Montana

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There is little that quite commandeers my heart like a Montana skyline at sunrise.  In the waxing light over the expansive horizon I imagine all range of possibilities – of log cabins, cold rushing rivers, and a life that I have long yearned for.  In a Montana sunrise, it seems all the secret whispers of my heart are possible.

There has always existed in me this love of Montana.  Wyoming and Colorado too, have an arresting ability to encapsulate my dreams and hold them steadfast in a single moment as the sun rests delicately on the horizon.  But, Montana is the real keeper of my vision.

The harsh land, softened by the hazy light of evening, or morning,  holds before me the promise of life unburdened by trivial urban worries and constraints. I love Montana the way one loves a hazy memory of childhood, like a truism in my heart that knows not its origins.

Though I am not sure how to make life in Montana work, its romantic call to me doesn’t quiet with time or passing years.  Since I first laid my eyes on the windblown prairie, the solemn mountains, when I was 12 or 13, those images have burned in me.  Montana calls to me in a language I was never taught, but know instinctively.

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Road Trip!

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I know, I know.  The same question keeps hurling at me day after day: Do you even work?  

Well, no.  Not currently.  I’m sure I will again.  And honestly, I would love to.  I like to work. A lot.  But right now, my focus is on working on getting a few other things in life straightened out.  Like where in the sam hell we will put down roots, find a little home, and unpack our friggin’ suitcases that have been our too-long, too-much-crowded-and-disorganized-home for several months now.

So, starting tomorrow, Rick and I will embark on a road trip lasting several weeks to tour all the spots we might just want to plop ourselves indefinitely – a la the movie “Away We Go.”  The hope, of course, being that come the end of our trip we will have a bit of clarity around our lifestyle aspirations.

Most notably, the biggest concern (aside from employment – but related) is whether we want to go rural or urban.  We both tend to lean towards rural, but the kicker is that it’s hard to live in a rural environment and work a traditional job.  Not that we have to have traditional employment, but it has been our way so far and it’s treated us well.

Well, enough of the mucking about our motives and dreams.  On to the details.  This will be a tour of the West en masse – with the exception of California.  I don’t really see us there.  But there are some job possibilities there that I’m lukewarm about; I just don’t feel like driving there at this point.

A rough itinerary with the caveat that it may be entirely shuffled if interviews intervene:

Minneapolis – Jackson Hole – Helena – Bozeman – Missoula – Seattle – Portland – Boise – Salt Lake – Colorado Mountains – Denver – Milwaukee.

Yeah.  There are a few good spots in there (like all of ’em!).

We will be checking out what each city has to offer and comparing (spreadsheet in hand) the plusses and minuses of each.  The frontrunner has long been Seattle, however we have our eyes and hearts set on the idea of a more quaint existence, which means that Montana, Idaho, and the mountains in Colorado all are definitely in the running.  It’s going to be interesting.  But at the very least, if we don’t come away from the trip with a definitive answer, we will at least have had a pretty badass road trip (hopefully including some skiing, lots of running, some yoga studio testing, and a fair amount of eating…)

So there it is.  Should we be in your neck of the woods, please let us know.  We have horribly out of date contact information for most of our friends.  And we like friends, and local knowledge of places, and food recommendations, and home-baked pie and apple cider, and beer… just saying.

 

Bon voyage!

 

Honeymoon Part II – The Grand Canyon

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I have to admit it’s a bit funny to still be writing about my honeymoon.  I can’t keep up with myself.  In the last 10 days I have been in 8 states, on the road, traveling by foot, train, plane and anything in between.  My honeymoon was weeks ago, but I still haven’t written about the BEST part of it – our trip to the Grand Canyon.

After two years in Australia with Aussies constantly asking us questions about the U.S. like, “Are you afraid you’re going to get shot all the time?”, and referencing our general fatness, it was hard not to get a little bit of a chip on our American shoulders.  We decided to make our honeymoon a bit of a tour of discovery (mostly for me) of America’s proud landscapes.  Obviously the Grand Canyon was the first thing on the list!

So, the Grand Canyon!  We drove there early in the morning from a weird little town in Southern Utah called Kanab.   Kanab was apparently a mecca for making old western movies back in the day.  Now it appears to host a number of tourists running the gamut between Zion and Grand Canyon – and little else, with the exception of two subpar steakhouses.

We left Kanab, and drove for about two hours before we stopped for breakfast at a charming little diner called the Lees Ferry Lodge, on the edge of the Vermillion Cliffs National Monument.  We sat waiting for our breakfast with another couple and before long we got to chatting about why we were there.  Turns out they were celebrating their 50th anniversary, and there we were about 10 days into our marriage.  They shared a few words of wisdom with us before we went on our way.  It was a special moment, alone in a desert diner, sharing a common love of wild places and the people with whom we explore them.

When we made it to the south rim, we still had much to do before we could embark on our trip.  First we stopped at the visitors center to check out some information, then on to the backcountry office to grab our permits to camp at Bright Angel campground in the canyon’s bottom (secured four months in advance!), then back to our car to gather our backpacks, change our clothes, and then on to a shuttle bus to the South Kaibab trailhead.

The South Kaibab trail is the newer and more rugged tail to the bottom of the Grand Canyon. It’s a bit exposed, and a little gravelly, which makes it a bit hard on the legs for 7 miles of downhill.  I was worried we wouldn’t make it down until dark so we practically ran down,  making it in about two and a half hours with lots of daylight left.  (Note:  There is a severe overabundance of caution from rangers at the Grand Canyon to the extent that their advice is barely even applicable to young, fit, ambitious hikers and should be taken with a large grain of salt.  Had we listened to them, we never should have left the rim! )

I really wasn’t sure what to expect from the hike.  I was actually underwhelmed by the view from the south rim.  It’s too difficult to really understand the canyon’s depth and expansiveness from there, where nothing can be put into perspective.  But, thankfully as one hikes down into the canyon, the depth, color, and topography begin to expose themselves.

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The canyon is absolutely breathtaking, and it becomes more so the deeper one ventures in.  By the time we were within view of the suspension bridge across the river, I was smitten – both with the place and with Rick for bringing me to it.  We made our way down, through the dark, narrow tunnel of rock, and out on to the bridge.  It was an incredible journey.  To stand above the powerful Colorado, watching it course below us, and look up at the fading light in the canyon was pure magic.  I was so entranced by the colors, the warmth, and the welcoming air of this little oasis amidst the starkness of the desert.  It’s incredible.

We wasted no time trotting into Bright Angel campground and setting up a camp next to Bright Angel Creek.  For the next two nights it kept a constant bubbling soundtrack to our adventure.  The noise of water, the sound of deer grazing, and the lushness of the area surrounding this confluence of the Bright Angel Creek (named because it was one of the few sources of palatable water in the canyon) and the Colorado, gave the place a romantic, peaceful aura.  We loved it.

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The next day we hiked twelve miles round trip to Ribbon Falls, a side canyon on the way up to the North Rim.  The hike is beautiful and culminates in a falls that come cascading over the canyon rim above, splattering onto a green, algae covered dome of rock that has been hollowed out by erosion over time.  Though it was cold, I couldn’t resist tearing off most of my clothes and going for a dip, which included ducking into the rock cave behind the falls and exploring.  Nearly hypothermic afterwards, I laid out on the sun-baked rocks until Rick almost lost it worrying about me getting sunburned.  So, off we went.

We decided midway down that a steak dinner sounded preferable to our meal of quinoa, so we swung by Phantom Ranch on our way down, and asked to join the guests for dinner.  Apparently it can be difficult to get a reservation, but when it’s your honeymoon things fall into place a bit more easily. 🙂

We made ourselves comfortable and put away several beers, justifying our growing buzz by telling ourselves the mules that carried down the beer would appreciate our efforts to lighten their load. Then we had a great steak, went to a late evening ranger talk, and toddled off to snuggle up in bed and listen to the creek gurgling beside us.

Bright and early the next morning, Rick and I headed out and up the Bright Angel trail.  This route is the more traditional way down the canyon, originally used by the Havasupai tribe, and then later used as the standard route until the South Kaibab was constructed.  It is a steady climb of about 10% grade for 10 miles.  So, though we made it up relatively quickly, we were pretty tired when we reached the top several hours later.  By that time, we felt fully justified in craving pizza and beer.  We made our way to Flagstaff and found just that.

Flagstaff is an adorable and artsy little college town.  I’m not sure how it never made it on to my radar, but after our time there I would never pass up an opportunity to visit again.  Though we had originally planned to spend the night meditating in vortexes in Sedona, we were easily lured into staying in Flagstaff for the night and traipsing from one outdoor shop to the next with warm drinks in hand.  We decided to spend the night in an old hotel called the Weatherford.  Unbeknownst to us, it did double time as a VERY popular bar. By the time we were heading to bed (8 pm ) the bar was just getting going.  Our “European style” bathrooms were an amusing sight as I waited in line in my PJ’s to use the toilet, surrounded by girls dressed for a Friday night out.  But, even with the noise and the ridiculousness of sharing our hotel floor with a bar, we still had a great time.

The Grand Canyon and Flagstaff were the highlights of the trip to me.  It’s hard not to become reflective when the sandstone walls constantly remind you of your smallness and impermanence. There is something romantic about being in love and happy in the face of such confronting evidence of your own insignificance. With eternity echoing in the stillness all you can do is hold your lover, best friend, and life partner and savor the glory of being alive and vital in the wild, unblinking world.

Full of gratitude.  🙂

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Honeymoon Part 1 – Zion National Park (Angel’s Landing, Observation Point, and the Subway)

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Our honeymoon was so quintessentially American.  We planned it that way.  After two years traveling abroad, we felt it was time to do some of the great American trips for our glorious return.  This meant hitting up some of the wonders of the Southwest including Zion National Park and the Grand Canyon.

We spent 9 days in the Southwest.  We began our trip in Las Vegas.  And Vegas, to my mind, is equivalent to the first ring of hell.  It’s gaudy, and trashy, and gross.  I hate gambling, and worse than that I hate the depressing sight of other people gambling.  Everyone in Vegas appears to think their personal experience is the only thing that matters.  People walk into you.  People smoke inside.  People wear clothes that make me queasy.  In Vegas I decided that perhaps I don’t really like people, as a general whole.

The one highlight was seeing the Cirque du Soleil show, “O”, which incorporates an element of water – a giant pool!  That was amazing.  A few years ago while on a canyoneering course in Escalante, I met a diver for the show and as he described the responsibilities he had: diving through and around moving equipment, providing oxygen to performers while they are underwater, and orchestrating the show’s logistics from the depths. I was pretty interested in actually seeing the show. Thankfully, we did just that.  And, it was a true highlight.

As soon as we rented our car and began to head out of the city bound for St. George, Utah my stress levels diminished noticeably.  Poor Rick must have thought I had buyer’s remorse the first few days of our marriage.  I was so moody!  Part of that moodiness was coming down from the adrenaline rush of the wedding weekend, but it also derived from some complicated emotions that came up in the days just prior to the wedding.  I had been contacted by an old love, with a strange and heart wrenching letter.  It tore at me, and truly made me miss my someone who was one of my closest friends, who no longer is in my life for important reasons, but who nonetheless means a great deal to me.  I needed some mental space to take in the incident – and Vegas was not the place for that.

Luckily, we headed to Zion National Park after a night in the beautiful little town of St. George, where we stayed at the most adorable little historic B&B.  Once in Zion, we set up our campsite and began hiking.  The first day we did Angel’s Landing, which was amazing and terrifying for me since I am not a lover of heights.

Here’s a pretty good summary of why I was terrified:

A glimpse of why this was a scary hike
A glimpse of why this was a scary hike

We also did the Narrows, which is an incredible hike in a narrow slot canyon. Unfortunately, we hadn’t brought the appropriate gear to do it right by walking up the river the full distance.  We went a short distance into the river, and decided it would be best to turn back.

The next day we hiked to Observation Point, up from Weeping Rock through Echo Canyon.  It was a very scenic hike and also a good climb.  We ascended about 2000 feet up a series of switchbacks to the top of the canyon and then cruised for a while along the rim. Altogether the hike is about 8 miles.  Along the way there were some incredible views of slot canyons below us and wild sandstone striations.  When we reached the top of the canyon and walked out to the point we were greeted with the first snow we’d seen all season and a great view of Angel’s Landing from above as well as the winding Virgin River carving through the valley.  My decision to wear shorts was pretty questionable at that point, so we hurriedly finished our lunch before we dashed back to the bottom.  When we arrived back at the canyon bottom we felt that we still had some gas in our legs, so we headed to the Emerald Pools for a short hike of about 3 miles.  It was a pretty walk, but nothing compared the previous three hikes.  Though a small perk was that on the walk back along the Virgin River we startled several rutting bucks which made for some excitement.

Our final hike in Zion (and my favorite!) was a hike a bit more off the beaten path, which required a permit from the rangers.  It was a slot canyon called the Subway, which can be accessed many different ways.  We chose to hike up into it from the Left Fork, which is a less technical route –  a perfect fit for us as Rick hasn’t done previous canyoneering and in November the water is icy cold.  After descending about 400 feet into a boulder-strewn wash, we slowly made our way up the valley until the canyon narrowed and the river began to cascade over several falls.  We climbed the falls as the canyon walls rose around us and then turned a corner to see “the Subway” looming in front of us – a giant bulbous opening at the bottom of an otherwise narrow slot canyon.  We explored the pools formed within the subway itself and began to make our way into the more technical sections above.  This is unfortunately, where our hike ended as the cold water and air temperatures made it too risky to continue without more serious canyoneering gear.

The Subway was my favorite for a few reasons.  The hike in as we made our way up-valley was warm, sunny, and the turning cottonwood leaves brought beautiful splashes of autumn color to everything.  The terrain was diverse, ranging from loose scree, sun-baked sandstone, and black metamorphic rocks in the early part of the canyon, to fractured sandstone and sculpted slot canyons as we moved upriver.  Along the way we navigated technical hiking over icy rocks strewn across the drainage by countless flash floods.  It made for challenging and endlessly exciting hiking.  It brought me back to my childhood of exploring the ravines around my parent’s house – getting wet, climbing up and over logs and rocks, squeezing between boulders, and searching for the right foot placement each step of the way.  I was certainly never bored!

It felt good to get out and really hike for several days.  With my focus shifting to yoga over the past year, I haven’t worked my legs the way one does hiking in quite a while.  It felt good to have a pack on my hips, my big old boots on, and to pound out the waves of emotion that come with all that we have done over the last few weeks – from moving, and riding the adrenaline wave of the wedding, to coming down in the oddest of all places for that: Vegas.  Pounding out the miles with Rick, silently thinking, or passing commentary on the landscape around us or the book we read together really helped to forge a bond between us.  This kind of trip is what we love; moving our bodies, seeing new places, and immersing ourselves in the land.  It was such a joy to experience beautiful Zion with him.

Of course, Zion was just one part of the trip.  The best part, the Grand Canyon, will have to be discussed in another post!

Surreal life

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I’m sitting in bed, watching the sunrise over the mountains outside of Las Vegas.  I’m in the honeymoon suite at the Bellagio – a place which meant nothing to me until  saw the Hangover 3 on my plane ride back from Australia.  The whole thing is surreal for a few reasons.  First, I have never had any desire whatsoever to visit Las Vegas.  Two, I somehow ended up here on my honeymoon.

But, let’s back track a bit here.  It’s been a while since I last posted.  In the interim, I quit my job, moved home from Australia, hit the ground running planning the remainder of my wedding, was interrupted from my planning by an unexpected contact from an estranged person in my past just a few days before my wedding, and then proceeded to have all my friends – most of whom I hadn’t seen in two years or more come in to my hometown for a weekend of amazingess, I married my Rickster, and now here I am in Vegas, watching the sunrise and eating minibar snacks.

So, the wedding.  Let’s start with that.  This post may have to be divided into multiple entries.

From day one, Rick and I knew we wanted it to be our own – personal and reflective of our personalities.  But, as these things do, it began to take on a life of its own.  We originally wanted an outdoor summer wedding in Colorado but neither of us wanted to wait over a year to get married.  Then we considered a winter wedding in Colorado.  We looked high and low and found some amazing places, but after announcing our plans to family, I learned that my Grandma who had been undergoing lung cancer treatment, wouldn’t be able to come to Colorado.  So, we changed plans,  ramped up our wedding planning, pulled our date up a few months, and took the wedding to my hometown of Milwaukee.  She never made it to the wedding. We lost her in May, just a few months after she learned of our engagement.  Though I know she was there in spirit her absence was a hole that many of us felt.  But, perhaps our choice to bring it to Milwaukee was for the best because anyway because in planning from a world away one needs people on the ground and my parents were the engine that made this wedding happen.

The weekend was nuts.  I am not even going to rein in my enthusiasm for it.  Rick and I hadn’t seen many of our friends in the entirety of our time in Australia.  It was a reunion, and wedding, and a hell of a party all wrapped into one.  My bridesmaids started coming in a week before the wedding.  Katie, Jane, and Max, the Maids of Honor, were the first.  They arrived in town and from there the momentum just didn’t stop.  We finished projects, we went to yoga, we made a Photo Booth, we met with people from the club, we verified orders and gave orders (and apparently I even do it in my sleep).   It was so much fun.  By the time Thursday night hit, all my girls were in town, most of Rick’s guys were too, and we had our Stag and Hens nights.  We all met up in the end, but prior to that my Aunts, Mom, sisters, all of my bridesmaids, and many of my good friends took a Pedal Tavern around the city, had an amazing dinner at Benelux, and then we took a bus from bar to bar, finally meeting up with the boys at Wolski’s – which we closed, replete with stickers and assorted other “I closed Wolski’s” paraphernalia.  It was SO much fun.  I only wish we could have ridden the pedal tavern longer.  My Maids of Honor did a STELLAR job planning.

Friday we all were in need of some TLC.  We did our nails, sipped coffee and attempted to restore ourselves from lack of sleep and overindulgence.  I took my bridesmaids out to lunch and gave them some gifts as a thank you for helping take part in my wedding.  They, in return, gave me a fork to an old bike with a ribbon tied to it.  It was a symbol of the fund they are starting for me to buy a touring bike before Rick and I head on our antipodal adventures.  So, needless to say I was thrilled!

We met up for the rehearsal and rehearsal dinner, which included a brewery tour at Sprecher Brewery in Milwaukee.  It was a fun night.  We had Chipotle cater it – obviously Rick had his hand in that one.  But I have to agree that the food and beer were a great combination.  It was a perfect opportunity for some of our out-of-town guests and close friends to spend some more time with us.  And it was low-key and fun.  We then took a school bus to Trinity Irish Pub, where we met up with the wider group of guests getting into town for some drinks and more food.  I was taking it easy Friday, so I didn’t stay out late, but the party was a good one.  It was so much fun to see people after years of being gone.  I’m surprised I didn’t spend the whole time crying from the excitement of it.  I probably should have stayed out, because I came back to our hotel, laid in bed, and proceeded to sit there thinking about stuff – giddy and nervous – until about 2:30 when Rick made it home.  So, yeah, sleeping wasn’t a big part of my weekend.

Saturday was like clockwork. Sort of.  The girls all went to the salon and got our hair and make up done.  Which was hilarious because by that time we had two nights of going out under our belts, drama was festering – in a good way, and we were eager to recount the previous night’s shenanigans together, possibly over a bloody mary or two, while the lovely stylists did our hair.

We headed to the Women’s Club of Wisconsin, which is absolutely a beautiful spot within walking distance of all the hotels we had out guests in. I had never been to it prior to the wedding – though my mom celebrated her debutante party there and took dancing classes there as a child.  It’s got three floors, the uppermost of which is a ballroom – which we used for both our ceremony and reception.  It was a gorgeous spot for our ceremony.  We had some family friends do all of our decorations.  I helped them pick out some flowers I liked – seasonal, wild-looking flowers, with gourds and pumpkins and stuff.  They also made these amazing urns filled with curly willow, lit up with small lights.  I know it was a LOT of work for them, but they were so happy and gracious.  It was an amazing gift to Rick and me.  The room looked exactly as I imagined it would.  I couldn’t thank them enough for turning my dreams and pinterest stalkings into reality.

Our ceremony was like a dream.  My lovely bridesmaids all looked beautiful.  Three of them sang one of my favorite Wailin’ Jennys songs called “One Voice”.  Rick’s friend Manuel, read the Buddhist marriage blessing, Ryan sang Bob Dylan’s “To Make You Feel My Love”, and Justin did the whole ceremony.  It was perfectly us.  Perfectly light-hearted but meaningful.  Perfect.  Our vows were ours.  The ceremony was peppered with our own words that we had shared with Justin over email in the months leading up to the wedding. It was amazing and sweet.  We had a bagpiper walk us in, and then lead us out.  Bagpipers always make me cry.

After the ceremony, Rick and I followed the bagpiper straight outside, before anyone saw us leaving, and we headed down the road together with a couple of Spotted Cow beers.  We watched the sun set by ourselves out in the autumn dusk, before rejoining the wedding reception.  A police car passed us carrying our open containers – we laughed that it would be hilarious if we got a ticket on our wedding day.  But, he went on without incident.

And then the night unfolded.  There were drinks.  Many.  A band.  A good one!  Toasts. My dad actually killed his toast.  He brought out my stuffed bear from childhood.  It was amazing.  I think he is a better lawyer and public speaker than I’ve even given him credit for.  My sisters made beautiful toasts that made my eyes water, my lifey had a toast which almost made me pee in my pants it was so funny.  Gchat conversations from the beginning of dating Rick – references to him potentially being crazy because he runs ultramarathons – it was unreal.  I had to go back to my conversations to verify that indeed, I did say all the things she quoted me on.

And we danced and sang and when the Women’s Club kicked us out, we went for more at the County Clare where we all stayed.  It was so much fun.

I slept in my wedding dress.  There were too many buttons with tiny little hooks. After the night’s shenanigans, Rick and I couldn’t get it off.  I woke up at 6 in the morning and begged him to please “get me out of the thing!”  So romantic.  He got me out of it.

It was a fun, beautiful weekend.

The night before the wedding, gale force winds whipped up all over the city.  Out hotel room’s windows were shaking.  Winds were still whipping through the air during the early part of Saturday.  The same sort of winds rushed around my Grandma’s house the night she passed away.  They took down tree limbs and power lines.  The revisit of such gusts seemed to me to be a sign that she was in attendance for the weekend.  My mom, sisters, aunts, and I all wore pieces of her jewellery the night of the wedding.  She was entirely there.  I missed her that day, but I felt her and I know she was taking part in her own way.

I can’t write anymore.  Though, there is much more to be said.  Today we leave Vegas (thank god!) and head to Zion.  I cannot wait!   I want to have alone time in the desert with my husband and silence.  That’s all I want right now.  I cannot wait to camp in the cold and hike in the dry sun.

 

 

Beach life and love

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Moreton Island Sunset – the Wrecks in the distance

 Spring is arriving in Queensland.  It’s a beautiful thing.

Two weekends ago, Rick, me, and seven other friends packed up and went to Stradbroke Island for the weekend.  It was the first beach weekend following the winter.  It was absolutely gorgeous too.   There were prefect gentle breaking waves – Rick and I both got out for a surf and we got a few of our friends up and surfing for the first time.  We saw some dolphins while we were out on the water, we saw several whales, a few turtles, a few kangaroos.  It was magical.

It’s taken me some time to embrace beach culture.  And, when the sun is high in the sky, I maintain (as I told Rick early in our time here) that the sun is a “fiery, orb of death” and I will not venture out from my shade tent without protection.  But, I must admit the beach has worked a little bit of voodoo on me.  I really do enjoy it.  The salt and sun, and the feel of traversing wet sand with warm waves breaking at your feet, the breeze without a hint of chill – it’s magical.

North Stradbroke sunset

North Stradbroke sunset

Perhaps I’m savoring it now more than ever with the realization that this may be the last of my beach days.  Though job prospects in California may pull me in that direction, I’m just not sure it’s what I (or we) want.  So, I’m soaking it all in – literally.  Forgetting to protect myself from tan lines, swimming in the waves,  immersing myself in the sand and salt.  This lifestyle is one I never would have asked for, but I have grown to love it.  It is so gentle and peaceful.  It’s slow.  It’s relaxing.  It brings me to a state of of tranquility that I don’t often find for myself.

I’ve always identified with deep woods, with rivers, with sunsets on piney-shored lakes.  I’ve learned to expand my horizons to mountains.  But I never anticipated I would become a lover of the beach.  Maybe a cold beach or a rugged shoreline.  But not a hot, sun-soaked beach.  Australia, you’ve changed me.

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Turquoise Straddie waters

Laying in the shaded rocks at the edge of the sand last weekend, watching families and dogs play in the surf, pulling beers from our esky (that’s a cooler for the folks at home) after a surf, it finally hit me that this has become something I love. I love strapping our surfboards (MY surfboard – my very own longboard) to our car, and treking to some point

Starfish

Moreton Island starfish

break where we can ride some gentle breakers in relative peace.  I love the beach trips we take to Noosa, to Byron, to Coff’s Harbour, or hell even to Manly (in a few weeks) or Bali.  These are places I’d never anticipated loving the way I now do.  I’m so glad that this door was opened for me, that the beach stole my heart.

 

Each day (of our last) here in Australia I feel pangs for the life we’re leaving.  I haven’t loved every moment here, true.  But this is a life that I know I will look back on fondly, and I am so glad that I’ve awakened a passion for this beach life in myself.  I know that Rick and I will always have a stronger drive to make our way to beautiful oceanscapes going forward, but they probably will never have a the hold on my heart that Australian beaches will.

 

 

Moreton Island

Moreton Island Sunset

 

Roaring Twenties revisit

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I’m so sore.  From about the bottom of my rib cage to the top of my quads, I feel wrecked.  Absolutely demolished. Hip openers tend to be a bit rough, but this was a whole new level of “ouch.”  Perhaps, it’s the fact that finally, after nearly a year of consistent yoga practice, I’m actually able to lay claim to having pretty open hips.  This weekend’s hip openers, however, may have introduced me to the next threshold in opening those suckers up, and in doing so they unleashed my inner tyrant.

I’ll back up and introduce this a bit.  I have been challenging myself to a personal 30 day challenge with yoga through September- so I’m practicing EVERY day for 30 days.  It’s not THAT far from my norm, but it’s the days when you really don’t have the motivation and HAVE to do it anyway that make the 30-day challenge worth pursuing – so pursue I will! I did the same thing this time last year, and it was a great way to energize and ramp up into spring!  So, about a week into it, feeling good and really happy,  I signed up for a hip and lower chakra workshop with Duncan Peak, the founder of Power Living Yoga, based in Sydney, to challenge myself a bit more and learn more about the chakras (spoiler alert: that last part didn’t happen).

If I’m going to be honest (and I am) I was perhaps a bit motivated to sign up by his poster:

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He’s not the worst person to fixate on for three hours on a Saturday. In fact, I will do extremely long holds of low lunges at his bidding.  I will sit in double pigeon for many minutes.  I will work my lower back and glutes until I can barely walk.  Yes, Duncan, I will.  What’s next?  I am an eager pupil.

But, in all seriousness, despite my recognition that he is well-respected in the yoga community, I definitely prejudged him a bit.  I do that sometimes, with very good-looking men.  I assume they lack substance.  But, as is often the case, I was wrong.  The man has an extensive knowledge of the kinesiology and anatomy that makes or breaks many poses for people.  And he explained it clearly, and with humour!  So, despite the raging ache in my hips and back all day today and the feeling that I might actually or metaphorically tear Rick’s head off if he said the wrong thing (hip-openers arouse latent rage inside me…) I think it was one of the best workshops I’ve been too!  It makes me more excited than I have been in a long time to continue with my teacher training!

I have to admit that in riding the wave of rage/emotion that comes with deep hip openers I found myself wondering at the level of junk we store in our bodies.  It felt to me like over the last few years, my yoga work unpacked emotional stuff relating to my last major relationship – some sad emotions.  But, that had really plateaued as of several months ago.  I was feeling a bit stagnant in my practice.  Breakthroughs were happening with less regularity.

Yesterday’s hip openers, however, took me on a new and different adventure, farther back, possibly into more deeply buried gunk.  I spent the whole day today feeling like I did all through college and in the years immediately following: constrained; wanting to break free; generally annoyed with the requirements of life;  rebellious; hormonal.  There was no apparent cause for this in my life today, so after some reflection I attributed it to the previous day’s hip openers and I decided that rather than risk blowing up at Rick without cause, I’d go take a long walk in the West End. As I was walking with my headphones on I noticed a group of guys at a restaurant kind of looking over at me and smiling.  Now, I have not spent a lot of time on my own in the last few years, and I certainly haven’t been hit on much by other guys – so I have to admit I was kinda digging being the object of their desire for a moment.  It occurred to me that I had better appreciate the moment with my wedding coming up in less than two months, and I flipped the stone of my engagement ring around my finger as I walked, considering the symbol on my hand with a mixture of excitement and trepidation.  What happens if one day I want to be free?  Will I always love Rick as I do today?

Now, I know that I want to marry Rick.  I have no doubt about that. Since meeting him I have had a sense that he was the one for me.  But, it was interesting recalling that the feelings I felt today were reminiscent of much of my life throughout my twenties.  It’s like my hip opening session uncovered a deeper store of pent up emotions from a formative period in my life – my freedom-seeking, angst-ridden, flirtatious, ridiculous twenties.  Ah, how fun they were, and how glad we all are that they’ve passed away into oblivion, only to be recalled in oblique references by my friends in wedding speeches and more obvious references whenever my sisters feel like reminding me of what a colossal pain-in-the-ass I can be.  I fear their reemergence, particularly now.

Perhaps I’m misallocating the cause of my angst.  It could be a biproduct of my overall uncertainty over the course of my life as of about two months from now.  Or it could be a hangover from the book I just finished – The Fault in Our Stars, by John Green.  (If you want to spend several hours crying, reliving the major loves and losses in your life, and reflecting on your general smallness in the larger picture, it’s a great book!  Have plenty of rehydrating fluids handy though.)

All I can say is, something happened to me over the last week (or yesterday) and I got really grouchy today.  I revisited a rebellious, moody, angsty Kat that I haven’t embodied in several years.  There were some moments it was a bit amusing, but mostly as I tried to observe the emotions that were coming out I felt grateful to be in a different, more stable, more happy place in my life.  As I often do, I reflected on that person I was then, back in my mid-twenties.  I recognized how passionately I resisted being pinned to one version of myself, one path forward, or one single person as a partner.  Hell, it was my twenties and that’s exactly what they’re for, but in hindsight I realize that I was a bit of a wrecking ball at times.

I guess I’m glad to be where I am, and I am now definitely a bit reluctant to delve too deeply into the meat of my hips in the near future.  🙂

Australian Post Script – Weekend #2

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It’s a bit odd living in a post script.  And, what I mean when I say I live in a post script is that  the greater part of our Australian adventure has concluded.  We have packed up our home, moved in to a friend’s extra bedroom, and we’re living out the next six weeks of our time here from the comfort of a futon and extremely disorganized suitcases.  But, like the juiciest information in a letter is often shared in the postscript, so too does our postscript contain some real treasure.

Last weekend Rick and I went to Cooroy to bid a final farewell to our friends Heidi and Joe and bask in the aura of their dream lifestyle.  They recently made the choice to follow their passions and left Brisbane to buy an amazing, self-sustaining property in the hills outside Noosa.  They opened a yoga studio, mediation centre, and ayurvedic clinic where they work together, alongside their new puppy Shakti.  They are getting married in October, just two weekends before Rick and me – so it’s fun to compare notes.  Our weddings will be quite different I think!  They fed us mulled wine, lemon butter, and sourdough bread until we could eat no more, and sent us on our way with half the citrus in their orchard.  It was such a beautiful weekend; a huge bonfire, great conversation, puppy snuggles, a great yoga practice (while Rick surfed), and some time to enjoy each other’s company.  I couldn’t have come up with a better way to spend one of our precious postscript weekends.

Well, there is one way that might be better – or at least comparably good.  And, that’s what we have planned for this weekend.  Tomorrow, I have a three-hour spa session that my mom got me as a 30th birthday present.  I had been saving until it no longer made sense to save it – NOW!  So, I am taking off Friday, going for a luxurious morning at the spa, and then spending the remainder of the weekend (and Monday!) in the company of some lovely friends on Stradbroke Island where we have plans to whale watch, cook, and generally having a blast!  I went whale watching several years ago in Alaska, but whales have long been one of my favorite creatures and I’m thrilled to have the opportunity to do it again.

It feels good to be in this postscript mental space I am right now.  We are (thankfully) mentally present for these last weeks in Australia because we have most of our wedding details sorted out – at least for the time being.  So many friends and family have stepped to the plate to sing, conduct our ceremony, coordinate various wedding details, throw showers, give tours of Milwaukee sights, and generally help out.  I always knew I wanted my wedding to be a  community affair, but little did I know how much I’d actually NEED it to be.  I have been amazed at the enthusiasm and dedication of my friends and family, particularly my amazing parents who are helping with so much of the planning AND doing a throwback to their wedding and literally wearing what they got married in over 30 years ago (which actually is perfect considering we’re using almost the same colors and my dad wore a nice coat and my mom wore a beautiful women’s suit and not an actual wedding dress.)

I love the way things are shaping up for both the wedding and the time on either side of it.  I have had several talks with Heidi (above) about how in pursuing one’s dreams and their dharma the path opens up before them with each step; for Heidi that was moving to the hills with Joe and living off the land. For me it was everything that has come to be with Rick and me.  From our fortuitous meeting while I was still in another relationship, to our subsequent meetings after, to our courtship, our move to Australia, the dramas that came with it that strengthened our bond, our engagement, and to our decisions to move home and make massive career and lifestyle changes.  It feels as though each new opportunity presents itself when it should and when we have the means to make the best of it.

Last week I finished writing up the answers to some questions that were asked of us by the friend who is doing our wedding ceremony.  They were simple questions, but knowing he would take the answers and use them to help shape his words made me give strong consideration to my answers.    I recognized in my answers the lessons of several challenging years coming to roost as I emphasized our partnership, our shared joy in the successes and passions of the other person, our mutual desire to foster each other’s strengths and support their weaknesses, to truly face the world with a united front, and commit fully to our partnership through the obstacles and challenges we will unquestionably face.  It’s true that passion can be the spark of love, but it’s commitment that leads to the most meaningful intimacy.   And with Rick, commitment which always felt so hard to embrace for me, barely feels like a choice.  Rather, it reminds me of whitewater canoeing – you can ferry yourself, stressed and neurotic, around and above obstacles, constantly fighting a current which will take you to ruin on obstacles downstream.  But if you put yourself in the proper channel you can release yourself to the current with little fight or need to direct yourself and you can gracefully navigate the myriad challenges that surround you. My relationship with Rick feels like this.  It’s not a constant struggle to avoid ruin (even if the struggle was invigorating and exciting), it’s graceful and effortless – and it looks damn good.

I have always used rivers as metaphors in my relationships, and this is no exception. I feel so lucky to have Rick – my amazing fiance, friend, and co-pilot through rapids, and anything else we’re faced with.

Yeah, so in short postscript life ls pretty amazing. So good – life is just, plumb incredible.

Love and Time Travel

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There is a lot spinning around in my head on these subjects of late.  

The first and most obvious reason is my upcoming wedding planning, which has me living approximately 2 months ahead of myself at all times.  I have no idea what day it is after two weeks of vacation.  I can’t remember much about my life in Australia, because once I’m home it has a way of turning into a strange dream life that may or may not be rooted in reality.  I also have no idea what season it is because it’s almost the end of winter in Australia and almost the end of summer in Wisconsin, and really it all feels the same to me after two weeks at home.  I’m so confused in life right now. And excited.  And jet-lagged.  Let me tell you a secret about living in Australia – it’s the future there.  I took a brief vacation to the past for two weeks – in so many ways.  My body and mind are all still trying to adjust.

My second note on time travel and love is a brief commentary on the cosmic weirdness of the following:  my ex boyfriend of 7 years is getting married on the day that doesn’t exist in my life due to crossing the international date line while flying.  I leave on Friday, land on Sunday and somewhere in the la la land in between he will get married.  I really expected that this would have some sort of intense effect on me – his wedding, that is.  I think I anticipated this day, even when we were still together and in love.  There seemed to be something not in the cards about us, so I had expected that one day we might be apart. But, though I think part of me always anticipated that someday we would marry other people, I expected to be there.  I expected we would still be close.  Instead, I haven’t talked to him in nearly two years.  

Oddly, I’m not melancholy.  I don’t even know if I have feelings about the wedding.  I feel so far removed from his existence that I can’t even feel sad about it.  I feel nothing.  It’s perhaps a more troublesome feeling, honestly.  I feel guilty for my lack of feelings.  How can you share your life with someone for 7 years, having made plans for a future together; a wedding, kids, and everything that goes with it and then feel so little when they get married?  It’s odd.  I saw some good friends of his last weekend and we chatted a bit about the upcoming wedding.  Before they left I just told them to express my best wishes and give him a hug for me.  How strange.  The longest, most turbulent, and sweetly twisted love story in my life boiled down to a hug from afar and a meaningful time/space glitch wherein the day he commits to spend his life with someone else doesn’t exist for me.  

Life, you’re clever and funny.

Today I leave home for 7 more weeks in Australia.  It’s hard to leave.  Mentally I’m ready to come home and the next month and a half seems like a strange post-script to our life there – living on friend’s couches and trying to get in one more surf.

But, so it goes.  I’m off.

 

Home

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Home is a funny concept for me right now.

Rick and I just moved out of the little Queenslander we called home for almost two years.  It was stressful to move out and into a spare room in our friend’s apartment, but we knew it would allow us to live a more liberated existence in our last days in Australia.  I have to admit that it’s hard to say goodbye to a place like that, where we lived together for the first time and decided to share our lives together.  It housed us in a transformative period and will always be the spot where we laughed at our free pink couches while snuggling together for warmth in the cold Australian mornings, or where we bought our first surfboards, our first joint insurance policies, and our first washing machine.  For me, it will always be associated with the immense growth I experienced as I truly let go of my past relationship and let Rick in, and for him it was the place where he decided to try a different path in life.  Of course, it will also always be the home where the 4 am sunrises woke us up and the bird’s relentless squawk was a soundtrack to our lives; where the spiders were the size of your hand and the possum invasions seemed constantly imminent.  It was an adventure, and we’ll definitely miss our little home.

But, now home is an evolving thing.  I say this as I sit on my parent’s couch in their great room, listening to Lake Michigan and the breeze through the trees.  The summer lushness, the smells of dirt and lake, and the fecundity of the ravines that surround me are home and probably always will be.  I missed these things down there, where the eucalypts dominate the nasal palate and the soil smells of foreignness.

Last night, my aunts threw a couple’s shower for Rick and me.  His parents flew in and all the faces and spirits that shaped my childhood showed up for a cocktail, a hug, and a chance to express their good wishes.  I can’t imagine feeling more loved than after a night like that.   I barely saw Rick – hell I barely even ate – all I did was soak in the exuberance of a gorgeous Midwestern summer’s evening, a bonfire, and the love of a community that has been there with me from before I could remember.  And when I’d catch his eye across the crowd, up to his neck in my relatives and family friends, I’d see the man that I will be spending the rest of my life with, looking strong, confident, engaged, and sexy as he recalled the names and histories of my convoluted family and charmed them as he has charmed me since the beginning.  I am so proud to be with him and excited for our future.

Being immersed in the community that made my home as I grew up, and sharing it with the man who will be my home going forward, I can’t help but think a lot about what home is to me.  For years I felt a bit unmoored, and it wasn’t until finding Rick and a sense of grounding that I realized it.  As we look forward to where we’ll go after we move home, I recognize, as I have slowly learned over the last two years, that home is your community plus your environment.  I’ve lived in some beautiful places and I’ve lived among friends, but without both there will always be something missing. Rick and I are weighing our options – whether to be city dwellers or do what we both are inclined to do and move off into the country somewhere.  Surrounded, as I was last night, I recall that people make a huge difference and that wherever we end up, we better have some people around us who we love.

The jetlag is gaining a hold on my brain and the flow of my words is beginning to gel up.  I better get to sleep.  Goodnight friends.  We can’t wait to make our home amongst you.