Humboldt Green

Phil and I quit our jobs in August, cut loose, and hit the road - indefinitely. The plan was to go for as long as we could and then see what happened. Without much forethought as to where we might end up, we broke down in the notorious Humboldt County, therefore marking the final stop on our epic road trip.

In a place renowned for its green, we had a hard time establishing ourselves as more than just transients brought to Humboldt for the harvest. I've mentioned before that we had to get creative, but I never imagined that we would struggle quite as much as we did. After Thanksgiving, Phil landed a part-time job at a local coffee shop, a fancy little place that makes incredible coffee, pastries, bread, and desserts. Lucky for us, Phil gets to bring home all of these delicious treats at the end of each day. However, I'm a little ashamed to admit how much chocolate cake sustained us over the last month!

Phil seems to have found his ideal job, but I, on the other hand, have struggled to find the same for me. As a self-proclaimed Craigslist troller, I have spent the last few months refreshing, refreshing, and further refreshing the job posting web pages in hopes of discovering a job listing that diversifies from "becoming a surrogate mother" or some generic internet rep. It has been more than a little trying, because on top of my attention paid to Craigslist, I have asked friends and acquaintances about prospective jobs, eyeballed shop windows for "help wanted" signs, opened local papers, patrolled Monster.com and numerous other job sites, looked for volunteer opportunities, and researched local non-profits - I got creative. Finally, a little over a week ago, I saw an ad for job at a local outdoors store and I dropped off my resume that day. When they called me to schedule an interview, I literally jumped for joy, made sounds that were part wild animal/part 16-year-old girl, and felt a gigantic wave of relief. My interview lasted ten minutes and by the time I had walked the two blocks home, I received a call offering me the job. It was a Christmas miracle.

Marking the last day of...adventure, Phil and I spent today drinking mimosas and sitting in the fleeting afternoon sunshine. I officially start working tomorrow, though the past four months - since my last 9 to 5 - have been anything but a vacation.

It has been an incredible experience getting to where we are now and though we are still anywhere from being stable, we are finding our footing. I know I said that this is the last day of "adventure", but that couldn't be any further from the truth. If I have learned anything since the time we left Santa Fe, it is that this world is magical and refuses to conform to plans. Phil and I are incredibly thankful to be here in Humboldt, but even more thankful to be making the kind of green you can take to the bank! Here's to Humboldt, a job, and a new set of adventures.

Christmas: I Lost Sight of What Was Important

Potted Christmas tree - an idea I'm actually really into...

Christmas Eve: Phil and I are outside of the bank. We had wanted to deposit his paycheck, so we could buy delicious things to eat on Christmas day. But, the bank is closed and no deposit is made. When we return home, I see that my mom has made a financial contribution to my bank account for Christmas. Still determined to make our Christmas plans a reality, I put the paycheck issue behind us, and we set off to the grocery store to get our supplies.

At the check-out counter, I enter the wrong pin. (Guess it's been awhile since I last used my New Mexico bank card...) Flustered, I try a different pin - in a packed store - with everyone waiting. It's not correct. We abandon the groceries, promising to return. We walk the four blocks back to the house and check the account. I was using the wrong card! We go to the ATM; I withdraw cash; we return to the grocery store; we wait in line again; our groceries are successfully purchased.

Because we are far away from home during the holidays this year, the only thing I was counting on was being able to fix a special meal with Phil. During a time when the most important things are tradition or some semblance of festivities, I had a plan to bake and cook; I wanted to make the day a little magical. Phil brushed off the elaborate shopping trip as soon as we hit resistance, making corny comments about us and love and things too gushy to repeat. I, on the other hand, felt disappointment - which transformed into agitation, stress, and frustration.

I had lost sight of what was important. Phil told me that the reason the cashier had been short with us was because many people go to the grocery store on Christmas Eve, can't pay for their groceries, back up lines trying every payment method available, and then leave (promising to return), but without the money or the intention to make it back for the perishable items left sitting at the register. When things began to be stressful, I asked myself if I could be happy even if we ended up abandoning "Christmas food". It's true that we could have just returned home and put together ingredients - that we already had - for a different, still delicious meal. And, yes, I could have been okay with that, but I didn't want to have to be. I had gotten so tied up in an idea of what I needed for Christmas, but in actual fact, all I needed was what I already have: a roof over my head; love in my heart.

We didn't have a big Christmas filled with stacks of presents and family pouring in from around the country, but we had a really wonderful day together. We baked family-recipe-cookies, made crab cakes for breakfast, and cooked a bubbling, aromatic pot of cioppino, an Italian seafood soup - filled to the brim with crab, fish, and shrimp. It really was incredible. We were so thankful that we were able to have the meal that we had planned on, but it wasn't what really mattered. What matters is that I have someone who lends me strength, is my support through hard times, kisses my face when I worry, and makes me feel loved and happy, no matter the day. I am grateful for what I have and I was reminded of how lavish that truly is. I hope everyone, regardless of location or financial standing, had a holiday filled with love and happiness. Merry Christmas.

Trolls Versus Travelers

This week Phil and I attended a holiday party hosted by Phil's employer. Doesn't that sound so formal? It certainly felt like the most sophisticated gathering we have been a part of in a long time as we have been rank with the smell of campfire and, for awhile now, considered "dressing up" as changing out of flannel.

The night felt holiday party appropriate as there was a bite to the air, though no hint of snow in the California town. Feelings of anticipation quickened our stride down quiet streets; hands clasped and seeing our breath in front of us, we were eager to arrive at the festive gathering. As we approached the community center, the rhythm and energy of an Americana band serenaded employees and their guests into the hall. The room swirled with the smell of spices, warm bread, and merriment. At the drink table, donning holiday colors and intriguing beverages, stout paper cups of beer were poured and wine bottles uncorked, motivating folks to relax and enjoy the evening together - even if at a work sponsored event.

Phil had been making jokes all day about trying not to get too weird at the holiday party - to avoid any situation where, the following day, making eye contact with co-workers would be awkward. (Apparently things had been a little less than sober the year before, due to the mixing of strong margaritas.) The table we found ourselves joining seemed to be heedful of that possibility, so, taking it easy, they sparked civil conversation with modest voices.

However, one topic, that instigated a great level of discussion, pertained to the large transient population of Humboldt County. As newcomers to the region, seeing so many people sleeping in vans and cars, under bridges, and in the forest, for us, was shocking. I mean, we were doing the same thing, so it was a nice surprise to find a community where that was okay. But, it was shocking to see how many people there were.

Upon seeing the amount of people choosing alternative accommodations, I decided that I had underestimated the harvest. Harvest time in Humboldt means green - it doesn't take rocket science to put it together. However, it turns out that harvest time or not, Arcata is transient-people friendly, therefore making the presence of "traveler types" a part of everyday life for residents.  People in Humboldt have different opinions about these folks, as you can imagine, and as was expressed to us at the holiday party.

I get it. I know how easy it is write people off - to think, "in some places, pan-handling can make you more than 20k a year", or "why don't they just get a job?" It is easy to label people as bums, deadbeats, hobos or some other term used to categorize people with a "certain look". It's harder to consider what connects you to those people. It is more uncomfortable to recognize the small scope of decisions or choices that separate your life from those you see on the street.

It was funny to be sitting at a dinner party discussing homelessness, when at the end of October, Phil and I faced the possibility of abandoning the car and the prospect of selling the possessions we couldn't carry. We have heard people say that when they first met us, we looked different. That's true! We were sleeping in our car. We were stressed out and hadn't showered in awhile. We were transients.

"But, you are different," they say after hearing us joke about what we were doing.
"Yeah, we were traveling."
Another friend offered the distinction: "Those people are trolls."

Trolls versus travelers. Where do you draw the line? Does the distinction come from those attracting attention or asking for money versus those who keep to themselves? Is it because some people are looking for work and some people are looking for handouts? Is it due to people being in the same spot each day hoping for more versus moving from location to location chasing opportunity? Is it a mindset? Is it your background? Is it your future?

Not too long ago we were uncertain as to where we were going to sleep each night. In fact, that happened each night for about a month. We got to know how dire our situation was and how close we were getting to being more transient than traveler. We experienced the feeling of being watched in grocery stores. I remember being informed that bathrooms were for "customers only" and I had I insisted that I was a customer...or planned to buy something at least. We knew as we put on more layers of clothing and waited for closing time that we looked homeless. We were homeless. I felt that line blur and I believe that it doesn't take much.

Some are travelers. Some are trolls. Some people are here for the harvest. Some people don't have anywhere else to go. Some people choose this. Some people have a myriad of choices made for them. I know that in a town that is transient-people friendly, the harassment felt when entering a grocery store can be exhausting and the shouts of downtrodden people on the square can feel like noise pollution, but when Phil and I came to Humboldt County, we couldn't believe our luck ending up in this place.

As we enjoyed our holiday feast and sipped on beverages, joking about the moral imperative to drain both kegs with Phil's co-workers, I recognized the gallimaufry of choices that landed us at that table. I also felt the weight of our past that could have resulted in a vastly different reality. Perhaps the issue isn't so much about trolls versus travelers as it is connection - humanity instead of distance and isolation. After a wonderful evening shared with new friends, warm with holiday spirits and residual laughter, we put on more layers of clothing, and headed...home.

Connect The Dots Last

We wandered, we WWOOFed, and we ended up in Arcata. Now, 1,414 miles away from Santa Fe, NM, we are beginning to wonder what is next.

Phil and I embarked on the journey with the dream of traveling...just traveling. Setting off, our grandiose scheme looked like a connect the dots image and involved exploration of South America. So, when we ended up closer to Canada than Chile, I was a little uncertain. I hadn't anticipated really moving anywhere until "Bessie", the name of Phil's car (a '95 Nissan SX), broke down yet again, thus warranting a third visit to the mechanic in a month. With financial stress and coastal fog looming over us as we walked aimlessly around the picturesque community of Arcata - waiting for Bessie's diagnosis - we decided that we had better not push it and that Arcata might not be the worst place to be stuck.

Luckily, there are wonderful people here and a mindset that we share. This makes it easier to stay in Arcata, but doesn't change the fact that we had grown accustomed to being the vibrant travelers who were wandering, aimless, and so flexible that we just had to point to a map to find the next stop. Now, finding the "next stop" is more metaphorical than physical and is unfolding differently for the two of us.

Phil is on his game. He loves the fact that he's in Humboldt County, is applying to Humboldt State University (due to this mutually shared passion to be angsty and write about it), and finds the outdoor community and liberal thinkers a refreshing change of pace. It is exciting to see him finding his way and even more wonderful that he found a job at a fancy-pants-cafe where he can wield barista skills until his heart's content.

I'm a little different; I never anticipated moving to northern California. I saw myself stopping through to see "what's good" before globe trotting in some foreign place - certainly not paying rent and looking for a job. Yet, I really like Arcata; it reminds me of Flagstaff in a lot of ways, a place where I spent four amazing years during college. In fact, I reread a poem I wrote about Flagstaff and the feelings inspired seemed so applicable to Arcata. That should be a comfort, shouldn't it? If I have found a place similar to a place I once loved, shouldn't I be happy? Instead, I am restless. I have a concern that I have done this step already. I worry that there isn't anything here that can help me grow and that this isn't the place where I will find my passion.

As I trolled Craigslist, looking for potential work/job opportunities, I felt the frustration of the process and the restlessness of my spirit growing. Then, I realized that I was getting down on myself unnecessarily. Didn't I just write a post about having to be creative in new settings? In fact, Phil and I made it all the way out here and found our footing only when we started investigating different ways to make ends meet. It was critical that we got creative. What we found was that sometimes the answer isn't straightforward, but looks more like a connection that develops as an inroad, or an opportunity that comes from an alternative pursuit. The two of us learned to be creative when fixing Bessie left us without the funds necessary to put down a deposit and move into a place, finding that without the ingredients for A + B = C, we needed a new recipe. And, that's where I am again.

I thought that I could just be an aimless traveller, out exploring without any of the "hard stuff", but interestingly enough, I am being challenged in an new way. I am now trying to find something that I can be passionate about and inspired by, even if it doesn't have a familiar shape. Though our original plan involved points in South America, perhaps the new dots (made possible only by being in Arcata) will create a more beautiful or interesting image than I ever could have imagined. Too often we try to be so rigid with our outline, that we forget about the opportunity to color.

We may have ended up here due to Bessie, but perhaps it is a blessing. Though stuck, I'm still wandering. Though traditionally about dots and lines, I'm picking up colors and metaphorically searching for my next stop. Connect the dots last.

We Were Ostracized On a Farm

For people with romantic notions of working alongside farmers, the organization, Worldwide Opportunities on Organic Farms or Willing Workers on Organic Farms (both effectively consolidated to the more widely recognizable acronym: WWOOF), allows that dream to be actualized. Phil and I had talked to friends who had participated in the farming network and had raved about their experiences all over the world. In fact, a friend quite literally did rave in South America when her WWOOFing experience landed her in a cooperative living space in need of laborers for a transcendental music event. Right on!

Though most WWOOFers (the folks seeking volunteer opportunities) must rely on e-mail correspondence with a prospective farm, we were already in Arcata and had the chance to meet with our host face-to-face. As we heard about the location, history with WWOOFers, emphasis on education, and the hope of involving the community with their subsistence farming initiatives, we were totally enthused. The farm had great reviews and the farmer, who was to host us, seemed very likable and laid back. However, a few days later when we arrived at the farm, the demeanor had completely changed and we began to wonder what WWOOFing was really like. 

Week one: enter farm host part deux. Let's call our host's partner/other half/wife, Fake-Smile-Foodie. Fake-Smile-Foodie is one of those new age moms who loves the fact that around her there is a farm with animals and vegetables that she can eat and feel like she is self-sustaining/better than everyone else who doesn't do that. Fake-Smile-Foodie made it very clear, through condescending and snappy communication with the two of us, that we were "the help". There was no warm and fuzzy Couchsurfing.org feeling of "what's mine is yours". It was very much like, "Over there is your space...outdoor toilet, hose to use as a shower, and teepee...and this is ours. We will text message you if we need anything." They spoke about us, in front of us, as though we weren't there and then forced us to sit ringside for marital passive aggressive conversations. As it can be inferred, it was bristly and awkward, but despite the tension, we brushed it off, presuming that the family had had a hard time with previous WWOOFers. 

That was week one. Though uncertain about the situation we had walked into, we were thankful to have accommodation for the month. So, we decided we would stick it out and just keep being our positive, hard working selves.

Week two: the energy shifted. To our pleasant surprise, we didn't have to interact with Fake-Smile-Foodie who was off being a good new age hippie and attending Amma's visit to San Francisco*; instead, we were spoken to in a more cordial way, praised for all of our hard work, and even encouraged to stay for the whole season or longer. 

Week three: the grandmother explains the steps for feeding the animals and then leaves the farm. The farmer, who works in Arcata, is faced with a gigantic work obligation and leaves the farm as well. All the kids are with their other parents (due to the business of divorces and new marriages)...also not on the farm. Fake-Smile-Foodie may have still been with Amma or may not have ever gone, either way, she's also not on the farm. Who is left on the farm? Phil and I...and a whole mess of animals.

Week four: Phil and I are still the only ones on the farm. 

Despite being abandoned at the homestead, we did continue to get text messages from the farmer, giving us daily tasks and maintaining communication, but we didn't know where anyone else really was or when they would be coming back. Happy with the solace, however, we did everything on our own schedule: lounging around every morning, cooking elaborate meals (Phil makes incredible Eggs Benedict), working leisurely (yet productively) for five hours, and then ending the day by building a fire in the teepee, playing cards, reading, and enjoying the beautiful location we were in. We even hosted another WWOOFer! Hah!

Salmon Cake Eggs Benedict. With hollandaise sauce. Amazing.

With the farmer stuck at a desk in Arcata, the duty of picking up weekly groceries fell on Fake-Smile-Foodie who, though stopping back at the farm periodically, neglected to complete the task. Finally, after "spending time with friends" and a week and a half late with food, Fake-Smile-Foodie returned with three out of seven of our necessary groceries (I do not include a partially consumed carton of milk as a full grocery item.), and some requests of her own: Phil and I were to clean, organize, and set up for a party she was hosting on Thanksgiving. What's more, Fake-Smile-Foodie requested that we not have fires in the teepee for the next two nights since she really needed firewood for the sweat lodge at the party. 

Frustration bubbled. We took our loaf of bread, carton of eggs, peanut butter, and almost empty milk jug back to our modest kitchen space, still lacking in dish soap and compensation. Recognizing that the sunset comes with the promise of freezing temperatures, we headed to the river to collect our own firewood to heat our canvass house, and to discuss our plans for leaving. 

It was such a bummer being a "hippie slave" and we couldn't understand why our experience had been so isolating and unwelcoming. The following day, as we packed our belongings, feeling cheated, I began looking through their guestbook, curious to read about the experiences of previous WWOOFers. To my surprise, the book was filled with incredible stories of collective family meals, collaborative work efforts, inclusive trips, and activities that made travelers feel as if they were part of the family. However, the family we had joined was not the family being addressed. The family we were hosted by was family part deux - an almost completely different set up, with new family members (Fake-Smile-Foodie), beliefs, and ideals for the homestead. At one time, it seems that the farm operated with collective involvement and really was a place where people were taken in like family; people had incredible experiences there and stayed for months. Unfortunately, the situation we entered was disjointed and unsupportive. 

The farmer came back from town, after almost two weeks, looking disheveled and exhausted. Though we tried to sympathize with his situation (running a subsistence farm, working to develop educational programs in the community, being employed as a "fish doctor", and balancing being a family man), it was an awkward reunion. We were ostracized on a farm! We had learned a fair amount about plants and animal husbandry, but we spent the majority of time by ourselves, therefore altering the "educational foundation" of the experience. We learned more about supporting each other than what makes optimal soil conditions; love and communication instead of pruning strategies. In a family without collective support, Phil and I filled the gap. We were the ones planting the cover crop before the rain and picking vegetables before they rotted in the garden, but we were the only ones. With the farmer juggling various commitments, including a time sensitive agricultural lifestyle, without our help during this last month, well, I don't know what they would have done - perhaps they would have had to support each other. 

I struggled to write this post, because it was such a conflicting experience. Though beautiful, the farm was neglected; though inspiring, equally discouraging. Phil and I had respect for the farmer and were motivated by his vision for the land, but were met with curt, ungracious treatment from the whole family. Though we observed good and honest values stemming from a seemingly like-minded ideology, we interacted with very difficult people (made evident by my unkind introduction of "Fake-Smile-Foodie"). I struggled with the post, because I want to be angry, but compassionate; empathetic, but self-respecting. There was definitely a lot going on beneath the surface and we just happened to be caught in the middle of it. Perhaps, we were the outlet. Driving through the mountain valley, away from the farm we had called home for a month, feeling saddened by their situation, we were hopeful that they might find a method to navigate the chaos of their lives and restore the experience that was once a reality. Maybe they will find a way to evolve their new family dynamics into something that is beneficial for the farm and WWOOFers alike. Phil and I still believe that WWOOFing is an incredible opportunity for people to get a unique introduction to organic farming, but for our first time WWOOFing, Phil quipped that the acronym more correctly stands for the time when "We Were Ostracized On a Farm". We arrived with almost no preconceptions, eager to learn the requirements of subsistence agriculture, yet, the lessons we walked away from the experience with had less to do with plants and more to do with people. We may not have had the farming experience that we planned on (South American rave, please?), but we did learn something. None of it is possible without support. 



*Amma is widely known guru, often referred to as the "Hugging Saint".

Must Love Couples

Three weeks of WWOOFing in Hoopa, California, and we are almost done with our first work exchange. We have planted cover crops, pulled out countless tomato plants, fixed irrigation lines, chopped heaps of firewood (Good work, Phil!), shelled beans, taken care of horses, operated tillers and weed-whackers, shoveled manure, picked an assortment of fruit, been introduced to freshly hatched baby turkeys, and truly investigated the meaning of subsistence farming on the ground level. After having the opportunity to live out here, working five hours a day, five days a week, we feel ready to take our new farming knowledge with us as we head out into the world once more - a world with work available and homes a plenty! The problem is that while the farmer loved that we were a couple, because we were a team he could assign to any project on the farm, in the house hunting world, people don't necessarily love couples.  

Searching through pages of Craigslist posts, I've read ad after ad outlining a wonderful living arrangement, only to discover at the bottom of the post the most deflating words: No Couples. Due to this barrier in house hunting success, I have been including a disclaimer in my e-mail replies: I know we are a couple and that makes people wary, but we have lived at 2 previous residences together and in a tent for the last few months, which, I think, truly demonstrates our harmony!

Have we found people out there who can think about couples without cringing? Yes, but it has been a challenge. It feels like we are lumped into the same category as cats and dogs. No cats, dogs, or couples - bah! So, I keep trolling Craigslist, while cursing 18 year olds and romantic comedies for plaguing society with relationship drama, bickering, baby talk, awkward PDA, breathy whispering, antisocial nights in, and just overall "couple behavior" that sabotages a living situation, leaving it dysfunctional and anti-fun.   

Phil and I are excited to be moving into Arcata, but we leave the farm at the end of the week, so we don't have a lot of time to find our next home. We do have friends to fall back on, but after a month with our teepee and a sense of stability, packing up and hitting that uncertain road again, without everything lined up, still feels a little unsettling. The way I see it though, is we have new skills, contacts, and references from our time farming and that already puts us in a better situation than we were in a month ago. We might not know where we are going, but we are creating new possibilities with every step. Perhaps in the house hunting world, people don't necessarily love couples, but maybe they will love us when they meet us. I return to Craigslist, feeling a little more hopeful that they will. 

Lessons in Creativity

Striking out with a modest amount of money, a combination of savings, our garage sale cash, and family contributions, this trip was destined to be interesting. We honestly had no idea what we were looking for when we left Santa Fe, but we hoped for free camping, awesome climbing, and jobs to spring out of the ground at the point when we ran out of money. This was an interesting plan. We quickly learned that free camping in California is hella* difficult to come by; climbing locations aren't always close to civilization, internet, or these elusive jobs, but that actually, we aren't interested in having traditional jobs anyway. 

Breaking down in Ojai changed that. Breaking down in Arcata solidified it. Traditional jobs or not, we were going to have to find some form of income, or we were going to have to begin parting with belongings. Still not wanting jobs and really not being in a position to get a job (stable place to stay), we changed our outlook and enthusiastically began exploring our other options. We met people. We asked for and accepted help. We stayed with complete strangers. We made friends. We responded to an interesting Craigslist post, which resulted in us climbing a 100 foot tree to fix a solar panel, and we got paid for it. We took invitations seriously and ended up at rocking parties. We painted buildings, fixed roofs, and kept our fingers crossed...a lot. We found ways to keep going and all it took was a little creativity.

At our first couch surfing spot, our outgoing and opinionated host continuously questioned our inspiration. How could we just sell everything and go, just like that? How could we leave without heaps of savings or a set direction? How could anyone walk away from a stable job with benefits? The truth is, it is never about "how". Anyone who has ever asked us how we could be doing what we are doing always answers this themselves somewhere in the following conversation. They start recounting stories of their own adventures or the interesting people they have met who were doing something like us. They have an idea about what you have to do logistically: you just go. Instead, the question is really about "why" and those reasons also seem to reveal themselves once we begin discussing ancient temples, beautiful beaches, staggering mountain ranges, delicious food made of exotic spices, and a sense of lawlessness and possibility only felt out on the road. Anyone who has traveled knows the feeling and I believe you can find it here in America with our prolific rock formations, desert sunsets, glaciers streams, old growth forests, riotous music festivals, San Francisco bread bowls, and New Mexican green chile. (I'm biased about the chile.) Phil and I did do the traditional job route and we worked really hard for the time we were in Santa Fe. Much of that time Phil was working two jobs and he was a zombie. We didn't have weekends off or if we did, we didn't have weekends off together. Actually, either of us having two days off in a row was a luxury. We lived in a beautiful place, but we felt stuck in the grind, and we had ideas of something else. So, we left. We sold everything, we gave away more, and we packed up what was essential into a backpack each. The rest of the car we filled with camping and climbing stuff, and we took off. 

We've had talks with people who think we are nuts, who swear by savings, and who know that one day they will be happy that they were rational and stuck to a track with a 401k. I don't doubt that they will be happy and I don't criticize that course, but it isn't what we want. As we come to the end of our time on the farm, we are still waiting for these jobs to reveal themselves or push through the earth with the winter vegetables, but perhaps we would hoe them out of the ground if we saw them. We left everything in Santa Fe for a reason and it wasn't to find a new place to get a job; it wasn't even for a two day weekend. We left in search of possibility and it has been a challenge, free camping aside. Yet, our enthusiastic pursuit of different options prevails. Fingers crossed, we will find ways to keep going - all it takes is a little creativity. 

*hella: A "multi-purpose word"invented in northernCalifornia. (Urban Dictionary) Scholars maintain that the translation was lost hundreds of years ago. 

WWOOFing, Writing, and Water Currents

Preparing myself to write, I throw a split piece of fir on the fire, and sit close to the wood burning stove that heats my current accommodation. I chose the word "accommodation", because where I'm living isn't a room or a traditional house, but a teepee, constructed of canvas and wood, and sitting amongst the trees on a subsistence farm in Humboldt County, California. With an extension chord running from the main house to our humble abode, I sit down with my lap top, looking around at what I consider my most permanent residence since leaving Santa Fe, two and half months ago.

My writing this year has been sporadic. I blame the inconsistent internet access; I blame being in the middle of nowhere and camping. No, I realize I am truly culpable. I was unmotivated and I did wonder for a moment if the blog belonged to Thailand, if it was the end of that chapter when I left. And, it did, in a way. It was the end of a chapter, but in many ways it was just the beginning. It wasn't as though I didn't have anything to write about in Santa Fe, but I didn't see the experiences I was having in the same light that I saw those from Thailand. Thailand was like an incubator. It was a nurturing time of self discovery and, undoubtedly a mind expanding exercise, exposing me to alternative ways of thinking and living. However, leaving everything in Santa Fe, NM, driving a grand total of 6,000 miles with my boyfriend, Phil, and finding myself an hour outside of Arcata, CA, I'm realizing that, while much has changed, I am still building on the lessons I started in Asia. I am on the same path. It's as though a current runs through my life and while sometimes I am unsure of the direction I am heading, I know a river is never lost and I continue to find my way. So, I return to the blog, with plans of consistency in writing and beginning with WWOOFing in Hoopa, California.

It was after three visits to the mechanic between L.A. and Humboldt County, that any more extensive road tripping finally became out of the question. Fortunately, this whole area seems to be a place where we can see ourselves spending a lot of time. We began to explore the opportunities in and around Arcata and we ended up in the mountain community of Hoopa. The Hoopa are a Native American tribe in northern California, situated on the Trinity River, and about fifty miles inland from the Pacific. It was here that Phil and I found ourselves amongst voluptuous hillsides, watching the low hanging fog roll up from the coast to be later punctured by afternoon sunshine. We came to this beautiful location after getting involved with Worldwide Opportunities for Organic Farmers (WWOOF), an organization that helps to facilitate work exchanges between organic farms and volunteers by allowing volunteers to make profiles, search for prospective farms, and then connect with the farmers to coordinate exchanging room and board for work on the farm. We were running out of money, after being on the road for two months, but we also had wanted to take advantage of an opportunity to more seriously discover the meaning of organic farming, so we signed up. Now officially "WWOOFers", we are volunteering five hours a day, five days a week in exchange for the lovely teepee space and a stocked kitchen. The owner of the farm splits his time between working on the farm and a job in Arcata, where he claims to be a "fish doctor". Though he says this smiling, with a doctorate in ecology and an uphill battle in protecting salmon ecosystems in Hoopa, he really is. On top of his commitment to fish doctoring, he is working with a friend to cultivate an acre of land where they can provide organic food for the community and educate the people about agriculture as a way to change the health and wealth of the tribe. They see the future of the valley resting on the benefits of subsistence farming, a lifestyle and process that inspires Phil and I, so it seems to be a good match.

I was never running tillers and seeders in Thailand, or Santa Fe for that matter, but tromping around in work boots, hands deep in soil, and looking out over blackberry bushes to the Trinity River seems to fit. This is our introduction to farming in Humboldt County and we are harvesting tomatoes, beans, and squash instead of ganja. Who would have imagined? When it comes to what's next, we have started to consider a permanent residence in the town of Arcata, as four walls and a roof might be nice after three months of alternative living and sleeping choices. However, we ultimately haven't a clue what shape that will take. And, it's okay. Despite the lack of regular internet, nights spent in the car, and the overall uncertainty of our course, we have been finding peace in our process. Though sometimes appearing disjointed and unclear, I am starting to see the continuities between past experiences and my journey, finding beauty in not knowing. So, I tend to the fire, turn my ear to the sounds of the night, and submit to the flow of the current to show me the way.

Twenty Miles and Stopped

Twenty miles from Ojai, California and the car has stopped. Not stopped like it needs a few moments to cool some jets, someone to bang on various pieces of metal under the hood, or a jump to get going again, stopped like it intends to stay that way. Phil and I, parked on the off ramp, switch the hazard lights on and punch in numbers on cell phones trying to call AAA to remove us from this precarious situation.

We have been on the road for two weeks. Two weeks of zig-zagging across what feels like half of the United States, in search of adventure, climbing, work, and, well, all of the above. It has been a colossal trip, starting in Santa Fe, NM and cruising east to Arkansas, where we saw Phil's family and took advantage of Horseshoe Canyon's seemingly endless climbs, then cutting back across the states to California. We stopped in Albuquerque to see my family and rest from 13 hours of driving, made it to Flagstaff, AZ, to thrift it up at their incredible Goodwill, drink 25 cent alcoholic beverages at the Green Room, and see some familiar faces. Leaving Flagstaff, we made an unplanned detour down to San Diego, where we reunited with one of my old college roommates, ate sushi like only a coastal city can provide, went bead shopping down at the Black Bead in Ocean Beach, and took on L.A. traffic to make it, now just 20 miles from our friend's house in Ojai, our intended destination.

Luckily, Phil upgraded to premium AAA service before our departure, because we are quickly becoming their most frequent customer. Phil, ah umm, locked the keys in the car before we left San Diego. Sorry, Phil, I had to share. We joked as we stopped in to see one of Phil's friends in Oceanside that we had to check that we had the keys every time we exited the car. "'Cause you can't call AAA twice in one day!" Turns out, you can.

AAA showed up in less than thirty minutes later to the place where we felt doomed to make our new home, the exit ramp off of the 101. Climbing into the cab of the truck while the driver loaded the beaten down car onto the back, the two of us were shaking our heads. "It has been some adventure," we thought. With only the money in our pockets and a car with a lot of "character", we packed up the last of our belongings in Santa Fe and hit the road. Without too much direction, just grandiose schemes, we set out to see what would happen. Through it all, we have been absolutely taken care of. Seeing Phil's family was trip. My first time in Arkansas was spent eating homemade egg rolls, driving through lush, green pastures, and navigating Hmong, Portuguese, and southern accents as I got to know his eclectic family. It was wonderful. Camping in Horseshoe Canyon was laid back and the staff was so friendly that it inflated our already lifted spirits as we returned to the Southwest and made our way across the desert to the coast. Everywhere we stayed, with family and then with friends in Flagstaff and San Diego, we were reminded of what good people we have around us.

Loud exhaust sounds and flashing lights announced our arrival as we climbed out of a pick-up truck in Ojai, California. It wasn't what we had planned, but that's the thing, we don't have a plan. We left Santa Fe seeking adventure and we have received no less than that. Though the car has stopped and now rests in the hands of a local mechanic, we remain hopeful that we will be taken care of, at least for a few more miles.

Family Time

For me, "family" has always been a word with evolving meanings. As a child, my mom seemed to be continuously preaching about the importance of family, stressing that my parents would never get divorced - they would always be together - because they were family. We were a family, and family was everything. I remember my mother reiterating to my sister and I that friends would come and go, but family was family, no matter what.

When my parents kicked me out of the house at seventeen, I began to feel as though "family" wasn't really what they said, and that the only person I could count on was myself. In college, holidays were reserved for obligatory family time and watching everyone gather with their parents made me feel as though something was missing. Over time, I began to develop a better relationship with my parents - which proved easier when we lived in different states. 

My sister and I found ourselves residing in the same city in 2008. Though we had always been close to each other growing up, being out on our own taught me tremendous lessons about what family meant and how important she was to me. I realized that, though I had previously thought I could only count on "me", I could actually count on her too. We solidified an unbreakable bond.

Then, in the fall of 2010, my parents separated and it rocked the foundation of my world. It turned out "family" wasn't forever, it wasn't permanent, and sometimes, it was another word for those who were the most hurtful people around you. Angry and resentful due to what felt like a final betrayal, I ran away to Thailand where family couldn't surround me with drama and darkness. I swore off family and focused on sunsets.

In Thailand, I found that "family" wasn't your mom and dad. As an expat, no one had cousins or grandparents to spend holidays with - it was like we were all orphans. On our little island, family was what you created. Family was comprised of Thais, English teachers, and the expat friends who gathered for celebrations, holidays, and for nightly "family dinners". This collection of folks became as tight nit and meaningful to me as anyone who I shared a name with. I grew to depend on that makeshift family, those who made Thailand home for me, and my heart swelled with love for each member of my new family. 

Leaving Asia was scary. Returning to America, I was afraid of dealing with...well, anything family related, but I had spent enough time on an island to get my wits about me and practice my brave face. So, when I came back to America for the final showdown of my parents divorce and my dad's addiction, though unprepared for the magnitude of hurt that everyone in my little family was feeling, I did my best to take on the battles and weather the storm. 

Through the course of that journey, I felt estranged from my family. It wasn't that anyone had left me, made me feel abandoned, or turned their back on me, however, I didn't know how I fit into the equation when I had reentered a world where people chose sides. Unsure of what level of emotional stress I could tolerate from my parents, let alone the rest of my kin, I chose isolation. It did make me feel lonely when I looked around and wondered who I had in my life besides myself and my sister, but I had sworn off family and this seemed to be my decided fate. Lonely. Family-less. So be it. I was struggling - struggling to feel love and failing to see the connection I had with people who had known me my whole life. From what I had learned, love wasn't guaranteed. It had to be earned. It had to be proved. It had to be deserved. Not knowing what everyone knew or what they felt about me and my steps taken to find solace in a tumultuous situation, I avoided, or rather, failed to prioritize confronting these unanswered questions in a cowardice attempt at self preservation. 

Last night, I went to a family reunion and it was the first time that I participated in anything to do with my family in a long time. In my absence, babies were born, children had grown, and hardships had written themselves across brave faces during the passing of time. I was reconnected with members of my family who I hadn't seen in years, introduced to new members of my family, and embraced by those who recognized the extent of my absence, but loved me regardless. Being a "born again family member", I did feel a struggle to know where I fit, but it was unbelievably comforting to find people who made quick sarcastic comments, laughed about the shenanigans of our familial weirdness, and looked a lot like me - ready to accept me as one of their own. Hah! It was strange, but the hint of isolation that I felt last night only further motivated me to want to make an effort with my family to mend the bridges and lines of communication that have been neglected. Feeling that distance made me long for the feeling of inclusion, but in the same sense made me grateful to know the magnitude of their love and the meaning of family. 

Family is important to me. Whether it is the family I get to choose or the family that I was born into, I believe in family. Holding my sister's hand at dinner, I reiterated a message I haven't heard in years...but a message I'm starting to believe again - "we are family no matter what. Family is family...and family is everything."

...and the word evolves once more.

Adult Ninja Meets Peter and the Wolf

When I was about nine years old, I was terrified of the wolf from Peter and the Wolf. I'm serious, but it's justifiable because we had a totally frightening record that my dad used to put on the ol' record player (that's right kids, before the whole iPod deal...when things still had to spin to make sound...) that basically left the creation of the wolf to your imagination. Aided by low, bellowing horns, the ominous presence of the wolf would consume our living room as my sister and I grappled with the fear of this children's story. Imagine a light melody of flute music signifying a fluttering little bird and a narrator recounting the presence of this fearful wolf who finally eats the little bird to the sound of a thunderous horn section! True life. This meant that, for longer than I care to mention, when it was time for bed, I would get a running start and essentially long jump straight into pillows and a mountain of stuffed animals in order to avoid any run-in with a wolf lurking under my bed. Yes, welcome to my childhood traumas. 

 I'm happy to say, sometime between ages nine and twenty-four, I conquered my fear of wolves, most closet monsters, and perfected my karate chopping abilities to the misfortune of "Mr. Bear", just in case I had to take on "Chuckie". (Credit to Philip Santos for that one.) Graduated to the life of a brave and ninja-like adult, I was over the whole "fear" thing. That is, until I realized that being an adult meant a whole mess of weirdo adult fears like "emotions", "failure", and "the unknown". What?? 

When I came across the article, 15 Things You Should Give Up To Be Happy, the part about giving up on fears really resonated with me. I had just discussed my fears of the week - I say, "of the week" because, shoot, my fears change all of the time - fear of the unknown, fear of stagnation, of not meeting my expectations, not meeting other people's expectations, loving another person, letting myself be vulnerable with another person, of loss... yikes - the list goes on and on. The article says, "give up on your fears. Fear is just an illusion, it doesn’t exist – you created it. It’s all in your mind. Correct the inside and the outside will fall into place."

We all know that fear is an illusion and existing only our minds, but we continue to let fear permeate our lives. As my friend said on the phone today, she knows that she is holding back with her boyfriend, but she doesn't know why. We talked about it our fears, acknowledging that we are all scared, and justifiably so. We have our own reservations or "baggage", whatever you want to call it. We are all trying to figure out this crazy life and how to love each other when there are no guarantees. I said to my friend, jokingly, "...wouldn't it be nice if we could get all of the benefits of loving someone without having to risk...anything?" Yeahhhhh...but life doesn't work that way and you can't get to love without lowering the shield and letting yourself be seen. It is scary and it can be painful, but it can also be beautiful. Our lives are riddled with fears of our own creation and it is up to us to run towards them instead of away from them - conquering them in order to live free of their control and open to the possibilities of this life. 

Recently, I've started practicing running towards my fears. When I've seen something creeping up from the shadows, I've turned to face it, instead of bolting in the name of self-preservation. I've begun admitting to myself and to those around me - "I'm  jealous of this...I feel scared of that...I'm afraid because...etc." Do I still have fear? Ummm...yeahhhh. Yet, it is empowering to address fears, seeing what they really look like, and realizing that they don't have anything on me - if I don't let them.

I'm no longer afraid of wolves under my bed, not just because I've realized that it is just highly unlikely that an endangered creature could make its way into my house undetected, and claim the darkness underneath my bed as it's home, but because one day, I (as my nine-year-old self) marched into my bedroom, armed with a flashlight, and I crawled under that bed to see what was really going on under there. Where the scariest wolf was supposedly living, I found dust and a picture of my crush, Jonathan Taylor Thomas. (Yes, it was the 90's...) Horns weren't playing and I was safe, because my fear was an illusion. I had faced what I considered the scariest place in my room to find that there wasn't and never had been a wolf to be afraid of. Present day, I'm a twenty-something, karate chopping, adult ninja. I still hang on to shields and swords when confronting many of life's fears, but I'm starting to realize that the armor I carry is more of a hinderance than a help. Instead, I'm running in a different direction and though scared of pain, loss, love, failure, future, and all the rest, I'm exposing wolves under the bed as dust bunnies and opening myself up to the possibilities of life and love.

L-O-V-E

What's that word? Love? Hah! I'm such a nerd, because when it comes to "love" - I can't stop talking about it. I love love! Life, traveling, meeting new people, positivity, life lessons, whatever - when it comes to this world, I'm a broken record about embracing it with love. And, when it comes to friendship - you might as well give me a megaphone - cause I'm on top of a mountain yelling my head off about the majesty of friendship! Oh, boy. Well, being a friend is no small feat and being a good friend and accepting loving people into your life is something that takes practice. I know I've worked extra hard over the last few years to be a better friend to those around me and luckily, as I've opened myself up more on this level, I've found the most amazing people have embraced me for it. Especially after I left for Thailand, I found that the family of friends that I had built around me was one of the most important parts of my life. I truly believe that friends are the family that you choose and I'm so psyched about that.

However, there's another part of love that makes me freaked out and sends me running in the other direction. It's romantic love. It's that butterfly infested feeling that I've been hiding under a rock from. Friendship love? Yes! Romance? Blah! I shunned romantic love, or more realistically, I refused to open myself up to it...at all. I remember a girl in Thailand asking me if I had been dating at all since arriving on that little honeymooner island and I responded by telling her that I had been on a date with myself. It sounded so lame, but it was true. I went to Asia and I holed up. I started an introspective journey and that was all I needed. I was an 8 year old for the entire time I was in paradise - I loved myself and learned about the world around me, but I wasn't ready to let my guard down in the slightest.

Then, I headed back to America, laughing to myself about how foreign it would feel to flirt in English. Hah! I felt all safe and such, because it wasn't like I realllllyyyy had to be in America. It was a reunion tour. I was going to show up in various American cities, give some high fives to old friends, and then peace out again to Asia before I really had to settle in to America living. Hah! That's what I thought. Quick. Emotionally painless. Easy.

In the incredible little city of Santa Fe, I met a boy and I thought he was great. Actually, I thought he was absolutely crazy. I thought we could be partners in crime and minus any real emotional sacrifice, we could paint the town red, and then we could go our separate ways when it came time for me to cruise on my way to Korea. What I didn't realize was that he was part ninja and part heart hijacker...and that I wouldn't be able to get my heart back that easily.

I never planned any of this to happen. I planned Korea. I planned leaving. I planned guarded Nicola and "can't tone down me!" That's what comprised my mental check list, but it didn't pan out...except when you find a partner in crime...you don't have to tone yourself down. Now, I'm learning about romantic love. I'm learning about what it means to give someone your heart and I'm learning to be wildly open and running towards a departure date with no regard for emotional destruction. It goes back to what I always say - life is impermanent and beautiful. People we surround ourselves with should bring out the best in us. And, though I'm a child with little delicate emotions, my life is more glorious because I know him and I can't shake this feeling of being lovesick and head over heels happy, even if I wanted to.

Life Update with Timothy Shoultz

Oh, life. Oh, crazy mixed up world. I've been so hard to get a hold of recently, because, well, life keeps happening. Let's see....I was supposed to be in Korea last month, however, the land of entrapment....and life's refusal to be planned...has kept me in Santa Fe, where I have just been livin'. It has been interesting having such big plans to ship out and start the next chapter of adventure, yet, I believe that I am experiencing another level of adventure in this city that is familiar and different all rolled into one. Tim, my friend from Thailand, came to stay a couple of weeks ago and, lucky for me, he hasn't left yet. (He really should be reading all of my posts about how this place captures you...haha...'cause he's been captured!) 

So, we have been taking advantage of the time here - climbing, chilling, cooking good food, and partying a little on the heavy side every time the weekend rolls around. My body is kinda broken, a little bruised, and tired most of the time, but my heart is swelling with love and friendship, and I'm happy to be able to spend extra time with good people who bring out the best in me. 

And, now, here we are. Stateside. Having a blast...still climbing...still family...still shenanigans...

I figure, we never know what's going to happen, where we will end up, or for how long, but whether you are exploring yourself in a city in the U.S. or cruising around the grand ol' 'Merica looking for adventure, like my friend Tim, the lack of plans allows for spontaneous decision making...which in my case has taken shape in unexpected family reunions. My priorities concerning 2013 have to do with community and family. So, I'm not in Korea , yet, but I'll get there. In the meantime, I'm flourishing in the limbo of Santa Fe living. I wonder what surprises are headed my direction next...

This is 40, Unchained, and Violent

Understanding the daily struggles of a wealthy suburbanite family is no small feat. Oh, there's the children, the school obligations, the whole spousal sexual relationship to think of, and, of course, pool cleaning, financial responsibility, BMW driving, and catered parties to attend to. In the film, 'This is 40', we are brought into a glamorized world where cupcakes are bountiful, personal trainers are on hand, and yet, despite the glitz and the glamor, sadly, life's little challenges and disappointments stand true. Or, in this instance, are thrown in your face.

Though I laughed out loud at many of the comic relief moments (in particular the outtakes), I was a little baffled when I walked out of the movie. My friend asked rhetorically, "Aren't you happy you aren't stressed out after watching that movie and aren't desensitized to violence?", referring to the fact that he had campaigned heavily to see 'This is 40' instead of 'Django Unchained', stating that the comedic relief in the film, Django Unchained, was used to make the audience laugh at the overwhelmingly violent scenes, a technique that had made him uncomfortable during his viewing of the movie. Though I haven't seen the Tarantino production, I couldn't help but think that the romantic comedy, I had just viewed, was doing something of the same thing.

What didn't sit right with me was the way that the couple treated one another. Tension runs high in the film, escalating to incredibly painful interactions between the two characters, as the movie attempts to explore the "reality" of midlife relationships. But, the problem I have is that, actually, it really does make me stressed out to watch characters delve into their complex relationship drama and inability to communicate with one another in front of the audience, repeatedly, and without restraint. I think it is violent to treat people with disrespect and for that to be set on a stage, mixed into American dreams, so that the audience leaves the theater attempting to relate it to their relationship drama or how their own personal goals for success, family, and life in general, align with the movie's portrayal of what's desirable. It makes me think, "Is watching a destructive relationship acted out on the big screen, really any less violent than seeing a person pulled apart by dogs in Django?" Spoiler Alert. Whoops.

My friend and I talked after the movie about couples and the way that healthy communication is fostered. He told me that his parents were both incredible communicators. I laughed. (His parents are both therapists.) But, what about all of us non-therapists? In an article I read in The Telegraph, "romantic comedies make us unrealistic about relationships". They say this is because though many people understand that relationships take hard work and open communication, many movie viewers internalize unrealistic expectations about relationship perfection.

'This is 40' doesn't portray a perfect relationship, but it does glamorizes a certain kind of relationship. Leslie Mann and Paul Rudd live an idealized life that looks perfect on the outside. While the audience is distracted by shiny houses and cars, stressful social interactions are downplayed, emotionally destructive relationship squabbles occur, the audience is drawn in to laugh at communication failures, accepting them as part of "the deal", and finally, we forget about the fact that the characters never achieve any emotional growth on either the individual or the relationship level. After all, these kinds of movies are successfully marketed to a certain demographic that may, too easily, accept these elements without ever stopping to think about the functionality of the relationship being shown. So, there is a market for this. This is made to be presented as "normal life" and I think that's kind of a big deal.

My sister harped, "It's just a movie; you don't have to think about it so seriously." Well, if we aren't critical about "rom-coms" where are we left? Are we supposed to accept that? If the report in The Telegraph, on university research findings, holds true and many of us are becoming unrealistic about our understanding of relationships, doesn't exposure to relationship drama, desensitize us to it and therefore have almost equal or larger implications in our lives as being desensitized by physical violence?

Whatever, yeah, it is just a movie, and maybe I've just got beef with rom-coms, but I truly do believe that, on a real level, we should not laugh off bickering arguments, or bicker-ments, if you will, as just the way people are. We should not accept disrespect as run of the mill, familial push and pull. I believe that we have to act with love and we have to be ruthless in our demand for love and peace in our interactions. Regardless of financial or social standing, "love" is a daily struggle and I think to accept the movie solely as a rom-com without being critical leaves us in a similar state as Django, watching relationship warfare, unchained.

Posole

In the southwest, we cook a ceremonial corn dish, Posole, to celebrate our blessings and bring good luck to our families during the new year. Yesterday, I started cooking Posole and mixing up some of the spiciest red chile I can handle, as my attempt to bring good luck and blessings my way. It's just that, holy cow, 2012 sure smacked me around. Intentionally, too! Yes, 2012 was bare-knuckled and ruthless, but as my friend and I discussed over breakfast this morning, we go through the tough, "my life is falling apart!", crises, to gain tools for the future. And, I personally believe that 2013 is going to be magical due to the tools and lessons collected throughout the course of this crazy last year. It is because of these skills that we will be open to the possibilities of the new year in ways we otherwise would not have been. So, I have to say, "shine on, 2013", and, "thank you, 2012, for the strength you have given me".  (This is how I deal with life's disappointments - like a positivity junkie trying to look at the world not as much along the lines of "good and bad" experiences, but more in the sense of good times and learning experiences.)

I knew that coming back to America would be one big ol'...learning experience. I knew that things would not be easy with my family life, but I also had spent almost two years sitting on an island and soul searching, so I stopped running and returned with just about the necessary strength to confront the painful elements of my life. Undesirably, it ended up being much more difficult than I had imagined.

Then, a month ago, I was sitting in the climbing gym when a fellow climber who also happens to be an artist, healer, and devotedly religious individual, spontaneously asked if he could pray for me, because he sensed trouble with my family. I don't think I've ever really had anyone pray for me, but though we were sitting on crash pads, I guess I figured it had to be as good of a place as any to receive my first prayer. So, he said his prayer.

Sometimes the intensity of "God-stuff" can be a little much for me, but I felt as if we shared something really powerful and intimate despite the vastly different labels we use for our beliefs. Regardless of my own religious affiliation, his prayer about reuniting my family and bringing strength to us to help us heal and forgive one another, stuck me deeply since this individual had never spent any significant amount of time with me other than evenings pulling on plastic in the local climbing gym. There was no way for him to have any knowledge of my family's suffering, a deeply personal struggle, which has consumed a lot of my time and energy since my return to America. It was as if my life seemed to expose itself to him like I had a flashing neon sign over my head that said, "Family-Drama Queen - Yo, This Girl Needs Help". The whole experience was intense. I pushed it to the back of my mind, but as Christmas approached and happenstance would transpire in a way that allowed me to spend the holidays with my mom, sister, boyfriend, my sister's room mate, and my mom's friend, for what would be the best Christmas my family has shared in years, it was as if I lived out the prayer. Heather, my sister, and I were stunned. We couldn't believe the love, the happiness, and the peace that collected around our rag-tag family unit and allowed us to celebrate such an occasion in the highest of spirits despite the last couple months of intense pain. We all needed to be together as part of our healing. We had to be and despite the varying itineraries, in large part due to my attempt to leave the country, and "life-stuff" pulling in a multitude of directions, we got our Christmas together. Life's funny like that.

What I didn't get for Christmas, however, was some job security. After being strung along for months regarding my departure for Korea, my prospective employer changed my arrival date one last time and then retracted my job offer entirely. Bags packed, two weeks notice given, and good byes shared, I awaited my next big step in vain.

What I couldn't have foreseen, though, was that I needed Christmas to heal, I needed my family to be reunited, emotionally, after our struggles, and none of this would have been possible if I was on a flight headed halfway around the world. Next day, bummed about my job drama, I walked into the climbing gym and I saw the guardian angel climber. He asked me about my Christmas and I immediately started gushing about how awesome it had been, how I had been with my mom, sister, and a crew of new-found family members, and how I couldn't have been happier about it. He nodded almost knowingly and my mind somersaulted back to the words he shared with me, sitting in the same location just weeks before, he had said a prayer for me that was just that...reunited family, healing, love, strength, forgiveness.

Now, I look towards 2013 with much uncertainty, yet certainty just the same. My plan had been set: go to Korea, save money, live out my dream. However, since moving back to America, so much has changed in my life, that "certainty" now makes me think only of my priorities and love for the people around me. Though parts of being back in New Mexico have been dark and ugly, the tools that I've picked up make me feel like the ultimate video game character with star speed, strawberry health, and mushroom super-size. I feel good when I think about what life has dealt and my ability of responding in a, "I'm not running anymore", way. In a, "I'm strong enough to deal with this, because I meet the world with love and positivity that starts within me", way. In a, "my mind and my heart are certain", way, for that's all we ever have at the end of it all anyway. My tumultuous time here threw out my "Zip-a-dee-do-dah" idea I had that I would be able to give some high fives for a month of being in The States, and then high tail it to Korea before life could really sink in and I'd have to feel anything. Luckily, my plans didn't work out. I say that this was lucky, because it forced me to face difficult truths. Although the confrontation was uncomfortable, I've learned that life can't be calculated, mapped, or planned, because the future is unpredictable and it is our ability to roll with it, bend with it, prevail despite it, that prepares us for something greater. Maybe I'll make it to Korea this year; maybe I won't. Maybe I'll stay in Santa Fe; maybe I won't. Maybe I'll be scraping together loose change for the next few months, but will be rich in this world's good graces. Whether you believe December 21st, 2012 brought about a bunch of unwarranted hype or a significant change in global consciousness, I believe that the end of the year brought an opportunity for love and healing, the chance to see that with struggle we see our blessings, with pain we learn of our strengths, and with each life happening, only good times and learning experiences.

We make holiday dishes with consideration for the meaning behind our traditions. This year, because I was not in Korea, I got to make Posole.

Shine on, 2013.