winter, loss & seasons

I'm not sure why I want to talk about loss in this post. Maybe it's the startling events that have recently taken place in the school system, or the death of a good friends dog, or why I feel like life is unbelievably short. In that sense, I feel everyday as if I'm further gone and that I don't have enough time to spend moments with the people that I find most interesting. I'm so careful about who I spend my time with. I think you should be, too.

People so often complain (myself included) about how they are unhappy with their position in life, their scenery, their company; their situations. I felt this so strongly this past week from nothing in particular, but everything in general.

My dear friend was visiting and upon feeling this way, we wandered into the canyon. I swear to you, it could have been a black and white postcard we were in. The trees are dusted in snow and if you squint your eyes, everything looks like an old photograph, with our colorful jackets sticking out like pins in a map. I needed something to put everything in perspective- something vast and magnificent. I have a need to feel this small so that I can remember that the world doesn't revolve around the cost of my rent or what I will do for work in a month.

I think about the death of a season, the end of a year of all it's twists and turns. When the snow falls, I think of the slowness of turning a corner and taking your time observing. I think of movements and the rhythm of my snowshoes through the powder. Seasons take their time. In the spring, the snow will start to melt and underneath the heaviness, the grass will start to grow. I think loss is put in your life to uproot one thing and let the other parts begin.

As I think about this year as a whole, I think about a lot of loss. I lost a community, a feeling of home, a sense of direction, all those things that make up comfort. When I think of this year, I also think about a lot of growth. I found homes in people that I met, discovered community in a neighborhood that took me in like family, and I'm not sure that I ever found a solid direction, but I just went until I couldn't go further, then chose something different. All of this has shaped me into a person I'm not sure I would recognize a year ago. And I thought about these things when I trekked up the hill and it looked like a snowglobe around me. And I thought about these things as I ducked under pine branches and smelled winter in the sap that caught in my hair. And I thought about these things when I sat in the truck eating a handful of clementine oranges, music turned up too high and snowflakes floating onto the console through the open door.

I thought about loss and growth and the shaping of a person's soul over a lifetime and how the heart can get calloused because of what life hands you; the loss that it can bare on your shoulders. I thought about all of the people I know that I believe have had it more painful than the rest, and that many, if not most of them, have decided to love regardless, instead of taking a calloused heart.

The only thing more tragic than a tragedy is what you do with it. And though loss is not easy, a new season is coming.

simple things

Ruthie

I've been appreciating all the small things lately; waking up to the fog of morning and drinking earl grey tea before brewing the coffee and watching it drip dark drops into the Chemex. I love watching the chicks (we have 6) get up and stretch their legs, clumsy and tired. Their feathers are starting to come in patterns and they lay their necks on top of one another's backs to sleep; their little lungs heaving. I love having something so delicate and talkative around.

I especially love the process of building something. I am a pretty impatient person and this is helping me slow down and look at the steps before jumping ahead. I made myself a bench out of reclaimed wood for my closet to have a bit more organization. It's such a simple thing, and I'm head over heels about the way it looks.

I'm falling into simplicity and I think that it's just fine with me.

happenings

It's been an interesting road staying in one spot, let me tell you. My brain has become geared for better leaving than staying, so I'm trying to wrap my head around a month and a half in one spot. This will be the longest I haven't jumped on a plane in 8 months, and the first time I will have finished an entire loaf of bread without it going bad.

I could tell you the amount of lattes quickly downed at airports and train stations and bus stops, and the amount of planes I took to jump around the world. I could also tell you how quickly I can pack a backpack for a 9 day trip for all different weather conditions.

But now the backpacks are hung up on the wall and the baggage-check tickets are piled up like bracelets on the handles. I guess the fear of staying in one place is the fear of getting boring. There are big plans in the works for expeditions and photo shoots, but for now, I have to settle into feeding the chickens every morning and drinking a large cup of coffee, and sending out resumes for photo things.

I just returned from Wyoming where I spent Thanksgiving with my family. We come from a long line of cowboys who work hard and know how to fix things. They drink their coffee black with breakfast and sometimes whiskey after dinner. I always learn something when I make the trek there, and it always encourages me fill up my brain with more. Since my unemployment and a broken laptop, I've put down the camera and found myself spending significant amounts of time in the library. It's good to take a step back from the technology, sometimes. In a way, it's taught me how to slow down; to become less attached. Without the immediate availability of a computer, I was filling my time with things that matter more then checking my facebook 12 times a day. I've spent more time in conversation, and more time learning.

I don't think I'll ever forget the way that my life feels right now- how that now I'm out of school, I'm much more interested in learning. There is a deep curiosity about how the world spins and who inhabits it. I find myself asking more questions and am just generally more interested in things. My attempt to turn those thoughts into photographs is slowly emerging, so it's something that I'm going to keep thinking about.

Now the camera is up and running, a new laptop is here and I'm happily still reading about anthropology, ornithology and welding.

Onward.

Desert

I arrived at the airport in San Francisco on a bus running late, and ran to the check in, just for them to tell me that it was too late to check a bag and I would have to reschedule a flight. And thanks to the kindness of some really nice people at the ticketing counter, they made sure I was on my flight down south.

We packed the car for desert bouldering and set off. Two hours later, we were driving through what looked like it could be a Dr.Suess painting of the moon. We ended up joining camp with a really wonderful couple living in their 1980 Westfalia van who I hope we will be friends with for a long time and we climbed until our skin was pink and raw from crystals.


The desert is one of my favorite landscapes. Dust bowl afternoons, coyote nights and cactus days.

I feel just as free there as I do in the high plains and I settle into the dusty living and warm mornings. I love waking up cold and laying in the sun to soak the warmth into my bones.

We played ukulele through the night and swigged cinnamon whiskey. I live the richest life, my friends. The richest life.