india again

more incomplete glimpses that maybe i should have figured how to tie together before i posted them separately, but oh well.

yesterday i hid from delhi.
i stayed inside like some over-entitled wealthy white person paying
$18.50 for air conditioning and luxury when all i really need to get by
is 6 dollars on pahar ganj.
i went out once.
and dust, tuktuk drivers, incessant honking horns, fruit vendors and children poking me in the breast to ask for money
not to mention 120 degree heat
just didn't tickle my fancy.
sorry great mother india.
sometimes my love for you is unbearable
it hurts my heart, it thrills me and makes every cell in my body smile
and i spend all my time trying to figure out when i can get back to you
and your mountains
and all the sun-withered faces
and other times i hate you.
you make me crazy, feel lonelier than ever
even in your sea of beings
and i wanna' ask for all the arms of kali
so i can scream, plug my ears, give you the finger and
stand weapon in hand and say en guard! all at once.

but its always worth it.
the smells-spices incense shit urine
flavors of dust dirt and bodies
and i am always heartbroken and eager to leave
when i board my lonely flight home. 

india

an incomplete glimpse continued.

i forgot how one of my favorite things was being a passenger in an indian taxi
on the breath of chaos that-for once- isn't mine.

and when i sit on the train to chandigarh
lookin' out the window
the sides of the tracks are saturated
with a colorful confetti of garbage
cows, pigs,
and people chatting over their morning shits.
i can see how thick the air is with
smells, pollution, and
heat that at 6:30am hits you like
-well i don't know-
i want to say 'a ton of bricks'
but that just seems hackneyed at this point-
but its true.
its different-humid.
so unlike the fire-prone-desert-meets-mountain-land
that i come from.
here, you might not remember that the sky is blue,
but you hope it is.  

quick update

i forgot how much i love to be in the passenger seat of an indian taxi or any vehicle in india with an indian driver. thrilling.
being gluten free has gotten old really fast what with all the naan and samosas and various biscuits and momos (tibetan dumplings) at my finger tips.
catching a bug in india at 13,000 feet that has me running to the bathroom for 24 hours and violently wretching into the toilet at 4 in the morning and so uncomfortable that i can't lay down is one of the worst feelings in the world-
and totally worth the view and the noises and the himalayan air.
teaching yoga scares the shit out of me- i feel unworthy of it.
waking up and going to sleep with the sun feels really healthy (surprise!).

this has been such a whirlwind and feels a bit like a dream.
i am taking notes
and photos
and am excited to share.
much love.    

for all the times you tucked me in

i remember when you would crawl into the bottom bunk with me some nights
and you would let me talk to you about
my ten year old woes
and how i couldn't say "i love you" enough
and how "i love you" didn't actually seem enough
and how recently i still wanted to crawl into your lap
more than anything.
and how sometimes when erin crawls into mine
it feels similar and safe
the way it did then.

so thank you for winding up all the music boxes
and letting me play hookey
thank you for letting me sleep in your bed when i was sick
and all the ice cream sundaes.
thank you for the elton john evenings
and sundays where we listened to 'breakfast at tiffany's' on repeat and ate dinner together.
thank you for all the musical instruments that i played to no avail
and always just letting me sing.

if i was there right now
i promise i would sing you a lullaby
in hopes it would be better than buzzing lights
and pain in your knee.

and 'i love you' still doesn't feel like enough.
so thank you for teaching me how to smile.

feel better mama.

your watch brought me comfort this week.
when i was lucky enough to lay my head under the sound of the night hawks
and weary tired blood-shot-from-crying-eyes could finally gaze up through the lace of the ponderosa branches.
i could hear it on my wrist.
tick tick tick.
and remembered that there is life outside of this.
there is comfort other than my solitude in the darkness and the duff
comfort of arms and legs intertwined and smiling lips
and kissing lips.
and laughter.
oh right.

thank you for letting me borrow your watch.
it helped me keep track of myself.

so i pull out the opened aging bottle of port in my closet
i uncork it
and i don't bother getting a glass
and the familiar thought swells up in me again
'its time to go'
this oh-so-familiar feeling-sorry-for-myself-side says
nothing ever goes as planned
smiles fade
laughter stops
lets get outta dodge.

and another-less-familiar-side says
it's okay to slow down
and curiosity can go a long way.

not to mention there is always music playing in the background.

bob dylan sings me to sleep tonight
harmonica and all.

and i think about those words:

"strong women will encourage and awaken the potential
inside of you" he said
"make you wanna be a better man-
an intimidating prospect."

and so i giggle as i crawl into my bed and wait.

is that what is happening here?


my dog is the only male i have to get mad at these days.
and masturbation is a proud and honest fool.

the whiskey compilations III

the sun hasn't gone down yet
and the ice is already clinking in my glass
because i like to sit in my own shit
and self medicate
and feel sorry for myself
and i am so god damn tired of all the alone time
a little company would be nice
my bed is so damn cold at night.

oh whoops.
i am sorry.
did i leave a mark on your heart?
mustabeen the whiskey talking again.

here, let me unzip my jacket.
is that where my heart is?

you got a smile that can leave a mark too.

i'll just wait
here.

and i am sorry that my bed is so small.

i heard my first hummingbird today.
i swear it sought me out.
flying by all quick-like.
leaving me questioning.

and then i remembered that i saw pain in your eyes.
and i am so curious about your hesitation.

and thinking about it doesn't help.

so now the whiskey leaves my lips wet
and my tongue full of wit and fire.
and i would love to roll another cigarette
and just sit
with you.

its like this.

its like cleaning out my closet.
making space for new things,
clothes
different blankets
new feathery accessories.

its like a conversation between old lovers
in this lifetime
the last
or the next.

its like riding my bike in the full moonlight
and listening to gritty tunes in the honda toaster.

its like your best friend telling you to shut the fuck up
and being called out on being mopey.

its like free lunch and good company and two hour long cups of coffee.

its like a conversation that probably should have happened two years ago,
and now not being the right time,
and feeling sorry,
and knowing that apologies for truth are, for lack of a better word, stupid.

its like heartbreak happens once a day,
and that's beautiful because it means you are loving something or someone so much your heart could break over it.

its like coming back to an old job, and having it feel new and utterly different,
and its like having a job that lets you howl at the moon with boys on a journey that they won't know about for a few more years.

its like dancing with a pink boa
and making new friends
and acceptance and rejection and movement and healing.

its like getting a job offer in one of your favorite places,
with one of your favorite people.

its like it all works for once
its like all the pieces fit together.

its like finding out how i well i lean on myself and
how i love to love.

yeah. its like that.

springtime of my loving.

its official.  spring time has laid its blue sky hands over our lil' mountain town of durango, caressing us all into transition... time to bloom ladies and gentleman! welcome to (as i borrow words from robert plant and jimmy page) the springtime of my loving.  winter has finally thrown up its white flag of surrender- despite its rather measly attempts to keep us inside this year.  everyone is out and about-adorn in big grins and flip flops and skirts.  i just stepped outside to help coach little adorable children in petting my dog, and it seems that my heart is stuck in this warm place.  was florence right? are the dog days really over? couldn't be.  how could i possibly be comfortable in my body? how could i possibly be comfortable in this place where i feel happy and secure in my heart?  i'm excited to go in the field you say? its all so new.  perfect timing-spring: new beginnings, opening and closing of doors, finding moments of elderhood and feeling like a newborn all at once, the ending of one lifetime and beginning of another, old and new friends coming out of the cracks in the sidewalks to remind me of my roots, and what i lost and what i found.  i think i might be more than a little grateful to be alive right now.  it all just proves what an ally time is for me.  i got to durango, and immediately freaked out because of all the change and differences, and almost moved away.  "but mountain bike season is about to start," said my body, and "i feel at home here" said my heart, and "i don't care," said my irrational mind, and "stay for a second, relax, settle," said many voices of reason that i am so lucky to have in my life, "you are strong, it is going to be okay."  and so here i am- sitting in my favorite coffee shop, watching the sunshine from inside, tracking, keeping my ear to the breeze, basking in my lil' love affair with myself for just a moment.  and thus ends this episode of 'here is my heart on a platter for you to munch on.'
much love.  

still searching.

Its Valentine's Day, and I find myself sitting alone in my room, with not much more than a couple of dogs to love sprawled out on my bed.  My room is filled with things that I am too scared to unpack.  Did I really want to commit to being in Durango for a year? I am just not sure.  Good things are happening though.  There is no doubt, magic is unraveling right before my eyes, the same way the Animas Valley lays out its red carpet for the mountains to the north.
I just spent about half a week in the field, working my Jedi mind tricks and allowing students and parents to stroke my ever-forming ego.  For lack of a better adjective, it was awesome.  It is true, the desert has indeed been calling my name.  My urge to rub my face in the red dirt below my feet has finally been fulfilled, and my heart has finally released its lamenting song as I slept beneath a waning moon and watched the sunrise on a sandstone outcropping; my favorite place to watch the sunrise; a place that gives the words, expansive skies, a whole new meaning.
(You will have to excuse me- I have been attempting to add grammar to my blog, (hence the capital letters) and am just not so sure of the correct usage of the semi-colon- currently looking for a class to take to solve this issue and/or open to cheap tutoring.)
I have indeed had a love affair with the desert.  The pinion and the juniper trees have swooned me into wanting only the smell of sage on the breeze.  But alas, I cannot shake my feeling of wanting to go; wanting to keep searching, jump in the car I don't have, and keep driving further west.  That way, I can make sure that there is nothing over there that contains the answers.  Because while I did find answers, I didn't find the answer buried under last autumn's maple leaves, and while I did find answers, I didn't find the answer in the depths of the sweet warm pacific, and while I am finding answers, I am still not finding the answer in this bosom of plenty where the mountains and the desert meet.
I guess the important thing is, I have started singing again, and there is no one around to tell me to stop.  

wedding, roots, and milagro.

so this is the ending to one of the best weekends i have had in a long time.  its sunday, so i can't stop humming a familiar grateful dead song, and its the day after my sister, allie's wedding, so i can't stop replaying the evening over and over in my mind.  girl can throw a party, there is no doubt about it.  in few words, the wedding was fabulous.  allow me to lay out the scene.  two windy dirt roads led us to the little Sleepy Hollow Inn in Huntington, Vermont on January 27th;  a super small, family owned inn surrounded by cross country skiing/mountain biking trails (which may open up the possibility of a summer time visit for me!), and accompanied by a beautiful round barn with huge windows that frame the view of Camel's Hump, the mountain that we all scurried up as little ones, when our feet were growing so fast that we got a new pair of hiking boots every year.  there was an intermittent dusting of snow (which sounds really romantic, and maybe it was more like random patches of ice), and intermittent snow flurries (not to mention the night of rain) to boot. the bridal party- which included bride, groom, moms, dads, groomsmen, bridesmaids, dates, wives, girlfriends, and more stuffed ourselves into the little inn, all the folk who went stag slept three to a room and the couples were assigned little cozy love nests.  the weekend started off with a night of karaoke, and new fun fact about megan-i apparently really love karaoke.  After witnessing a completely out of tune "sweet caroline" and belting out janis joplin's "piece of my heart" and consuming what seemed to be about 25 glasses (they were very small) of wine, we concluded the evening gathered around an ipod and speakers talking about modern timeless music, and what its like to love to sing and not care what people think.  
the next day was THE day.  the day allie has been waiting for, and the day her older sister has been patiently awaiting amid curiosity, excitement and quarter-life-crisis moments.  for lack of a better adjective, and because my head is still swimming in tequila, the day was beautiful; the picturesque round barn was beautiful, the bride was beautiful, the ceremony was beautiful, and all the attendees were beautiful too.   and not only was the wedding chock-full of dancing, laughs, and a very short, lacking in passion, and mildly abusive love affair with milagro tequila, it was also a really beautiful reminder.  a beautiful reminder of where i come from.  i came from that day.  i come from the people who showed up and have always been, and will continue to be witnesses of the lives of the campbell girls. i come from witty sarcastic dry and hilarious comments, from sweet libations in the middle of winter time, and from the lack of shame in what its like to belt it out and shake it on the dance floor.  i come from countless winters in vermont, fireplaces and borrowing my mother's boots to go outside.  i come from my three sisters.  what a blessing.  i come from an extended family that is mostly not related by blood, but by love and unquestionable bonds, and from hair tugs and finger traps from those who are related to me by blood.  i feel most comfortable marching around in the cold in a flannel and ripped jeans, and i enjoy sleeping until at least 8 when its below 40 degrees outside.  woodstoves are one of my favorite things in the world, and so are dads.
so i guess everything that i am getting to here, is a big fat thank you to allie and josh.  thank you for creating and believing in magic.  thank you for taking me back to my roots (somewhere along the way, i lost touch with them).  thank you for introducing me to beautiful new family, and beautiful new friends, and creating a space where almost everyone we know and love could get together again and realize that we don't want to do this just once every 5 years because its too important.  life is too short.  most of all, thanks for believing in love, and having faith enough to take the risk.  it gives me hope and brings me joy.  you are both beautiful.  and thank you for giving me the opportunity to be a witness and a part of it all.
many many blessings to the bride and groom and all of the attendees! love you.
              

first run in about three weeks

hello friend. i seem to have forgotten about you.  i got swept up in what its like to be in new hampshire at the end of january.  long shadows, the sun not peeking its way into my east-facing window until 8am, family time, laughs, tensions, differences, the cold that has always bit me right on the end of my nose and the points of my cheek bones.  but today-as if i had my phone on me for the first time in weeks- you called me, and i responded.  bottled up, used up emotion, energy, muscle memory, and someone else's i-pod helped as well. i hit the ground running.  thanks for calling.  you have seen me at my worst- tears, fears, anxieties sitting on my chest like bullet proof vests, and my best-smiles stretching extra close to my eyes, skipping-jumping-bursting-exuberance.  i have forgotten about you, i have abused you, i have been really ungrateful for all the opportunities you have provided for me, and yet, you're still here. waiting for me. always ready to let me at it.  

it turns out that running in 30 degree weather has its own perks.  its energizing in a different way than the hot sun beating on me, or the moist air settling on my skin-the wet suit of sweat i wore in hawaii.  here, my skin is all dry afterwards, and my lungs hurt a little bit, my muscles and joints feel a bit confused, AND the amount of ALIVE i feel is unlike anything else.  

so thanks again.  thanks for always being there.  thanks for clearing my head and my heart.  thanks for allowing me to notice that there is a sidewalk on the road that i have driven down for the years in a fitful tearful  teenage fury unable to get to the ocean fast enough. thanks for the reminder.

today i ran to the ocean on the other side of the world.  the other ocean.  the cold cold atlantic, that i once ran into and submerged myself in late october, and let. go.  

    

     

thank you

i am at the point of no return when it comes to starting where i left off the last time i signed on to this thing.  for starters, it is 5 o'clock right now and pitch black outside.  that's right, i have left the most remote archipelago in the world and am now sitting in a creaky study in the northeast corner of our country, the seacoast of new hampshire.  its amazing how much lower the light sits in the sky on this end of things... in hawaii we are only about 1500 miles away from the equator, here, the miles seem immeasurable.  i have gone from bikini bottoms and airy shirts to tearing through my 13 year old sisters closet in search of a warm hat, and gallavanting down the streets of cambridge for a pair of closed toed shoes that doesn't cost me a fortune (and doesn't look like the geeky purple pair of tennis shoes i was running in just a week ago in only a sports bra).
yes, it all seems like a distant dream right now.  hawaii.  does it really exist?!  am i really so lucky to have just spent the last three months of my life there?! it feels surreal, undeserved, a mere story i made up in my fruitful imagination.  it was truly a place of healing for me.  so i wanted to write hawaii, the goddess pele, the ocean, the raw black jagged truth that is the energy vortex of the place i just became so intimate with, a thank you note... (these tend to be my favorite ones to write!) so here it goes!
i apologize if i have left anything out. and know, it wasn't all peaches and cream... ha!

dear dear dear hawaii,
where to begin? i feel infinitely grateful to have spent the last three months with you.  to start off i would like to thank you for challenging me.  for cutting up my feet, making me question what it really means to be grounded.  for throwing all mother nature's elements at me all at once; for overwhelming me with emotion; for helping me feel what it really means to be lonely; for sucking me into the womb of darkness, my eternal introspection where my self-critic feels oh-so-comfy and the black dog is fed;
thank you for providing me with fertile yet rocky unforgiving ground for growth.  for retribution from myself and the smoky tortures of my mind; thank you for aiding me in the discovery of distraction and the opening, healthy, hearty, laugh-at-myself-moments.  thank you for providing me with perspective.. for drawing me so far away from all my different families, that appreciation no longer has the same ring to it as it did before, endless gratitude and new eyes are more like it. thank you for introducing me to new family.
new eyes.  thank you for giving me new eyes.  for allowing me to re-discover the magic of snow falling, fire places, and scarves, and what it means to spend the holidays with my sisters; i dont know if i will ever spend another christmas so close to alone. 
thank you for allowing me to swim everyday.  to exist in prayer and meditation.  to be quiet and contemplative without over analyzing.  to be nice to myself.  to begin to learn to know what it means to embrace my big hips and on-the-thicker-side-thighs.  thank you for teaching me the art of relaxation.  of introducing the possibility that maybe wherever i am, really is where i am supposed to be.  patience.  truth.  the mending of a broken heart. 
i promise to keep learning the hawaiian moon calendar.  i promise to keep in touch with family there.  i promise to take what i have learned with me.  i promise to work on coming from a place of gratitude and forgiveness, and to continue practicing what it means to live with aloha. 
please know that i walk forward balancing on the fringe of knowing my own strength and beauty, and i will humbly accept any more challenges you can throw my way.

much love in prayer and gratitude.
aloha,
mc