecently discarded.
Monday, May 31, 2010
Corner Cry
It's hard to put pure emotion into prose. Capturing the true excitement that burns, the overwhelming need to smile at something, anything, anyone, in words is a challenge. The past week has been incredible. I've shared moments with people where in unison we've express that "This is one of THOSE moments that can't get any better."
I spent an afternoon running through a glacially fed river that only went waist deep in 80 degree weather with friends and a dog, grinning like an 8 year old. I laughed at myself as I stumbled over silt bars, slipped, tripped, and leapt through the refreshing goodness.
I followed this with a trip out to a dock to watch the full moon rise over the mountains. The clouds played a lazy game of hide and seek with the light that rested on the rippling water like a luminescent kayak while I turned up the radio and drank in the enticement of night with a side of Irish rock.
I took a morning hike out to Seduction Point, and set up a lunch on the hot, black rocks overlooking the water. I watched two pods of porpoises play carelessly. I witnessed a young eagle being chased by a raven, and after about a half hour of soaking up the sun, I was privied to the spectacle of a humpback whale doing what experts call tail slapping, but I choose to believe was a temper tantrum. This big baby was lamenting his girlfriend's decision to go out to dance instead of staying with him to watch television. He repeatedly lifted his tail out of the water and slammed it down with all the force of a man scorned, sending up what seemed like tidal waves in his wake. The sound thundered like a freight train against the jagged rock and glaciers, echoing like spirits calling to me to stay forever.
I sea kayaked to Battery Point and fell asleep on a beautifully secluded beach while the rest of the town "Beer Fested." The moment was spectacular. Serene. Sanctified. Satisfying.
I've met people who make me smile. It's refreshing to be surrounded by friendly, unassuming folks who share my thoughts about the general public: Everyone is good. Patience is all it takes to see that, and if you wait enough, inevitably a person will surprise you with their goodness.
I am bursting at the seams with what I can only describe as a lightness of being, not unbearable in the least. I finally, truly understand the overwhelming longing to discover a way to bottle it and inject it into the soul of the world. I wish with all my being that everyone could feel as great as I have recently. I wish so hard that it aches.
It seems unfair that it isn't understood as universal. Some truly believe their destiny is to be satisfied, not happy, but complacent. If they could only experience true happiness; liberation from the chains of mediocrity, they'd never return to the lifestyle of the sedentary soul.
I shed more than a few tears today. Every Memorial Day I sit down in a corner and cry like a baby until the hurt seeps away in a flood of salt, leaving only grainy streaks of white on my swollen cheeks. I sob until my shoulders have no more energy to rise and fall. I ask myself, the world, anyone who will listen, "Why?"
Today I didn't get to lose myself completely in my corner cry. Instead, I went on a flight through the mountains, and in complete awe of the jagged peaks surrounding Haines, I shed a discrete tear. I took a walk through the town and wore sunglasses to hide the evidence. I had a wonderful lunch under a gazebo by the water, and used my napkin to wipe the salt laden drops cascading towards my neck.
I remembered. I cried. I had not the chance to sob, but my heart broke nonetheless.
When I was a young Sergeant, a mother sobbed uncontrollably on my low quarters when I worked the funeral detail for her 19 year old boy, and it still haunts me. I hear her wails when I least expect it. The sound of pure agony and loss. A parent who has outlasted their child. A realization that nothing will ever be the same. An awareness of the unfairness.
The memorials haunt me. The empathy for the families, who surely don't celebrate with beer and burgers, but with a longing for the beautiful person who has left behind an empty seat at the picnic table, breaks my heart.
I wish for them to be able to feel my excitement. I want to spread it, pass it around, getting as many people infected with liberation from misery as I possibly can. I want them to be able to smile through the day with positive memories after a good cry, because we all know the cry has to happen in one form or another. Maybe a corner cry, maybe just a tear on a small plane in the mountains of Alaska. Cry. Let it all be flushed out. Then take the day to celebrate life instead of mourning death.
As Gen George S. Patton said so eloquently, "It is foolish and wrong to mourn the men who died. Rather we should thank God that such men lived."
I spent an afternoon running through a glacially fed river that only went waist deep in 80 degree weather with friends and a dog, grinning like an 8 year old. I laughed at myself as I stumbled over silt bars, slipped, tripped, and leapt through the refreshing goodness.
I followed this with a trip out to a dock to watch the full moon rise over the mountains. The clouds played a lazy game of hide and seek with the light that rested on the rippling water like a luminescent kayak while I turned up the radio and drank in the enticement of night with a side of Irish rock.
I took a morning hike out to Seduction Point, and set up a lunch on the hot, black rocks overlooking the water. I watched two pods of porpoises play carelessly. I witnessed a young eagle being chased by a raven, and after about a half hour of soaking up the sun, I was privied to the spectacle of a humpback whale doing what experts call tail slapping, but I choose to believe was a temper tantrum. This big baby was lamenting his girlfriend's decision to go out to dance instead of staying with him to watch television. He repeatedly lifted his tail out of the water and slammed it down with all the force of a man scorned, sending up what seemed like tidal waves in his wake. The sound thundered like a freight train against the jagged rock and glaciers, echoing like spirits calling to me to stay forever.
I sea kayaked to Battery Point and fell asleep on a beautifully secluded beach while the rest of the town "Beer Fested." The moment was spectacular. Serene. Sanctified. Satisfying.
I've met people who make me smile. It's refreshing to be surrounded by friendly, unassuming folks who share my thoughts about the general public: Everyone is good. Patience is all it takes to see that, and if you wait enough, inevitably a person will surprise you with their goodness.
I am bursting at the seams with what I can only describe as a lightness of being, not unbearable in the least. I finally, truly understand the overwhelming longing to discover a way to bottle it and inject it into the soul of the world. I wish with all my being that everyone could feel as great as I have recently. I wish so hard that it aches.
It seems unfair that it isn't understood as universal. Some truly believe their destiny is to be satisfied, not happy, but complacent. If they could only experience true happiness; liberation from the chains of mediocrity, they'd never return to the lifestyle of the sedentary soul.
I shed more than a few tears today. Every Memorial Day I sit down in a corner and cry like a baby until the hurt seeps away in a flood of salt, leaving only grainy streaks of white on my swollen cheeks. I sob until my shoulders have no more energy to rise and fall. I ask myself, the world, anyone who will listen, "Why?"
Today I didn't get to lose myself completely in my corner cry. Instead, I went on a flight through the mountains, and in complete awe of the jagged peaks surrounding Haines, I shed a discrete tear. I took a walk through the town and wore sunglasses to hide the evidence. I had a wonderful lunch under a gazebo by the water, and used my napkin to wipe the salt laden drops cascading towards my neck.
I remembered. I cried. I had not the chance to sob, but my heart broke nonetheless.
When I was a young Sergeant, a mother sobbed uncontrollably on my low quarters when I worked the funeral detail for her 19 year old boy, and it still haunts me. I hear her wails when I least expect it. The sound of pure agony and loss. A parent who has outlasted their child. A realization that nothing will ever be the same. An awareness of the unfairness.
The memorials haunt me. The empathy for the families, who surely don't celebrate with beer and burgers, but with a longing for the beautiful person who has left behind an empty seat at the picnic table, breaks my heart.
I wish for them to be able to feel my excitement. I want to spread it, pass it around, getting as many people infected with liberation from misery as I possibly can. I want them to be able to smile through the day with positive memories after a good cry, because we all know the cry has to happen in one form or another. Maybe a corner cry, maybe just a tear on a small plane in the mountains of Alaska. Cry. Let it all be flushed out. Then take the day to celebrate life instead of mourning death.
As Gen George S. Patton said so eloquently, "It is foolish and wrong to mourn the men who died. Rather we should thank God that such men lived."
Monday, May 17, 2010
Selling Sweet Solitude
I'm single. I chose to be single because I didn't like the man I was with. I felt I loved him at a point, but when it came down to it, he beat the like right out of my heart. He worked long and hard at it as if training for a marathon. Day after day, moment after moment. He worked at it like he was otherwise unemployed. Eventually, in order to gain space, I told him I needed him to leave. I needed time to figure out what I truly wanted, because in my heart I knew it wasn't him. He made me second guess everything that came naturally for me, down to how much space I used on a counter top when I cooked, and how I taught MY salsa lessons. He told me the things I did for him didn't matter, that he didn't care about my side of discussions. He told me all sorts of things, and the bottom line was: I didn't like him anymore, and by the time he decided to change, all of my energy had been spent.
I liked to hear from him, but I didn't like having a conversation with him. I always felt like I needed to console him. Like I was playing a role. Like he didn't really want to ever hear the truth. I knew he didn't like my sense of humor, and I made efforts to tone it down. He didn't like my approach to life, so I toned that down, too.
Essentially, I became a watered down version of Rita. I was Rita .05.
He was handsome, although his self esteem was low enough that if I didn't tell him that, he would constantly doubt it. He was a very bright man, although he got upset with me because his intelligence was what he called "behind the scenes," while mine revolved around tangible concepts for most. Languages, excitement, life.
I'm not sure why I stayed as long as I did. Maybe it was the "He understands what I've been through" syndrome. Or maybe it was because I wasn't sure I'd find someone else faster than me. Even now, I'm not sure.
I asked him to stop contacting me, because I found myself wanting to hear from him, but not wanting to talk to him. I wanted a way out, and I found it. It was that easy.
I haven't felt more whole than I do right now, without him in my life. I thought I'd miss him dearly, want him near, want to hear from him, but I rarely thought of him. I took the alone time to turn on my voice recorder, record my thoughts, and really dig deep into myself. I decided to take the time to try to find the demons that haunt my dreams, and sometimes cause my insomnia. I wanted to find it, nurture it, feed it, and understand it.
I've decided to write a book.
Some of you have known this for a while. Some of you haven't. There it is. I'm actively working on a book. That's all you get. :)
Recently we have dropped the Facebook friends thing. I told him goodbye over email, our first contact since the beginning of April. He responded that he thinks I'm lying to myself. I'm not really happy, and that I'm self destructing because I'm trying to "sell" my enjoy life mentality to anyone who will listen.
My feelings were hurt for a moment, because I don't believe that is true at all.
Then I thought about things for an evening. Before we split, he told me I'd be better off without him, happier, and life would be more fun for me. He told me that I didn't need him like he needed me, and he was probably holding me back. I told him that wasn't true, although there was a nagging need to tell him otherwise. I held back because...well, I'm not sure why.
But he was right. Without him, I've been free to think as I please, embrace people from all walks of life, shrug off the confines of societal norms, and truly enjoy life in its separate moments. The more I look at it, the more I feel encouraged to live that way, for returning to the lifestyle I led prior seems entirely too confining.
I'm not claiming to be healed. I have nightmares. I can't sleep some nights. Sometimes I have to laugh at myself because a crack or pop will make me jump so high out of my seat that people back away with that wary look in their eyes that's specially reserved for crazies.
Three times I've been in a situation where I've relaxed every muscle completely since I've been in Alaska. A yoga/dance class and two separate wellness/yoga classes. Each time when I completely relaxed, I was being blown up again, as clear and vivid as if it was happening THAT moment. It's there. I recognize it. I'm not feigning being cured or blissful forgetfulness.
I am, however, curious of the origins. I'm curious of the demons I have, and excited about the prospect of dealing with them one by one. I've taken my voice recorder out with me on runs daily. I have hours of thoughts recorded, and day by day, I put them into writing, and get closer to my answers. Closer by immeasurable distances, almost unnoticeable, but closer, nonetheless.
There are two ways to deal with this. Every day I could lament the 8.5 years I lost to the government, the nerves that have been frazzled and frayed by close calls, and the loneliness that is being by yourself in a foreign land (in this case, Alaska). I could spend my days sulking in my room worried about my past, my future, my savings, my mortgage, what people think of me, my faults, my scars, my shortcomings. OR I can seize this as an opportunity to enjoy the vistas, the solitude of river and running time, the differences of the locals, and the possible exploration opportunities in the local mountains. I could take the time to explore my heart, my mind, and my soul in positive ways instead.
I'm beyond beginning to enjoy being alone. It's addicting. Solitude is indeed something to be celebrated at times. Quiet moments that can be appreciated instead of suffered are something to smile about.
I will apologize to anyone who feels I'm trying to "sell" them on my happiness. I know I'm happy. I break into random smiles when I'm alone. I feel the euphoric high I used to associate only with dancing and running randomly throughout the day. Sure, I have moments of discontent, but again, MOMENTS. There are many moments, each with its own beginning and its own end. I don't have time to let a negative moment bleed into the next which could easily be the opposite.
I'm satisfied with my place in life. Sorry, it's not for sale.
I liked to hear from him, but I didn't like having a conversation with him. I always felt like I needed to console him. Like I was playing a role. Like he didn't really want to ever hear the truth. I knew he didn't like my sense of humor, and I made efforts to tone it down. He didn't like my approach to life, so I toned that down, too.
Essentially, I became a watered down version of Rita. I was Rita .05.
He was handsome, although his self esteem was low enough that if I didn't tell him that, he would constantly doubt it. He was a very bright man, although he got upset with me because his intelligence was what he called "behind the scenes," while mine revolved around tangible concepts for most. Languages, excitement, life.
I'm not sure why I stayed as long as I did. Maybe it was the "He understands what I've been through" syndrome. Or maybe it was because I wasn't sure I'd find someone else faster than me. Even now, I'm not sure.
I asked him to stop contacting me, because I found myself wanting to hear from him, but not wanting to talk to him. I wanted a way out, and I found it. It was that easy.
I haven't felt more whole than I do right now, without him in my life. I thought I'd miss him dearly, want him near, want to hear from him, but I rarely thought of him. I took the alone time to turn on my voice recorder, record my thoughts, and really dig deep into myself. I decided to take the time to try to find the demons that haunt my dreams, and sometimes cause my insomnia. I wanted to find it, nurture it, feed it, and understand it.
I've decided to write a book.
Some of you have known this for a while. Some of you haven't. There it is. I'm actively working on a book. That's all you get. :)
Recently we have dropped the Facebook friends thing. I told him goodbye over email, our first contact since the beginning of April. He responded that he thinks I'm lying to myself. I'm not really happy, and that I'm self destructing because I'm trying to "sell" my enjoy life mentality to anyone who will listen.
My feelings were hurt for a moment, because I don't believe that is true at all.
Then I thought about things for an evening. Before we split, he told me I'd be better off without him, happier, and life would be more fun for me. He told me that I didn't need him like he needed me, and he was probably holding me back. I told him that wasn't true, although there was a nagging need to tell him otherwise. I held back because...well, I'm not sure why.
But he was right. Without him, I've been free to think as I please, embrace people from all walks of life, shrug off the confines of societal norms, and truly enjoy life in its separate moments. The more I look at it, the more I feel encouraged to live that way, for returning to the lifestyle I led prior seems entirely too confining.
I'm not claiming to be healed. I have nightmares. I can't sleep some nights. Sometimes I have to laugh at myself because a crack or pop will make me jump so high out of my seat that people back away with that wary look in their eyes that's specially reserved for crazies.
Three times I've been in a situation where I've relaxed every muscle completely since I've been in Alaska. A yoga/dance class and two separate wellness/yoga classes. Each time when I completely relaxed, I was being blown up again, as clear and vivid as if it was happening THAT moment. It's there. I recognize it. I'm not feigning being cured or blissful forgetfulness.
I am, however, curious of the origins. I'm curious of the demons I have, and excited about the prospect of dealing with them one by one. I've taken my voice recorder out with me on runs daily. I have hours of thoughts recorded, and day by day, I put them into writing, and get closer to my answers. Closer by immeasurable distances, almost unnoticeable, but closer, nonetheless.
There are two ways to deal with this. Every day I could lament the 8.5 years I lost to the government, the nerves that have been frazzled and frayed by close calls, and the loneliness that is being by yourself in a foreign land (in this case, Alaska). I could spend my days sulking in my room worried about my past, my future, my savings, my mortgage, what people think of me, my faults, my scars, my shortcomings. OR I can seize this as an opportunity to enjoy the vistas, the solitude of river and running time, the differences of the locals, and the possible exploration opportunities in the local mountains. I could take the time to explore my heart, my mind, and my soul in positive ways instead.
I'm beyond beginning to enjoy being alone. It's addicting. Solitude is indeed something to be celebrated at times. Quiet moments that can be appreciated instead of suffered are something to smile about.
I will apologize to anyone who feels I'm trying to "sell" them on my happiness. I know I'm happy. I break into random smiles when I'm alone. I feel the euphoric high I used to associate only with dancing and running randomly throughout the day. Sure, I have moments of discontent, but again, MOMENTS. There are many moments, each with its own beginning and its own end. I don't have time to let a negative moment bleed into the next which could easily be the opposite.
I'm satisfied with my place in life. Sorry, it's not for sale.
Sunday, May 9, 2010
Camping Con Crazy Kids
A favorite saying of mine is "Age is finite, immaturity is forever."
My soul is soaring. I'm smiling. I'm nodding my head visibly to a tune in my head that I wish everyone else could hear, and I can only guess my eyes are sparkling.
Youth.
An old track coach of mine once told me to come to practice excited because excitement is contagious. We all have off days, but that one "You can do it," super excited smile, or pat on the back may be the catalyst necessary for an amazing day.
The beauty of youth is how easily that excitement comes. Get a group of young kids together and the giggling commences almost immediately. Nicknames are made, like the girl, Tessa, who was nicknamed Jeff because she had 2 older brothers. Apparently this meant that she had an 88% chance of being a boy when she was born, so logically her nickname would be that of a male. Then there's Amanda, who has the other boy name, Merv.
That one's explanation eludes me.
A stranger who was deemed as "cool" comes through on her promise to visit at their campsite, and it's nothing but cheers all around. Hugs, laughs, and stories. Pictures are taken, jokes told, and memories made.
Two different generations, completely different backgrounds, different nationalities, different color skin...all come together on a public campground in Haines, Alaska. Come together, like long lost siblings.
There was a game introduced to me in Lake Tahoe called Kung Fu. It's essentially a way to play twister from a kung fu stance, with a bit of competitive edge. It's all about hitting hands, fluid motions, and getting caught in silly positions.
After being begged for salsa lessons, I chose to introduce this game to the kids. We played for 2 hours straight, chopping, jumping, and falling. We laughed so hard I got side stitches. I fell so hard, I have new bruises on my elbows. By the end of the evening, even the reluctant, "too cool for school" kids had caught the excitement.
Excitement seeps into your spirit, lighting everything along the way. It radiates from your eyes, your smile, and your soul. Jokes become hilarious, opportunities seem endless, and everyone around you becomes your friend in some way or other. It's incredibly easy to tell if somebody around you is excited. Generally it creates a smile on your face, and no matter how hard you try, your worries seem harder and harder to hold close.
You should watch sometime as outliers get pulled into a game. They sit on the outskirts, grimacing, judging. Then slowly but surely, their interest is piqued. They start to see humor in the silliness, and then suddenly, they are in the next game laughing as hard as they have all week.
Tonight, every single child and teacher was involved in my game. Every single person radiated excitement. Passersby stopped to watch, laughing at the ridiculousness, readily coming down with serious cases of excitement.
It was an evening I shall never forget. I gained 30 siblings, 30 friends, 30 fellow immature individuals. I caught acute excitement and spread it as quickly as I could.
I'm contagious. It's time you get infected.
My soul is soaring. I'm smiling. I'm nodding my head visibly to a tune in my head that I wish everyone else could hear, and I can only guess my eyes are sparkling.
Youth.
An old track coach of mine once told me to come to practice excited because excitement is contagious. We all have off days, but that one "You can do it," super excited smile, or pat on the back may be the catalyst necessary for an amazing day.
The beauty of youth is how easily that excitement comes. Get a group of young kids together and the giggling commences almost immediately. Nicknames are made, like the girl, Tessa, who was nicknamed Jeff because she had 2 older brothers. Apparently this meant that she had an 88% chance of being a boy when she was born, so logically her nickname would be that of a male. Then there's Amanda, who has the other boy name, Merv.
That one's explanation eludes me.
A stranger who was deemed as "cool" comes through on her promise to visit at their campsite, and it's nothing but cheers all around. Hugs, laughs, and stories. Pictures are taken, jokes told, and memories made.
Two different generations, completely different backgrounds, different nationalities, different color skin...all come together on a public campground in Haines, Alaska. Come together, like long lost siblings.
There was a game introduced to me in Lake Tahoe called Kung Fu. It's essentially a way to play twister from a kung fu stance, with a bit of competitive edge. It's all about hitting hands, fluid motions, and getting caught in silly positions.
After being begged for salsa lessons, I chose to introduce this game to the kids. We played for 2 hours straight, chopping, jumping, and falling. We laughed so hard I got side stitches. I fell so hard, I have new bruises on my elbows. By the end of the evening, even the reluctant, "too cool for school" kids had caught the excitement.
Excitement seeps into your spirit, lighting everything along the way. It radiates from your eyes, your smile, and your soul. Jokes become hilarious, opportunities seem endless, and everyone around you becomes your friend in some way or other. It's incredibly easy to tell if somebody around you is excited. Generally it creates a smile on your face, and no matter how hard you try, your worries seem harder and harder to hold close.
You should watch sometime as outliers get pulled into a game. They sit on the outskirts, grimacing, judging. Then slowly but surely, their interest is piqued. They start to see humor in the silliness, and then suddenly, they are in the next game laughing as hard as they have all week.
Tonight, every single child and teacher was involved in my game. Every single person radiated excitement. Passersby stopped to watch, laughing at the ridiculousness, readily coming down with serious cases of excitement.
It was an evening I shall never forget. I gained 30 siblings, 30 friends, 30 fellow immature individuals. I caught acute excitement and spread it as quickly as I could.
I'm contagious. It's time you get infected.
Saturday, May 8, 2010
Frantic Food Frenzy
I've been in Haines, AK for a little over two weeks now. It's a small, cozy town where outsiders pick up their mail with the address "general delivery." It's a town where the gas stations close at seven, but the liquor store is open until midnight. A town where there are absolutely no chain restaurants, one bank, one post office, and per square foot, more animals than people. I love this place. It's 9:22 pm right now and it's bright outside. Haines is a town that has 3 times more bald eagles than people in November. I used the ONLY photo printing machine in town on Thursday, and 8X10 prints were almost $7 a piece!!!
There is one good pizza restaurant, 2 bars, and several small coffee in a box type food stops. I hadn't eaten out yet... Until today, that is. For the past two weeks, all the guides have been ranting and raving about has been this little burger place called 33 Mile. When I asked them, they told me 33 Mile had the BEST burgers in South East Alaska, and they bake their pies on Tuesdays. They told me I HAD to get the "Triple Threat," which is a burger, shake, and pie.
I rose to the challenge, of course. The only catch is, 33 Mile earned it's name because it's located on mile 33 of the Haines Highway. That means it's 33 miles from the center of town, and 34 miles from the guide house. The price of gas out here is over $3.50 per gallon. I drive as little as I can. In fact, I've been riding my bike a bunch lately because the folks I normally give rides haven't been giving me gas money in return. Easy fix.
So, I thought I'd earn my food today with a 34 mile ride out. Easy enough.
I started off with a smile on my face, and "Blessed is this Life" in my head. I waved at every oncoming car, sang, hummed, and gawked at the five bald eagles I saw before even leaving town. There's something about the national bird that will never get old to me. Maybe it's the combination of majestic, snow-capped mountains against a brilliantly blue sky, all reflected in the glassy pools of the Chilkat. Add a giant raptor, and I'm in love.
I made it fifteen miles out of town when a friend of mine passed me in a car. He looked puzzled.
Around 21, things started to hurt a little. I started to doubt my sanity, and started to consider hitchhiking home. (After I ate my burger, of course!)
After what felt like 5 hours longer, I finally saw the 1 mile until food sign at mile 32. 33 Mile is only 1 mile away!!! I tried to pick up the pace, but all I could do was plug along sluggishly.
Man this is rough!!!
When I finally arrived, I was FAMISHED!!! I went in and asked for the triple threat, which only earned me puzzled looks from the employees. Apparently, there's no "triple threat" on the menu. It's just something my friends made up. So, I cautiously asked for a milk shake. She told me the machine wasn't working today.
CRAP!
I made up for the lack of sugar by ordering two cream sodas instead. Then I ordered sweet potatoe soup, a cheese and mushroom burger, and fries. I took Love in the Time of Cholera, along with my two sodas and water to the tables outside to relax and eat when 30 sixteen year old students from White Horse came up on bikes.
CRAP!
So much for a quiet meal.
I had the pleasure of sharing my table with 10 sixteen year old girls. The waitress promtly came to me and told me they were also out of sweet potatoe soup.
CRAP!
Beef and noodle it is.
I got to chatting with the girls as my food was being prepared. We began to compare Canadian and American stereotypes. They think we are fat with no manners. Oh, and Bush messed up a bunch. :D I thought that was cute. I started to point out their funny way of saying about, pasta, and their completely unnecessary interjection ay at the end of EVERY FREAKIN' SENTENCE.
We laughed, ate, and laughed more. Their program has them travelling with their teacher for the next 6 weeks, learning along the way. They rode 60 miles today as well, plan to camp in Mosquito Lake (better them than me), will hit Haines tomorrow, go swimming at the pool for 2 weeks, hike to Battery Point, and then stay at Portage Cove in the evening. I made plans to meet up with them at their campsite for more laughs.
My food was amazing. I got my burger as they were just starting to order. They looked just as famished, so I offered some of my food. (Did you really believe that? You know me better than that!) What really happened is as follows:
Me: Are you guys hungry? (nodding towards my food)
Girls: (In unison) STARVING!!!
Me: Sucks to be you! (Shoving the burger in my mouth, looking up into the sky in ectasy, and making a show of having food.)
HA! The consensus at the end of our dinner was "Rita's really cool."
I could have told them that if they had asked.
Reluctantly, I left them at the restaurant after about an hour and a half of banter. I got back on the road and realized why things had been so hard on the way up. It was the way UP. Mile 4-33 is pretty much ALL a gradual uphill!!! Some of it wasn't so gradual. So, my ride back was cake. It was so gradual that I needed to pedal the entire time, but not nearly on as low a gear. So, I think I made good time. I'm not sure. I don't have a watch.
Now I'm sitting in a bar, using the wi fi. I'm waiting until 10:00 so I can listen to some live music at the other bar in town.
I'm well fed, hydrated, and happy. I've earned my food, and earned the right to drink a little this evening as well. :)
"Blessed is this life, oh, and I'm gonna celebrate being alive!"
There is one good pizza restaurant, 2 bars, and several small coffee in a box type food stops. I hadn't eaten out yet... Until today, that is. For the past two weeks, all the guides have been ranting and raving about has been this little burger place called 33 Mile. When I asked them, they told me 33 Mile had the BEST burgers in South East Alaska, and they bake their pies on Tuesdays. They told me I HAD to get the "Triple Threat," which is a burger, shake, and pie.
I rose to the challenge, of course. The only catch is, 33 Mile earned it's name because it's located on mile 33 of the Haines Highway. That means it's 33 miles from the center of town, and 34 miles from the guide house. The price of gas out here is over $3.50 per gallon. I drive as little as I can. In fact, I've been riding my bike a bunch lately because the folks I normally give rides haven't been giving me gas money in return. Easy fix.
So, I thought I'd earn my food today with a 34 mile ride out. Easy enough.
I started off with a smile on my face, and "Blessed is this Life" in my head. I waved at every oncoming car, sang, hummed, and gawked at the five bald eagles I saw before even leaving town. There's something about the national bird that will never get old to me. Maybe it's the combination of majestic, snow-capped mountains against a brilliantly blue sky, all reflected in the glassy pools of the Chilkat. Add a giant raptor, and I'm in love.
I made it fifteen miles out of town when a friend of mine passed me in a car. He looked puzzled.
Around 21, things started to hurt a little. I started to doubt my sanity, and started to consider hitchhiking home. (After I ate my burger, of course!)
After what felt like 5 hours longer, I finally saw the 1 mile until food sign at mile 32. 33 Mile is only 1 mile away!!! I tried to pick up the pace, but all I could do was plug along sluggishly.
Man this is rough!!!
When I finally arrived, I was FAMISHED!!! I went in and asked for the triple threat, which only earned me puzzled looks from the employees. Apparently, there's no "triple threat" on the menu. It's just something my friends made up. So, I cautiously asked for a milk shake. She told me the machine wasn't working today.
CRAP!
I made up for the lack of sugar by ordering two cream sodas instead. Then I ordered sweet potatoe soup, a cheese and mushroom burger, and fries. I took Love in the Time of Cholera, along with my two sodas and water to the tables outside to relax and eat when 30 sixteen year old students from White Horse came up on bikes.
CRAP!
So much for a quiet meal.
I had the pleasure of sharing my table with 10 sixteen year old girls. The waitress promtly came to me and told me they were also out of sweet potatoe soup.
CRAP!
Beef and noodle it is.
I got to chatting with the girls as my food was being prepared. We began to compare Canadian and American stereotypes. They think we are fat with no manners. Oh, and Bush messed up a bunch. :D I thought that was cute. I started to point out their funny way of saying about, pasta, and their completely unnecessary interjection ay at the end of EVERY FREAKIN' SENTENCE.
We laughed, ate, and laughed more. Their program has them travelling with their teacher for the next 6 weeks, learning along the way. They rode 60 miles today as well, plan to camp in Mosquito Lake (better them than me), will hit Haines tomorrow, go swimming at the pool for 2 weeks, hike to Battery Point, and then stay at Portage Cove in the evening. I made plans to meet up with them at their campsite for more laughs.
My food was amazing. I got my burger as they were just starting to order. They looked just as famished, so I offered some of my food. (Did you really believe that? You know me better than that!) What really happened is as follows:
Me: Are you guys hungry? (nodding towards my food)
Girls: (In unison) STARVING!!!
Me: Sucks to be you! (Shoving the burger in my mouth, looking up into the sky in ectasy, and making a show of having food.)
HA! The consensus at the end of our dinner was "Rita's really cool."
I could have told them that if they had asked.
Reluctantly, I left them at the restaurant after about an hour and a half of banter. I got back on the road and realized why things had been so hard on the way up. It was the way UP. Mile 4-33 is pretty much ALL a gradual uphill!!! Some of it wasn't so gradual. So, my ride back was cake. It was so gradual that I needed to pedal the entire time, but not nearly on as low a gear. So, I think I made good time. I'm not sure. I don't have a watch.
Now I'm sitting in a bar, using the wi fi. I'm waiting until 10:00 so I can listen to some live music at the other bar in town.
I'm well fed, hydrated, and happy. I've earned my food, and earned the right to drink a little this evening as well. :)
"Blessed is this life, oh, and I'm gonna celebrate being alive!"
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Testing Trust
Two things happened yesterday that inspired me to write this blog. First, I single handedly reaffirmed my faith in people, and second, I decided I absolutely don't want to be around those who do not readily trust others.
The long and short of the former is this: A couple from France contacted me on Http://www.couchsurfing.com two nights ago telling me that they needed a place to stay last minute. I had previously discussed couchsurfing with my manager, and was under the impression things were good as long as they were only there for a day or two. So, I checked out their profile and told them I'd offer a place for them. No problem. I told a few folks, and they were excited about the idea.
Another said, "As long as they don't steal my shit." We'll return to that later.
The bottom line is, I brought them to the house, but it was not allowed for them to spend the night.
I tried to find them a different place to stay, but nothing worked out. When it came down to it, they'd end up camping. That's when they asked me if it would be ok to use my car. Without hesitation, I told them it would be perfect.
I pulled out my seats from the back, removed everything, layed down some thermarests, some sleeping bags, and set out a candle. Voila, instant cozy room. I decided to safeguard nothing. I left over $150 in cash in the front, $4,000 of gemstones in the change dispenser, 2 Ipods, my credit cards, and my $3,000 camera and lens in the car. I gave them the keys and full reign.
We set up a time to meet up in the morning so I could take them to the road to continue their journey, and then could continue on to training. When I went to leave the house to walk to where we parked the car (it was deemed they couldn't sleep on the property at all) I was surprised to almost bump into Clo and Le Beun, my new couchsurfing friends from France. Not only had they cleaned everything they left behind, but they went out of their way to be at my door before I went to them!
I took them to get some coffee, dropped them at a decent hitching site, and bid them farewell.
I still have my car, my $150 in cash, $4,000 in gemstones, 2 Ipods, credit cards, and my $3,000 camera and lense. In this, I reaffirmed that people are indeed good. They are to be trusted, and to think otherwise is to cheat yourself from what could be a fully enriching experience in life.
Onto the latter issue. I was fully disappointed in 3 of my housemates. A rule was posted that visitors are allowed, i.e. you can head downtown and bring home a girl that night without reprisal. Somebody you meet downtown can stay for days, but verified and vouched for members of a respected online community cannot. I'm having a hard time understanding, appreciating, and accepting this.
This reaction was part of why I left everything of value in my vehicle. Today, people have become untrusting. The fear of opening your home and heart to others is overriding our humanity.
Today I made the semi calculated decision to move out of guide housing within the next month. This month is rent free, but on the 1st of June, rent is $175 a month. The digs are nice. There's a great kitchen, nice back yard, decent sized rooms, and hot water. I like my roommates, but since the couchsurfing "incident," I've noticed some tension between the live-in managers and myself. I feel like a guest in their house instead of at home.
And so, I've decided to camp out this summer. I'm looking for a place to stay, be it tent, treehouse, or vehicle. I might ride out this month, as I'm working on a scrapbook that needs some type of cleanliness to be successful, but as soon as the book is finished, I'm gone.
I think it's been too long since I've used my burners, tent, and propane. (Not together, of course!)
Open your hearts, open your minds, people. Regain your humanity and become in touch with each other! Scary movies aren't real. All people are not out to get you! Challenge yourself today, and start a conversation with a stranger. Sit down with a homeless man, and learn something about life.
The long and short of the former is this: A couple from France contacted me on Http://www.couchsurfing.com two nights ago telling me that they needed a place to stay last minute. I had previously discussed couchsurfing with my manager, and was under the impression things were good as long as they were only there for a day or two. So, I checked out their profile and told them I'd offer a place for them. No problem. I told a few folks, and they were excited about the idea.
Another said, "As long as they don't steal my shit." We'll return to that later.
The bottom line is, I brought them to the house, but it was not allowed for them to spend the night.
I tried to find them a different place to stay, but nothing worked out. When it came down to it, they'd end up camping. That's when they asked me if it would be ok to use my car. Without hesitation, I told them it would be perfect.
I pulled out my seats from the back, removed everything, layed down some thermarests, some sleeping bags, and set out a candle. Voila, instant cozy room. I decided to safeguard nothing. I left over $150 in cash in the front, $4,000 of gemstones in the change dispenser, 2 Ipods, my credit cards, and my $3,000 camera and lens in the car. I gave them the keys and full reign.
We set up a time to meet up in the morning so I could take them to the road to continue their journey, and then could continue on to training. When I went to leave the house to walk to where we parked the car (it was deemed they couldn't sleep on the property at all) I was surprised to almost bump into Clo and Le Beun, my new couchsurfing friends from France. Not only had they cleaned everything they left behind, but they went out of their way to be at my door before I went to them!
I took them to get some coffee, dropped them at a decent hitching site, and bid them farewell.
I still have my car, my $150 in cash, $4,000 in gemstones, 2 Ipods, credit cards, and my $3,000 camera and lense. In this, I reaffirmed that people are indeed good. They are to be trusted, and to think otherwise is to cheat yourself from what could be a fully enriching experience in life.
Onto the latter issue. I was fully disappointed in 3 of my housemates. A rule was posted that visitors are allowed, i.e. you can head downtown and bring home a girl that night without reprisal. Somebody you meet downtown can stay for days, but verified and vouched for members of a respected online community cannot. I'm having a hard time understanding, appreciating, and accepting this.
This reaction was part of why I left everything of value in my vehicle. Today, people have become untrusting. The fear of opening your home and heart to others is overriding our humanity.
Today I made the semi calculated decision to move out of guide housing within the next month. This month is rent free, but on the 1st of June, rent is $175 a month. The digs are nice. There's a great kitchen, nice back yard, decent sized rooms, and hot water. I like my roommates, but since the couchsurfing "incident," I've noticed some tension between the live-in managers and myself. I feel like a guest in their house instead of at home.
And so, I've decided to camp out this summer. I'm looking for a place to stay, be it tent, treehouse, or vehicle. I might ride out this month, as I'm working on a scrapbook that needs some type of cleanliness to be successful, but as soon as the book is finished, I'm gone.
I think it's been too long since I've used my burners, tent, and propane. (Not together, of course!)
Open your hearts, open your minds, people. Regain your humanity and become in touch with each other! Scary movies aren't real. All people are not out to get you! Challenge yourself today, and start a conversation with a stranger. Sit down with a homeless man, and learn something about life.
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