I love the things that can't be bottled

I love the things that can't be bottled.  The things that you love because they are wild, free.  The things that, once bottled, cease to lose that freedom and wilderness that made me love them in the first place.  The smell of the air when it's just cold enough to see your breath, and there is a dew hanging in the air that threatens to crystallize.  When you take in those lungfuls of air and you can't imagine being in any other moment than this one. Your soul was meant to be there, sucking in the tiny crystals and attempting to take in the moment.  That is a smell, a sensation, and a way of life.  It's why I love living here, where the air is something to be in love with.  Does that sounds strange? I'm in love with air.  It looks weird when I type it or say it aloud.  Maybe it isn't the air I love, but that wilderness that comes with it.  Because when I truly take the time to notice the air, it's when I'm taking the time to notice all of the other little details that make this life so incredible to live.  It's the color of the larches and tamaracks as we shift to a new season.  It's the clear water that's so still it feels like a mirror, clearer than any you've seen before.  A mirror that reflects back just you and your wild backdrop.  Nothing artificial to fixate on.  It's just you, changing leaves, and puffs of air that make you feel like a train.  Traipsing through this space with a radical feeling that you're the first person to see these trees, this water, this reflection.  It's a notion I can't seem to get over.  Every day when I look around it's a crippling sense of missed adventure.  There will never be enough time to do all of the things my heart is beating for.  I find it offensive that this world has so many things to offer, and I can't live for centuries to experience it all.  Hell, we aren't even guaranteed decades, years, or hours.  It's why I choose to fiercely love those in my life.  It's why I make it a point to tell people I love them and how my life is changed because of their influence.  It's why I try to only take in the good and deflect the bad.  There's a lot of shit in this world that can get people down.  It's in those moments that I get outside.  The world has thrived for billions of years.

I can't remember where I've heard it, but someone said that you either love the mountains for two reasons; to either be reminded of your mortality or to feel the strength of the human soul.  When I stand on the tops of mountains I feel that sense of mortality.  This mountain will continue to stand the test of time, while I will move into nothingness.  However, I also feel the power of the world is at my fingertips. I am standing in a blessed position that only birds have the privilege of seeing regularly.  I can see everything for miles.  The sense that in this tiny wrinkle in time, this view is mine and mine alone.

So I love the things that can't be bottled because they cause a consciousness, reflection, and perception that will never be replicated.  It would clip the memories' wings, and then I wouldn't get to return there in my moments of fragility.  I might be weak and flawed, but the world will cocoon me with tales of the past, present, and future.

“There is a difference between passive goodness and active goodness, which is, in my opinion, the giving of one’s time and energy in the alleviation of pain and suffering. It entails going out, finding and helping those in suffering and danger and not merely in leading an exemplary life in a purely passive way of doing no wrong.”’
Sir Nicholas Winton, 1909-2015

"Losses aren’t cataclysmic if they teach the heart and
soul their natural cycle of breaking and healing. A
real tragedy? That’s the loss of the heart and soul
themselves. If you’ve abandoned yourself in the effort to keep anyone or anything else, unlearn that pattern. Live your truth, losses be damned. Just like that, your heart and soul will return home." 

–Martha Beck

"I don’t feel that it is necessary to know exactly what I am. The main interest in life and work is to become someone else that you were not in the beginning." 

-Michel Foucault

It's the little things

I have this Lilly Pulitzer photo album, and it holds 100 photos, and so right after I graduated college I began the daunting task of searching for my top 100 photos from college, which was WAY harder than it sounds.  I document everything.  I basically have at least 400 photos for each year I was in school, minimum.

Some of the photos that made the cut and blurry and awful, but when I see them I am reminded of just how wonderful my friends are.

My 19th birthday

Take the above photo, this was my birthday a month into my freshman year.  Prior to 2010, my birthday had always been a big celebration with friends and the start of school, and we would hang out and celebrate for close to 24 hours, complete with water balloons, cake fights, and chalk graffiti.  So I was pretty bummed for my birthday because it was the first time I would be celebrating without most of my friends in 8 years.  Four of my friends took the time to show me that small gestures can mean just as much.  These two drove me all around town getting my favorite things from my favorite restaurants.  Mac and cheese and sweet tea from McAlisters, chicken nuggets from Chick-Fil-A, miso soup from Chopsticks, and a Cranberry Limeade from Sonic for good measure.  They did this without having to ask what I wanted.  They knew because I'm a creature of habit (still am- that will never change) and once I find something I like I stick with it.  After the perfect dinner, one of my other friends had planned this wonderful scavenger hunt around town.  Clues at each place, and what was really great is that he hadn't even experienced all of these places with me.  He had just heard me talk about them and knew the places in town that mattered to me.  That's what friends do.  They listen to your crazy stories, notice what you order, and know that not having all of your friends around for your birthday will make you sad, even if you don't say it out loud.  

So, here's to all of the friends who make life memorable and enjoyable. I really am blessed to have so many people who I care for, and who know me better than I know myself.

Moving Mountains With Teaspoons

I get that I've only been out of Texas for a month now, and basically a week of that was travel and training, and I've only been at my job for three weeks, blah blah blah....
But can it really be this easy to fall into such a great routine? A routine where I get the alone time that I crave, and still begin the process of making friends, while getting back into healthy eating habits and loving my job and the area?

I'm sorry.  That sounds really stupid, and I might hate everything that I'm doing in six months, but I really doubt it.  This feels perfect.

I look forward to my job every morning. I wake up earlier than I need to, so I can be ready and alert when I get to the office because I just love it there.  I haven't willingly woken up earlier than I needed to since 4th grade, if that puts it in perspective for you. My supervisor is possibly one of the coolest people I've met in the last three years.  I love what I get to do at my job.  I manage our seasonal troops.  They typically meet during lunch periods or in after-school programs.  I get to do lesson planning and watch what works, while simultaneously looking for volunteers to take over these troops so they can function when I leave.  Eventually I'll get to try my hand at grant writing, sending out newsletters and press releases, and form new partnerships with other community partners.  Seriously, this job is giving me all of the professional skills that I need to make sure that nonprofit work is what I want to do.

I attended a nonprofit panel that's focus was Intergenerational Leadership and how to prepare the upcoming generation (mine) for roles in nonprofits.  I wasn't even surprised to be the youngest person in the room by probably 10 years.  This kind of stuff matters.  They were discussing how to communicate with our generation, and I was learning a lot about the impression we give off, and some of the broader generalizations that we've been given.  What was interesting is that, despite the internet saying everyone hates us, most of the people in that room were welcoming us with open arms.  They understand that we think and communicate in new ways that they've never considered, and that we might have fresh perspectives on what they've been doing.

My favorite college professor gave me one of the best lessons I've ever had.  I was in her office and we were talking about a variety of things, and she handed me a teaspoon.  She explained that sometimes the work we do is like moving "mountains with teaspoons" and you can't always see the immediate long term effects or any effect at all, but that doesn't mean you're not doing something worthwhile.  We were talking about behavior analysis and autism therapy, but I think that lesson has carried over into pretty much any aspect of my life since I learned it three years ago.  So now that I'm living by the mountains, and doing work that can be very mountainous, I just have to remind myself that slowly but surely, I'm chipping away.  That makes every single email, lesson plan, and craft project more than worth it.  Also, the teaspoon she gave me sits proudly on my desk.

So here's to mountains, nonprofits, hot coffee and tea, majestic puddles with mountain reflections in them, and one month gone from Texas.  What a glorious and growth filled month its been.  I can't wait to see what the next eleven months hold in store.

My how time flies

Well, I'm back in Montana.  This time for the forseeable future.  Isn't that weird? I still think it's a little weird, but I'm happy.  Really happy.  I didn't realize the funk I'd let myself slip into over the last few months after I got back from my summer in Billings. I mean I obviously was happy to see all of my friends and family and eat at my favorite places again and see the things that are familiar and just feel like home, but I felt like something was missing.  I realized what was missing when I was driving up, and just beginning to see the mountains again felt like a a puzzle piece slipped back into place.  The view.  The sense of something so much larger than yourself that it towers over you and forces you to think of your mortality

So I've been back in Montana for two weeks, and now I'm living in Flathead Valley.  Every day when I drive to work I have to focus on making sure I don't get distracted by the amazing view to my left or right.  Every day I feel like I lose my breath when I walk out of my apartment and see this intense fog rolling down the side of the mountain.  Maybe this will become a normal view, and I won't appreciate the way the mountains get sandwiched between the low hanging clouds and the even lower fog.  Soon I might not enjoy all of the rain and snow, but for now it's here and I'm loving it.  I hope I don't ever grow used to the view.  I don't want to take it for granted.  I want to stare it down and remind myself that I am here, in this moment, and to take it for what it is, icy roads and all.