41

So.

This is what 41 looks like.



Not for everyone, but for me.

It's odd to think that I've now, as a friend pointed out, had two birthdays in Colorado.

And I've never been so glad to be in a place in my life.

Both geographically and spiritually.

I feel like I'm in the best shape of my life.

Both physically and emotionally.

The celebrating started over a week ago, when my dad, who's always elk hunting on my birthday, took me to a jazz concert at Stargazers.

Heaven, that was.
Live music? Yes please.
It really doesn't matter what kind, but there is just something about jazz...

I heard from my brother a few minutes ago, and he and my dad both got an elk this year. That's birthday gift enough for me, although my brother was kind enough to send a card, too. With a penny in it. That was his way of responding to my request for him to "just send cash."

My mom's birthday was a few days ago, so my boys and I went and spent some time with her over the weekend.

My boys, of course, had surprises for me.
The best from the elder - a note in my lunch today (he made lunches last night) that said, "Have a good day!" It was a totally spontaneous act of love. The best kind.
And from the younger - a handmade "Big hug."



When I commented on its large size he responded, "Of course it's huge. It was a big project."

And then my friend Kim Myles, interior designer extraordinaire, posted a picture of my dresser on Facebook today. 

A few of my students brought me gifts today. A bouquet (um, the colors! Love!) and - oh happy day - an apple. Many of them were stunned when I told them my age. I don't know why...when I was their age 40 seemed ancient. One girl asked me what kind of lotion I used so she could go buy some. She's ten! Haha!

And of course there have been more phone calls and texts and Facebook messages than I think I can handle! My mom gave me some $ (an obscene amount, really) and even my favorite aunt stuck a $20 in the card she sent me, which I think is hilarious but just might be the reason she's my favorite aunt. *wink*

Last year on my birthday I had just arrived in Colorado.
Had just made tremendous changes in my life.
I went for a 6 mile hike, solo, because it was exactly what I wanted to do and there was no one to stop me. And I had a wonderful time.
This year, however, I'm feeling quite the opposite, so I'm celebrating with friends.
Next Saturday a slew of old friends, mostly from the "school" walk of life, will celebrate with me.
A high school English teacher.
A friend from 8th grade.
A girlfriend I grew up with (who I have a picture of at my 9th (or so) birthday party).
Two college roommates. We all went to school in Minnesota together. One is from CO but has been in Minnesota for the last 20ish years and moved back a few months ago; the other is from Minnesota but moved out here after college. She's spent the last 5 years in Brazil, and also just moved back a few months ago.
We won't do much. Just dinner and drinks. And hopefully more laughter than we'll know what to do with.

So the party will continue long after today.

I cannot end this post without letting the world know what the card said that my mom bought me. I love it.

"Even before she arrives, you want your daughter's world to be perfect.
You want her to be happy and surrounded by love.
You want her to be sure of herself, gentle but strong, with nothing to worry about.
But real life's not like that.
The years come and go, bringing her trials and triumphs, joys and sorrows.
And you still want her world to be perfect.
But you can see that she is sure of herself, surrounded by love, and gentle but strong.
And you can see that she is who she is
because life has challenged her to grow and become more amazing every year."

Thanks, Mom. It's true.



Life's a party. 

To Envy the Trees

I spent last Saturday in bed. For hours. I caught the worst bug ever but kept working and was paying for it by the weekend. I didn't sleep much, but I was too tired and unmotivated to do anything but lay there. However, something pleasant that happened a few days before was keeping me company, so it wasn't completely useless; rather more like a whole day in a bed of eider-down thoughts.



On Sunday, rested up and having sickness-induced cabin fever, I had to get out. The trees are turning so rapidly and soon all the color will be gone. It will fall from the trees like day-after holiday decorations and lay on the ground like a carpet slowly fading in the sun. I needed to get to it before that happened.



The colors of Autumn. Why do we drive to them and walk among them like this season will never happen again? It happens every year.



Because they are dying, perhaps? 

I don't think so.



They may be shedding, but they are not dying. Those trees are as alive as they ever were, though from all outward appearances, they are losing touch with us. It is only for a time. Sometimes the ushering in of the beauty of life necessitates an appearance of death first.



The trees are dropping the old, and wouldn't we all like to be able to do that so easily? Let our problems, and those character traits we want to see diminish to make more room for the favorable ones, flutter to the ground like last year's leaves so the new can spring forth unhindered.



They are preparing for hibernation. Except instead of wrapping themselves in a blanket of warmth, they throw off their covers and become vulnerable in the coldest of months. A display of fortitude to be coveted.

And let's be honest. Don't we sometimes wish we could hibernate for a few months? 



And are they not just a bit like we are, those leaves that flutter to the ground? Some a bit stubborn, perhaps?



There are millions of them...

 

Yet not one quite like another.

 

No, I think it is not to bid them farewell that we flock to them as birds flying south.

Perhaps we go because we envy them, without even knowing.

Contemplation

It has happened now twice
in the past month. And these run-ins seem to
have, in their plan for me, nothing concise.
Rather, I have been stunned into review
of what I want in life.

I’m not unfamiliar
with how contemplation works. It is a
large, empty room. Those who knock can be sure
of no certain answer, only delay.
Decision is a blur.

To think the answers will
come to me if I sit in silence long
enough is to forget that the standstill
is self-inflicted. Because all along
life is ours to fulfill.

The answer is not “out
there” in a nebulous realm waiting for
us to call for it. It is not without
but within, although often we ignore
its silent, subtle shout.

But now that I have seen
the path which has emerged in front of me
I must take it, though most is still unseen.
The bar has been raised so high I can’t see
it, but oh! how it gleams,

Enticing me upward.
So the climb to reach it has begun. No
longer content with just going forward
upward must also be the way...but no,
The direction preferred.

I know there will be tears.
Not just mine, though my eyesight will be blurred.
But I cannot let them distract like mirrors
because inaction doused in pretty words
Will only keep me here.

One Year

One year ago today I arrived in Colorado. 

One year ago today I started getting back to where I was supposed to be, in more ways than one. 

And in that year, here are just a few highlights.

I took a 4-day ice climbing trip to Ouray. 

I started outdoor rock climbing (after years of doing it indoors). I've climbed approximately 100 routes since February. I've climbed in Eldorado Canyon, Boulder Canyon, Clear Creak Canyon, a couple places near Estes Park, Cheyenne Canyon, the Garden of the Gods, Eleven Mile Canyon (still my favorite), Golden Gate State Park, Devil's Head, Turkey Rocks, and Shelf Road. I took a 5-day climbing trip around Colorado this past summer.

Three of my closest friends from Texas came to visit me. Stephanie and Janet in July. Chrissy left yesterday.

I got to see my BFF from high school this summer, for about 5 hours. Such a short amount of time, we didn't even take a picture. This one from a couple summers ago will have to do. 

Speaking of high school - I've reconnected with some other "old" friends...

I jumped out of an airplane...  

I've hiked about 150 miles. I recorded only 139 of those, but there have been hikes in and out of climbing places, so I'm estimating. 

Longest hike: 23 miles to the Bottomless Pit with Brent this past summer. 

(Tho this is at Pancake Rocks).

I just want to say, I've loved my first year back "home." 
But I also want to keep it real. I hear complaints occasionally that Facebook is a place where everyone puts on their best face, shows only what they want people to see.
I see it a little bit differently.
I spend a lot of time focusing on the good in my life, because I don't see the point in focusing on the bad. There has been plenty of that. I HATED my first two jobs here. Getting up every day was a mind-numbing, soul-draining chore. I missed the boys' first day of school this year because I had to work. Even now, I am rarely home to see them off to school. I had $6 in my bank account last time I got paid. I need to repair a bunch of stuff on my van.

See what I mean? But why dwell on that stuff? Although I know some people that do. In a one-week period this month I had two people pretty much unable to hold a conversation with me because they couldn't think of anything positive to say about their lives.

So I'll keep focusing on the positives, thankyouverymuch.
Just give me blue skies... 

Cracks

There are days when things seem to split wide open.
When I think I've dealt with certain emotions and then something happens to make me realize that, no, I've only dealt with one layer of that emotion. There are more underneath. I just didn't realize it until something happened that allowed me to peer deeper inside the crack.

That happened to me last week.
It was a week full of unexpected news,
upsetting circumstances,
learning again that nothing in this world is certain except change.

(That's not me, that's MJ).

And then there was the climbing on Saturday.
Crack climbing. New to me.
So completely different than any kind I've ever done before, there's no way to even compare them.

It started out with protection. Tape gloves. So you don't lose all the flesh on the back of your hand.

Then came learning how to slip my hand into a crack until it jammed, and using my hand as a piece of gear to pull myself up - while also trying to get both feet into the same crack, one above the other. It was thrilling and amazing and uncomfortable and intense all at the same time.

Sometimes I would reach into a crack and the fit was perfect. Other times the crack was too wide for my hand and there was no way to get a positive hold. Some of those times, by reaching far back, I would discover a hidden flake, the perfect place to pull from and propel myself just a little higher.

In the middle of the day, the third of five climbs...

It was the hardest climb we did. I couldn't stay in the crack. I kept falling off the rock. I slowly worked my way up because, well, that's how I am. (I don't think I've ever backed off something if Tim has already climbed it, now that I think about it). But as you can see in the picture above, when he told me to stop so he could take a picture, all I could do was put my head on my hand and kind of crumple. I was feeling exhausted and defeated. This summit had not come with the good feelings face climbing comes with. It took a lot out of me. It was not something I wanted a photographic memory of.

I did smile when I got to the top, but it was forced. 

What happened involuntarily was that my body started shaking and I actually cried. 

Cried! Because of a climb! Who does that?

I wasn't upset or scared. Simply drained of everything.

Everything but the tears and I guess they felt they needed to jump ship, too.

 

It wasn't the first time I'd cried this past week. It had been one of those weeks. 

For those who tell me how strong I am...not always. 

Not always. 

I went on to climb two more cracks after that (the two in the top picture in this post. The one MJ is on, which was my favorite, and the one to her left). 

Just like I kept climbing in other aspects of life. 

My body aches today, really aches. But it aches because I did something new. Got out of my comfort zone (really did), and came to appreciate a place I'd never been before. 

But all of life is like that, isn't it? It's all a place we've never been before. I think we get so comfortable at times, we forget that.

At the end of the day, I hadn't come to a conclusion about how I felt about this new kind of climbing. Two days later, I still haven't.

It was fun, but in a different way. It was uncomfortable, but how much of that was because it was so new to me?

It was seemingly impossible, but surprisingly not. 

Draining, but giving.

Lesson Learned: There are going to be times when life seems to be splitting from top to bottom and we can see no way to pull ourselves up. We may have to just jam our hands in and, using our own body weight, pull.
 It may also happen that if the crack is too wide, and you reach far back into one of those fissures, there will be something to cling to.
 You may have to feel for it, because you can't always see it.
And on occasion something beautiful may even grow from that crack.

♪Notes and Quotes

A surreal week for me. Trying to stay focused.

Monday:

Life is a rush into the unknown. You can duck down and hope nothing hits you, or stand as tall as you can, show it your teeth, and say, "Dish it up, Baby, and don't be stingy with the jalapenos.  ~Unknown

I do love me some jalapenos. 

And because that pretty much says it all, the song doesn't have to say anything.

Just sink into it, like I do, every time I listen.

Click here.  

Tuesday:

All men dream but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds wake in the day to find that it was vanity; but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act their dream with open eyes to make it possible. ~T.E. Laurence














About a year ago, for a few months, I listened to this song constantly. It was my reminder that I was not drowning, no matter how much I felt like I was. That if I would just lay back and relax, I would be fine. Then I put the song on the shelf. So high, in fact, that I forgot about it. I didn't need it any more. But ast month I pulled it down and blew the dust off. I've listened to it once a week or so since July. Not something I need anymore, because I'm holding myself up. But the occasional chair I pull up and sit down on. Just while I remember to breathe.

Wednesday:
We delight to praise what we enjoy because the praise not merely expresses but completes the enjoyment; it is its appointed consummation. It is not out of compliment that lovers keep on telling one another how beautiful they are; the delight is incomplete till it is expressed. ~C.S. Lewis


There isn't just one thing of beauty in my life, but many.  Colorado and my children top my list. I'm sure you've got yours.

Thursday:
My new girl crush. And this song says it all.

Sometimes things don't go exactly the way you thought they would. That's ok. I can be like nature.

Friday:

And as for the song, it's as true today as it will be in a month or as it was a year ago. From my favorite musical...

Thoreau Got It Wrong

“I have a room all to myself; it is nature.” 

I suppose Henry David Thoreau was waxing poetic when he wrote those words,

thinking he was capturing in them the essence of nature's indescribable meaning. 

I found a small amount of resonance in them when I first stumbled upon them. 

Not quite there, but not sure what was missing, I mulled over the axiom for weeks. 

Until a week ago, when I was granted a tour of the most awesome spectacle of nature I may have ever encountered. 

Our destination lay an hour to the north, on the other side of a late afternoon, sky-quaking thunderstorm.

We made it through, emerging unscathed on the opposite shore. 

It seethed at our escape and later returned, pouring out darkness and tempest in one large, seething rampage. 

Was it trying to contain us again? Frighten us with its fury? 

It was an unsuccessful attempt at capture. Instead, we marveled at its beauty and agreed, at the end, that nature had given us a show that was nothing short of magical.

Though I do not care to criticize or correct him,
to me the great transcendentalist missed the mark by being too narrow in his definition.
The word "room" does not carry the full emphasis for what I feel when surrounded by
the hills and mountains and animals and, yes, even maelstroms of the planet.
Nature is not my room.
It is my home.

That afternoon a double rainbow, two full arcs across the sky, were the canopy above my head.

Deep moss, thick and plush, the rug beneath my feet.

My satiation came from tart green apples, plucked from amply supplied branches,

while wild sage was spice, incense, and perfume.



Beautifully oddly stacked rocks, spray painted with neon green moss and pale blue lichen,

formed the walls around my ceiling-less manse.

Tossing their leaves before the approaching storm, the trees were a moving roof of green on glass.


The trails were my kaleidoscope hallway, changing views with every turn.








A diving waterfall, a flowing creek, swirling pools, a light sprinkle - all provide whatever kind of bath desired.





The whole estate was lit by a stunning, life-size, sky-to-ground light show.
My yard, which seemed to encompass the whole world then, teemed with wildlife.
Baby deer, spots still visible beneath a summer-changing coat, nibbled on the grass.
Birds sang before taking shelter.
Snakes tried to warm themselves in the hallway (how dare they?).
A bobcat scampered across the driveway,
which, by the way, passes through quaint towns, rolling vistas, and back roads.

Find it if you can, 
The nature home I explored that day.
It's colors are always changing, yet I don't have to paint.
There's always a place to sit or sleep and dream, yet I've bought not a piece of furniture.
Full of natural light, eco-friendly, and completely sustainable,
This is where I choose to live.
What some would call my real home is actually where my "stuff" resides.
For me it is simply a place to cook and sleep.
The place where I prefer to live and dream with my eyes open is out there.

Nowhere in particular.

Just out there.