resisting much needed fallowness.

the garage heater is humming downstairs, working desperately hard to heat up the cold garage. (we are trying to dry out the carpet that got wet from the melted snow dragged in by buddy's giant tires.) otherwise, it's completely silent from where i sit. i'm upstairs in our new temporary home, on the L-shaped deep purple couch, my legs crossed and extended. the windows overlook the madison valley, and the peaks of the mountains are still hidden by the cold cloud cover from morning. it's half past 3pm already, and i'm still in my pajamas, blanket wrapped around my shoulders. i've only been up for five hours since i stayed up past 1am to watch the season premiere of downton abbey. ; ) 

since january 3rd, i haven't known what time it's been when my eyes first open. i just wake up when i wake up these days. sometimes the bright sun light will beckon me to rise. sometimes (like today), it's dark and cloudy and sleeping until 10:30am doesn't bother me like it used to when i'd "sleep in" until 9am. 

my husband went into town to run a few errands: make copies of keys (which we hardly use), go to the local meat shop, sign up for a gym, and return library dvd's and donate a book i finally finished (ender's shadow, in the slim chance you were wondering). mostly though, i think he was excited to just roam around our new one block town and have some alone time. me too (about the alone time). i've been wanting to be quiet and think...

why am i painting this scene?

well, because i'm reflecting on fallowness today while simultaneously sitting in a large L-shaped couch of discomfort. the discomfort that comes with not feeling like i'm being a productive member of society.

this morning's quote from inward/outward triggered the externalization of my deeper internal jumble:

There is a fallow time for the spirit when the soil is barren…. Face it! Then resolutely dig out dead roots, clear the ground, … work out new designs by dreaming daring dreams and great and creative planning. The time is not wasted. The time of fallowness is a time of rest and restoration, of filling up and replenishing. It is the moment when the meaning of all things can be searched out, tracked down, and made to yield the secret of living. Thank God for the fallow time! 

Howard Thurman

2014 is a sabbatical year for me and my husband. we've moved to ennis to S-L--O---W D---O--W-N and let the dirt settle in our lives, our minds, and most importantly, our hearts. and as much as i know and believe that this is the best decision for us right now, i keep wanting to kick the dirt around; to unsettle the soul because some part of me can't seem to stand still. i need to keep doingdoingdoing and searching for external achievements. it make sense: i have an ego (ha!) and i've been flowing down a fast river for some time now. it's not easy to just bring that much energy to an abrupt halt and to accept myself just as i am, not for what i accomplish.

but i feel the mountains that surround me are calling out to me to settle down, to calm my mind, and to accept (and love) just being. i came here to create a huge wide open space to allow what needs to emerge, emerge. and i predict that the mountains are what will call out "great and creative planning" and "daring dreams" for this life ahead. but first, i need to stop playing with the dirt and let my fallow time be fallow.

it's now a quarter past 4pm. the mountain peaks have finally emerged. i too shall wait (hopefully patiently) for the clouds to clear...

what rocks tell us.

at joshua tree national park, i met this guy. 
he doesn't seem very satisfied with life. 

johua tree | following the light

after tedactive, i spent a couple days in joshua tree to decompress from an exhausting/energizing week. i went from spending 24/5 with 800 people to the solitude of the desert. it was the perfect way to bookend such a powerful week of inspiration, ideas, paradigm shifts and relational progress. i went from listening to people talk (and talking myself) to spending most of my time quietly being and listening to the presence of the desert.

the ted conference teaches me that humans have a tremendous capacity to discover and articulate the mysteries of and "solutions" for this world. it's blown my mind at times. but, in its silence, the wilderness articulates this world's truths by simply being itself. it's been preparing its "18-minute talk" since the beginning of time and has always been open source for anyone who wants to listen. the wilderness invites me to be with, not needing to be anyone else but me. i don't have to show it my resume or list my accolades or tell her who i know. she invites me to show up simply as i am. it's there i remember that i am beloved in all the world, to the Creator of it all.



perhaps that's why i love being in the wilderness so much.

the elk came out to play.

mom and i went hiking in point reyes, the friday after thanksgiving. it's one of my favorite places to be, and i've written about it a number of times on this blog. i feel at home when i'm roaming in that space, as if it was created for me as a respite where i can go to just be. it's where i go away to get re-centered, focused, and relaxed.

naturally, i took my mom there since she loves to hike and she loves the ocean. she normally takes 10+ mile hikes in the mountains every weekend, so this was an easy 10 mile hike for her. we went to the famous tule elk trail that starts at pierce point ranch. it's 4.7 miles to the tip of tomales point, with very few inclines. easy.

funny thing is that, as many times as i've been out to that trail, i never knew it went all the way to the tip of the bay! i felt like i had gotten robbed when i realized that trail was actually 10 miles total. in fact, i told my mom the trail would be only 4 miles or so because that's all i had ever done. to my delightful surprise, we hiked all 10 miles, ate mom-made kimbap at the end and then tailed it back in time to indulge in some fresh oysters on our way home.

 

 

peace.

this picture reminds me of the peace i felt on the early morning walk along a narrow path, following a trickling creek.

havasupai | dreaming

as we hiked deeper and deeper down havasu creek, her glory intensified. at first, it felt like a dream, but after spending all those hours together, it was clear that what i was looking at was as real as life gets.

the word "exquisite" keeps cycling around my head when thinking about my recent backpacking trip in havasupai. i have a lot to share, including a post dedicated to the campground's composting toilet! ; ) 

quote | listen

A starting point for hearing God's invitation to action is learning to listen with the ear of our heart as Benedict instructs. Words from the media, colleagues, and our mailboxes bombard us; an endless number of billboards assaults us along our highways. Sometimes we pay attention to what is spoken from the pulpit, but often our worship services are so busy and full of words that they have little effect. We need to give some time simply to being in the presence of the created universe with no other purpose than to attend to what is there. Listening to the voice of nature will help us attune ourselves to the words of God spoken in silence to the deep places of our being.
-Elizabeth Canham

portrait of a tree | larry

my shadow connects me to the one more lonely than i.

muir woods | a rainbow, a hike, & dragon's breath

up & down the dipsea
we roamed...
 

 

ashland | hyatt lake sunset

completely enthralled by ashland, oregon. i am so utterly taken by this weekend's trip because of stuff like this:

lovers.

i stared at unabashed lovers on a mid-morning hike.

two different trees forming so natural a connection. 

taking slow dance to a different realm of comprehension;

they count in decades, not in steps.

swirling at each other's branches

leaning in and out

bending by the month.

i wonder if they resonate with this poem by ee cummings.

high sierra trail | day 6 | crabtree meadow to guitar lake

today's mileage: 2.7 miles


we woke up when we woke up, ate a slow breakfast, lounged around, and then finally made our way to guitar lake. it was our recovery day before mount whitney, but i didn't feel recovered. the tiredness just sank in, and i realized today that the final day would be really really hard. 


this pic was inside my tent when i went back in for a mid-morning lounge around. (someone eerily watched from outside.)  o_O

about a mile in, i met scott & alisa (dad/daughter hikers) and we chatted for a lengthy period of time. it was lovely to meet new folks and to have an extended conversation. plus, when i offered alisa my what-i-now-considered-repulsive trail mix, she practically inhaled them. lol. it's amazing how other people's food looked SO much yummier then my own. she clearly concurred. ;-)

 

a few memorable moments from the lake:

• getting to know scott & alisa over dinner. (they decided to camp with us that night and hike with us the next morning.)
• sun setting into the mountain range.
• dropping my camera on a rock --> cute boy from d.c. helped me get the jammed filter off the lens. hehe ;-)
• looking at disbelief at the mountain we were going to climb at 4am in just a few short hours.

high sierra trail | beginnings

there's so much to share...

montana | the sun before the set

the light lingered
until it became dark

race report | born to run ultramarathon 10-miler

it was the first ever born to run ultramarathon. i signed up because i inhaled the book last year, and because it was the inaugural race. plus, i didn't want to miss out on running alongside caballo blanco (even though i felt a bit too shy to say hello. i did manage to squeeze out a smile). 


we camped at the east creek ranch in los olivos on friday, and woke up at 4:45am to some borderline obnoxious/delightful hill billy music. we got ready in the darkness, was greeted by a human chicken, took a ridiculously funny oath (to the effect of, "...if i die, it's my fucking fault"), and took off.


it was a surprisingly easy 10 miles. 
stunning. 
quiet. 
peaceful. 
my heart was really really happy.


b/c of my current injury, my approach was to: stop when i need to (in case my plantar fasciitis flared up), take it easy, and simply enjoy running through this new space. no pressure. no care about time or pace. just space to be.


turns out, i finished the route and came in 1st female in my age range!


& for fun, here are my stats:
7th female
20/40 overall
1st female in 20-29 age group
total time of 1:41

*psst, there were only two of us in my category.


and of course, we camped and played along the way back home.

yosemite.

i feel acutely aware of my desire to be in nature when my soul feels parched.

i reached that point this past week. 

running on adrenaline, body exhausted, mind scattered, heart uncertain...

it was necessary to be surrounded by a multitude of trees and masses i can only stare at in awe, 

a place where words no longer work and efficiency is nil,

where nature makes its power known not by record-sized raging waterfalls, 

but by the gentle landing of a million particles of mist over my entirety. 

where time seems infinite in past, present, and future.

and i can be in all those spaces at once.

it is a healing place,

& one i'm grateful to share.

friday morning thots 4.22.11

this week has been believably unbelievable. 
i am so full & grateful.


now i need some of this. 

all around me...

...i see new life.

i snuck outside between the torrents of rain this weekend.

and all i could see was new life everywhere. the garden is simply stunning right now. if you are local or in town for a visit, please come by. it won't take your breath away...it might breathe life into you.

what a delicate reach!

cherry blossoms.

i can't wait to sink my teeth into a sun ripened apricot this summer. they're unbelievably tasty & meaty.

the fuyu persimmon tree seems like it's made it's home.

coming in for an asparakiss.

the plum trees are prolific.

o, just lookin.