Cheers, August

I ended August with an adventure that I had not planned on: a backpacking trip with Jenn and a group of wonderfully badass women. It was just one night in Jefferson Park here in Oregon. And although it sounds quite simple – hike in 5.5 miles, pitch tent, sleep on ground, then hike out 5.5 miles – I became profoundly anxious after I agreed to go.

This was my first backpacking trip and I didn’t know if I could hike with a 28 pound pack on my back. I was intimidated by the task and made it worse with self-criticism because I didn’t want to hold up the group or make some unknown backpacking blunder.

I worked myself up in my mind to the point of making myself pretty sick a few days before. So, of course, I added that to my reasons why I couldn’t do it. Then I remembered myself. I remembered that I am highly trained at this point in my personal development and I have a CHOICE. I can walk around telling a false story of: “I have anxiety and I can’t do this.” Or, if I like making up stories so much, why don’t I say, “I am strong and brave. This is the adventure I have been waiting for.”

As soon as I changed the story in my brain, the knots in my stomach started to subside and I went to the store to purchase some Gas-X to make sure I wouldn’t be facing problems on the trail. I packed my supplies and made some food then got a few hours of sleep before the 5 a.m. alarm.

Jenn and I set out that morning with our friend Kristina for the trailhead about 2 hours away. We would hike in and meet our other friends who had gone in the night before to scout a campsite. As you may know, the wilderness has seen a major uptick in visitors as our cities have become less desirable places to hangout and campsite accommodations are slim pickings. (All of my friends in the Adirondacks know the perils of city folk flocking to the mountains.)

After I steadied my nerves and my legs (I nearly tipped over when I put my backpack on). We set off on our trek. Immediately, the Universe sent me a sign that all was to be well: We passed a dog on the trail who was a German Shepherd named Rufus. When I was little, we had a German Shepherd named Rufus, so this was all the comfort I needed to know I could do this.

Thankfully, the incline was gentle and I only needed one snack to get through the hike in. We met our group and settled in alongside a lake at the base of Seekseekqua (its Native American name) also called Mount Jefferson.

We took a very brisk dip into the lake. For me, I just splashed in quickly then ran out again. My friend Jess (who is from Oregon) insists that the lake was warm. I vow to take her to Florida and get her in the ocean in August so she can finally know what warm water feels like.

Then we all bundled up and ate our dinner by the lake and took about 1,000 photos of ourselves at sunset. Right here I want to pause and acknowledge that we were perhaps “annoying” to the other people around the lake enjoying the sunset. But as I said there and I will say now, “We paid good money to be here.”

And I mean that. Each of us has paid real money, blood, sweat, tears, and long hours at work to get to this point of our lives to this dream that we were realizing right before our eyes. So, I am going to laugh and take pictures and be annoying because I was not going to allow my critical inner voice or the disdainful glances of strangers (who don’t know how much I truly paid to be there) steal my joy.

At the end of January, I packed up my life in San Diego on the hope that this dream was waiting for me. This dream of being in the wilderness with people I could be myself with, with people who love the same things I do, with people who dream REAL DAMN BIG. I am living my dreams right now and I am so grateful to these women for being part of my dream. I didn’t know who you were before I got here and you have exceeded my every wish. Thank you for making this August magical.

I could end this post right here, but I want to brag about the fact that Natalia lead us out of the wilderness at a blistering speed of 1 hour and 47 minutes. I don’t think I will ever be nervous about my physical strength again.

Dream of a new reality

A few weeks ago, I climbed Table Mountain with Jenn and two other lovely ladies. It was 18.8 miles and 10 hours of hiking. It was not easy at all but the journey was more than worth the physical and emotional toil. It showed me how strong I am and how determined to keep going that I really am and it is providing me a useful analogy for this year.

Suddenly, it’s Aug. 1, 2020. I am sitting on my bed with Buttercup a-snooze near my feet. I’m still in my PJs and I have my headphones on listening to the few songs I have on my August playlist.

August is usually the month of the year that I look forward to celebrating all the joys of my life. I live it up and immerse myself in frivolity. This year it snuck up on me while I was pushing through the indescribable turmoil of 2020.

I have no grandiose plans this month. My plans are to stay healthy and safe and sane by whatever means that takes. And I suppose those are the same plans I have had every August, they’re just simplified now.

This year there are no concerts to wrap myself up in. There’s no trip planned anywhere. There’s just the perpetual act of facing reality every day. I am also determined to get really creative and really grateful. One of my assignments for a seminar I am taking via Zoom is to cultivate a sense of awe and wonder in every area of my life, so I will do that too.

I’m wishing I had more to offer everyone right now. However, there’s just so much going on in the world that the only thing I have to offer is to keep enjoying life. Do the hard work of standing up for justice and then make time for the joy of life – whatever that looks like for you.

Start by giving yourself grace. Heaps of it. We’re all operating at a new level of stressed out that we’ve adjusted to and forgotten that we’re in full-on survival mode. I’m committed to switching gears. Obviously, I’m surviving. I’m still here. I am helping my communities and I am working every day for a better future. So good, check that off the list. I am surviving a massively chaotic year.

Now it’s time to thrive. What does that mean? For me, it means I won’t be looking over my shoulder in fear. I won’t be worrying about what is going to happen next. I will practice being present in the here and now. That sounds overly simple and a little played out, but it remains all I have. Me and a cat a-snooze on the bed.

This week I started thinking about goals and dreams again. I realized I gave my power away to the pandemic, to the chaos across the country, to the antics of the government. These things do not define my life and it is my job to remain faithful and to keep dreaming. A few days ago, I wrote in my journal: “A goal is a dream of a new reality.” Or as Cinderella put it, “A dream is a wish your heart makes.”

This is important because I had stopped letting myself dream. I was only surviving day to day. Dreams are essential to thriving, it gives me a reason to make it through the day to day living. I remember many times I have read about people in the most dire of circumstances saying that they held on to their ability to dream and that is what got them through extreme and life-threatening experiences.

My dream of a new reality looks like everyone being treated equally; it’s kindness for all; it’s abundant opportunities for everyone; it’s peace; it’s health; it’s fairness for every living organism. It’s an uphill climb, no doubt about that. And it’s the climb that I am on. It’s the climb that I have committed myself to and it’s the climb that I absolutely will not quit.

As always, I send you my love. I wish to send you hope and faith, too, and the ability to remain resilient even when the chips are further down than we’ve seen before.

For August, I am bringing back one of my favorite things: The Casual Sunday Beer. If that’s all I do to celebrate this month, well then that’s simply enough for me because it is a huge blessing to afford it and enjoy it.

Note: Thank you to Abe for texting me a rocket ship yesterday and saying it was “because we are going for our dreams!” You reminded me how important that really is. Casual Sunday Beers on me.

In the pandemic

Well, I don’t even know where to begin on this one. There’s a global pandemic, as I am sure you have heard. Each day is a soup of harsh realities mixed with laughter and making the best of things. It’s a lot of stringing silly ideas together and snacks. Never underestimate the morale-boosting power of snacks.

Life has hit a large speed bump. I was on a big-time roll when I got to Portland. I did The Moth again and it was a glorious taste of freedom. I told a story that was so touching to a couple in the audience that they both shook my hand. I was going dancing with Jenn and I had finally started shooting pool with a rather patient and kind teacher.

Now, home has become the workplace, the gym, the discotech, the restaurant, the bar. The biggest outings are going to the grocery store and walking around the neighborhood.

As a copy editor for a newspaper, I read about the pandemic for 40 hours a week. I have cried, I have prayed and I have done my best to be with the information that is impacting us all. It’s not easy. This is not an easy time at all.

This is a serious situation on all fronts. I have felt guilty in many moments because I am healthy and my primary responsibility in this time is to stay sane. Doesn’t seem like much when people are dying and others are alone and scared.

I’m taking each day as it comes. Each one is new and a place I have never been. This was true before the pandemic and it will be true after. I took for granted that there was ever any certainty in life. Things changed quickly and we were not ready. I was often in a rush and I have tried to rush through this experience as well. I don’t think the option to rush even exists anymore.

I have been writing a poem each day to document this time. I see the ups and downs in the stanzas. Some days are beautiful and bright and some days are pitch black.

Here’s a poem from March 31:

Quarantine poem 15.2

This whole thing is like when your car won't start.
The deafening silence when you turn the key and
N O T H I N G H A P P E N S.

The engine doesn't fire up.
You can't go anywhere.
When you intended to go somewhere.

The panic sets in.
Questions race through your mind.
But really there is just one.
How will I F I X T H I S?

You sweat and your pulse races
because maybe you can't this time.

What I can see from this point is that
if I keep going -- if we keep going -- we may not
fix it but we will T R A N S F O R M.

My unsolicited advice for getting through this time is to find something to create, walk outside for at least 30 minutes, eat your veggies and force yourself to have fun. This won’t fix anything but it will help you keep going. Sending you my love in perpetuity.

One big leap

What is there to share? What is the true thing that I have to say?

I left San Diego on Jan. 30 because my heart told me it was time to move on. It was time to feel what was next. I moved to Portland. Leaving San Diego was my final and biggest act of letting go in 2019.

I WISH San Diego had been the place for me. The home I dreamed of. It just wasn’t. After 13 years, I feel sure in this statement. When something is FOR me, I just know it. I know it in all of my being. No matter how I tried to transform myself inside of San Diego, there was always a mismatch. A longing inside me for somewhere else that matched me.

Over the past couple of years, there has been a growing unrest inside me. I criticized myself for it. I had an extremely comfortable life in San Diego. I had the perfect one-bedroom cottage in a hip neighborhood with parking and laundry inside my house. I lived two miles from work. And I had the best boss on any planet in any dimension or alternate universe. She is No. 1.

I had coworkers who make the world go ‘round. I had built loving and lasting friendships with people from many walks of life and of course at the end of every day I always had Buttercup.

I could go on listing all of the wonderful qualities of my old life – I was wearing shorts in January, folks. San Diego is paradise and there is no two ways about that.

However, it just wasn’t my paradise. I grew restless and bored. I wanted room to roam and nature at my fingertips.

I am a girl from the mountains. I am an Adirondack kid and I can’t ever shut up about that. I love talking about living in the woods and that our class trips were hiking and skiing expeditions. I love remembering all the funny things that we all did to get by in the mountains. Things that were commonplace to us, but are far outside the norm for city slickers.

I have been missing the mountains something fierce. I also realized that every time I visited Portland, I never wanted to go back home except to be with Buttercup.

Maybe I am telling this story all a little backwards but that’s quite alright. I don’t want to be caught in focusing on a narrative when the important matter is that the Universe has been sending me the signs of Portland for more than a decade.

I remember in 2004 my friend Sean describing Portland to me and it sounded like Utopia. I tucked that information in the back of my mind and set about my life. I never forgot his words and I can see in my mind the excitement on his face when he was describing the lush landscape of Oregon.

Then over the years people would say to me “you belong in Portland.” I started to relate to that as some distant dream because I had no idea how to extract myself from the comfort of San Diego. Why on earth would I do such a thing?

They (and by “they” I mean Oprah) say that a call from your soul starts out as a whisper then becomes a brick to your forehead the longer you ignore it. Well, on Dec. 27 the brick came and I could not say no. My dad asked me that if he and my mom gave me the first month of rent for Portland could I make the leap. There was no way to say no to that. The rent I would be paying would be to move in with my dear friend and constant adventure buddy Jenn.

So I said yes. And I was terrified to dismantle my life in one month. I got rid of 99 percent of my possessions. My mom flew out from Florida, we cleaned out my place, packed the car and drove 1,000 miles in two days. Buttercup was an angel and only had some meows from the backseat but other than that no complaints.

We arrived in Portland at about 2 p.m. on Jan. 31. Jenn welcomed me with hugs and laughter and a few days later it is starting to sink in what I have done.

A little Portland bathroom graffiti that I saw on Friday night. It reads: “Everything is working out best case scenario.” I know this is true. Photo by Ranger Holly.

It is no small thing to uproot yourself in obedience to a call in your heart. It is an intangible thing. I have no physical documentation to prove that I am supposed to do this. I have nothing but a zillion little clues that took me here. Inexplicable synchronicities that light my path ahead.

Here I am. In Portland. In some moments I am asking myself “WTF did I do?” In others, I have a smile cracked across my face because I know there is so much goodness to come this year. I also know that I am the dreamer of the dream and I create my life. I say how it goes and I declare that this is going to be remarkable. This is a chapter that will be full of love, adventure and overwhelming joy.

I am beyond grateful.

End note: I am sure there are more words to come on this subject. I am still settling into this new world. I miss my San Diego people so much. I am also so grateful for a soft place to land in Portland. I couldn’t have done this without Jenn.

Freedom for 2020

A lot happened from September until today and I will loop back and write about those adventures in the near future. Unrelated, I have been fighting a Florida Swamp Flu for the past week that I picked up while visiting my family for Christmas.

The delights of Florida Swamp Flu are not what I have come to discuss, though. The New Year is what I am contemplating right now. I am such a fan of the start of the year. I am ready for fresh starts and nothing feels fresher than Jan. 1.

Last year, my goals were to let go and create. And like anything that you ask the Universe for, those opportunities showed up in spades. 2019 was challenging and heartbreaking but to frame it positively, it was full of learning, growing and expanding myself beyond who I knew myself to be. I am grateful for it and proud of myself for moving through it all. Gracelessly at times, yet with courage to mess up and try again.

Freedom is the name of the game in 2020. Photo by Ranger Holly.

For 2020, I am putting my focus on one word: Freedom.

Freedom of all sorts. Financial freedom, spiritual freedom, freedom with my time, freedom to travel, freedom to authentically express myself, and much more. More freedom in all areas of my life. After last year, I am interested to see how opportunities for freedom will present themselves throughout 2020.

I am also giving myself the freedom to let love find me. I am letting go of the looking for love around every corner. I don’t just mean romantic love. I mean work that I love, friends that I love, coffee shops that I love and adventures I love. This year, they will all find me. I won’t search, struggle or try to control or grasp at people, places or things. If it doesn’t flow, I will let it go.

Another thing that I am thinking about at the start of this year, is something that my Faux Pa Tom quoted to me from Teddy Roosevelt’s “The Man in the Arena.” In full, it reads:

“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.”

The part that Tom quoted was “his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.” I may not succeed at everything I have done or will do but I have felt the distinct joy of victory and I am determined to have that feeling as much as possible.

Victory and freedom feel quite similar to me. Standing on top of any mountain I have ever climbed. Stepping on stage or to the front of a room and making people laugh. Being at the front of the crowd at the concerts of my favorite bands. These all feel like victory and freedom to me. I am looking forward to digging into these experiences and feelings throughout the year. I accept that this means I will also experience some failures. I know that these failures are temporary and do not define me and that I can keep going.

Cheers to 2020, everyone. Happiness, fun and infinite adventure are available to us all, we just need to get in that arena.