another almost rainy day in durango

not to say that this happens frequently by any means in a place like durango, but the past two days have been one of the 60 non-days of sunshine in a while.  i can't say i mind it- it matches my own familiar melancholy, and i appreciate the excuse it gives me to sit in a coffee shop and drink a good pour over house blend, and write.  lil miss lori cheever explained to me the other day that my blog was like a quick glance on the inner workings of my mind- i am not so sure how i feel about that, but i do know that it is turning into quite the lil hobby and that being real and relatively vulnerable in most of my endeavors is kind of how i work.  it doesn't always work out in my best interest, but i think i am starting to get the hang of it more and more... allowing it to be my greatest gift and NOT my greatest demise. 
i have been trying to think of a way that i can hone in my blog a little bit more...
i want to be able to offer something to people who read this, other than lil pieces of my heart that someone might nor really want or feel awkward about recieving.  but that might mean i have to learn a skill or trade or topic to cover like knitting, or baking pies, or canning food, or politics, or sex, well enough to be able to teach it... and i dont quite have the time for that at the moment seeing as i am about to be single and moving to hawaii.  although, there are a plethora of skills and trades and knowings of the world that i would love to explore and share and know well enough to teach (politics maybe not so much... but i do need to work on my naivete of the subject).  ok moving on from my incessant rambling.. i do have something i wanted to offer to anybody who comes across this post.
 it has to do with the melancholy of this almost rainy day, and the soft footsteps of autumn approaching-the slightly less vibrantly green trees, the way the day looks like it posseses a bite of chill to it, but really it is just a kiss, the fact that we can ride phil's world in the mid-day sun, and find a parking spot on main on a saturday, the little hole in my heart that has begun to form in the absense of summer sweat, and watching my friends and loved ones go through new cycles, endings to form new beginnings, closing doors to open new ones, times they are a-changing... so here is a little prayer... for anyone and everyone experiencing transition, little and larger holes in the heart, endings for beginnings, the bite of loneliness instead of the kiss of partnership... someday i will write my own, for now i borrow the words of Rabbi Rami M. Shapiro:

Life and death,
a twisted vine sharing a single root.

A water bright green
stretching to top a twisted yellow
only to wither itself
as another green unfolds overhead.

One leaf atop another
yet under the next;
a vibrant tapestry of arcs and falls
all in the act of becoming.

Death is the passing of life.
And life
is the stringing together of so many little passings. 

coffee steak and tears

i think jack kerouac could maybe have taken this on a bit better than me, but nonetheless i am going to give it a shot- my writing tends to take on the form of stream of consciousness, and when i just let my mind relax into, it my hands can truly become an extension of my heart even if they are typing and creating and translating onto a screen although i do prefer a ball-point pen and acid-free paper.  poetry is sometimes the easier venue, and sometimes a just ramble will do the trick...maybe a bit of both- 

the feeling of coffee in my gut right now actually brings me back to that wet tuesday morning among the ponderosa pines, the lone woman (of which there is no doubt i am proud) amongst my tears and the tears of 6 men.  its not very often that a sacred experience such as that invites you to sit in on its sacred circle.
how lucky we are, the thought and truth of all of us present in that extended moment.  i walked in on a cloud of smoke from the grill upon which steaks were being prepared for a hardy last breakfast with derek daley.  it is also the last time i will sit in that circle next to the cabin with my love, evan, and trusty co-workers/friends billy, hunter, karl, wes... we are all embarking on transition, the edge of newness, the extenstion of our boundaries and comfort zones-the feeding frenzy for the soul- the image of each of us riding into the sunset on a trusty steed was planted in my head yesterday as hunter composed his version of coffee steak and tears, and the fact that we were all given a willow spirit horse, a little gift, a little common token of gratitude and connection. 
it all started in circles, for all of us as we began our journey at open sky.  different circles at different times, and we all communed together "a community from within" in this one circle, the pinnacle of our time at open sky, the opening of our hearts, the relaxation of our indigenous wild spirits in the place they are most welcome.  i speak for everyone in this moment because this was my genuine experience of this particular circle, and i come back to speaking only for myself.

how lucky am i?
to be a raw witness and
witness the raw, and
be a seeker of truth among
other truth seekers

and walk a path paved
by orion himself in the
delaying darkness of a tuesday
dew morning

and be on the brink of
change
and watch changing
men walking
the path paved by the setting
sun and rising
smoke

keep accepting the
invitation to
sit in circles

keep pushing your
boundaries and
exploring the
feeding frenzy of the soul

open your eyes to tears

open your ears to the breeze

i love you all.
thank you for sharing yourselves with me.

chapter 717 of this life-

-slowly creeps itself around the corner... showing up in the form of wraiths and ghostly figures beckoning me towards what seems like darkness but really it just the unknown.  leaving everything that i have found comfortable and comfortably uncomfortable for the past two and a half years.  to name a few: my man, my dog, my job, the utah desert, friends and connections lost and refound, the san juans, osha, aspen trees, winter time, snow boots, apples, the list goes on and on- all that i appreciate and love about this place, my home, my sanctuary, and my hell- to leave it all indefinitely scares me and makes me wanna curl up, watch chick flicks, and cry. 
this vacation off from work has been epic in a lot of ways... ranging from dramatic emotion and being told i am a "lovely trainwreck" to grieving, healing, being in the wild with females/getting a dose of my own wilderness therapy, getting a tattoo and truly devoting myself/my spirit to joy, and moving out of the only place i have lived in the last year (which is out of 3) that has truly felt like home despite the crowded chaos of the kitchen and the dark living room.  today is sunday, which is my favorite of the seven days of the week; it is always my perfect excuse to stay home and watch a movie, especially when the clouds are looming as they are today.  i spent the last week in the wilderness with two wonderful ladies and two wonderful dogs.  i couldn't believe the vast landscape of my heart that was provoked and spilling out all over the place as i walked, came upon high alpine lakes, dreamed vivid dreams, and sat with myself before the sunrise.  a few highlights included spontaneously stripping down into nude-ness and jumping in the pine river, deciding to call the day short at a spot called moon lake, and rejoice in the incessant wetness of the misty rain afternoon- journaling and distracting myself with harry potter (my first go at the books by the way). another moment i reluctantly and hopefully share is my sudden surge of emotion that caused me to scream and hurl rather large rocks into the pine river (5 or 6 as an attempt to be exact), releasing emotion, persistent circular thoughts, fears, and finally dropping myself out of my head into an adrenaline filled body, guided by truth and heart.  this happened on the last day a couple hours before it began to downpour and we all decided to forgo our rain gear, and just walk getting drenched, and soaking up the last bits of our journey together- ready to take in any last gift the wilderness had to offer.
i always feel like i am walking my path when i find myself in truly wild places-waking with sunrise-mornings i wish would never end- and crawling into my bed when the last of the blue shadow evening has faded into darkness. simplicity, and evoking exploration beyond anything that can exist in four walls. 
so now i am sitting in a room- four walls that have provoked much exploration for me since i have moved in here, and are getting closer and closer to being empty.  just a few things linger here, mostly dirt and p-chord, but many many memories that i will keep close to my heart despite their nature.  thick raindrops have just begun pelting the leaves outside the window, bringing back memories of candlelit nights where there was no where i would rather be than here on this bed, with my lover, listening to rain, or feeling the moonlight seep in through the small east-facing window.  ode to this odd-shaped, terribly insulated room! ode to lovers' arms! ode to moving in, and moving out! ode to the creeping up of my next chapter! 

right now

i am sitting in the kitchen in between two computer screens, the one that i am typing on, and the other playing "dog days are over" by florence and the machine, along with a few other songs i am about to line up on grooveshark... the song starts out like:
happiness hit her like a train on a track/ coming towards her, stuck no turning back/ she hid around corners and she hid under beds/ killed it with kisses and from it she fled/ with every bubble she sank with a drink/ and washed it away down the sink
hiding from happiness? love maybe? truth? governed by fear and what it can really be like to take the risk and move into a place of real hard contentment with life...
my ears have recently been spending most of their time listening to happy, somewhat dramatic, and on the edge of empowering bands like the morning benders, foster the people, florence and the machine, mumford and sons, and a few singer-songwriters that make me wish and believe that i will be a singer-songwriter in my next life.  Evan calls it my hipster music, which actually makes me smile a little bit inside because i wish i could dress as well as the hipsters that stroll valencia in san fran... but once again-not for this lifetime, plus obscurity loses its attractiveness to me pretty quick.
onto a less- satisfying and invigorating topic, i just recently found out (as in yesterday morning) that i have an autoimmune disease called hashimoto's thyroiditis.  this means that all of the good antibodies in my immune system that are supposed to be fighting off disease cannot tell the difference between healthy and non-healthy tissues and have begun to attack the healthy tissue of my thyroid.  this causes me to have an array of symptoms that have felt somewhat unexplained and unprompted until i found this out.  fatigue, lethargy, depression, heart burn, my metabolism switching from being very slow to pretty fast (hyper- and hypo-thyroid-ness), no wonder motivation to exercise can be SO hard.  in some ways it is a bit of a relief to finally know whats wrong, and finally begin to start focused treatment with my naturopath... in other ways it is a bit scary, definitely very fresh and unknown, i can never eat gluten again, and by that i mean i can't even use a cutting board that has just had bread on it, or use shampoo or soap that has wheat protein in it or oats... this means i have to be a high maintenance customer whenever i go out and maybe even walk out of a place if they can't guarantee that nothing is cross contaminated with gluten- high maintenance.... yikes.  so i am on the search for research... books, websites, helpful resources of any kind in order to really nail this thing as i work to rebuild the lining of my stomach and start taking 15,000 iu of vitamin d a daaayyy! holy smokes.  so if anyone reads this... which i am not sure they do, any info or suggestions are highly appreciated.  a good thing is that my naturopath believes it can be corrected if i am really diligent with it right now... it is extremely rare for someone in the twenties to have this disease, most people who have it are women in their fifties, but it can definitely be genetic, which i think might be the case for me.  by the time people are in their fifties their thyroid has already become hypo, and mine can still be regulated... so we will see how things turn out...
this is a big time in my life... i just found out i have hashimoto's and i have been looking at applying to a program called pacific quest located in hawaii... a new place and life to explore beyond the comfort of my little mountain town of durango where my heart will probably stay and return to for a long time.

a rather personal poem i wanted to share

but why does the mind always
have to be convinced of truth?
truth is in the feeling of my ankle
on this wood floor
it is in the opening of my body
to my lover
it is in my hand being an extension
of the heart
and the fact that
i cant let that line go

truth is in the relaxation
of my feet in the ocean
swallowing smooth cool
waves

in the fear of being alone
in the dark

in the summer moon
hung sultry
in august

in the exaltation of a heart basking in the presence of another- not
in the grey locomotive drone of thoughts
loud-thick-fleeting-repeating

not in the dark spiral
though endless, inviting
truth is
in the opening where
dark spiral turns to light

the green dress

in relation to my last post, i want to take a couple minutes to write about the green dress.  i used this metaphor once in order to describe to a student what it can be like to go home (especially after being in wilderness), and the patterns, no matter how old, that we often succumb to upon returning home no matter who we are or where we are coming from.  the metaphor went as such; there is a green dress that hangs in my old closet, outside of my old room, in my dad's house, at the top of the darker staircase that leads to my room.  i created it when i was in high school, when i secretly wanted to wear black to reflect my mood, and when the cracks around the door frame of my room were first born (my technique of open, slam, open slam...) getting the picture?  unfortunately, every time i return home, i find the dress to be just as seductive as the last time, marching up the stairs, putting it on over my head to find that it is just as form fitting as ever.  i tend to cry a lot, and prove to my parents and sisters that nothing really has changed and that they are right, i am still the same person i was in high school, lost, confused, angry, attention seeking in all the wrong ways: WOULD SOMEBODY JUST LOVE ME EVEN THOUGH I AM ACTING LIKE A TOTAL ASSHOLE???
but not this time. no, i didn't do it.  the dress sat, hung, in my closet.  and don't get me wrong, i opened the closet a few times, i caressed the white lace frills on the sleeves, the 3 silk buttons marching down the breast twirled within my thumb and fore finger, and something kept me from tossing that long-sleeved, down to my ankles, sea foam green dress on over my head.  maybe i have better style? or because i am not truly a hipster at heart? or maybe taking a couple deep breaths really does work, and maybe bringing the calm, curious presence of my man home with me has something to do with it as well.  either way, i left new hampshire with an ancient feeling of anxiety AND a little more faith in myself, and a little more faith in my relationship with my sisters (especially allie, if you're reading this).

week three off from work

vacation has been interesting and fulfilling thus far.  i am currently sitting in the exact spot i wrote countless high school papers.  ofcourse the computer has changed, given the approximate three year life span and the approximate 7 years that it has been since i left new hampshire.  but aside from the colors on the walls, and a few peices of furniture, this house still feels the same in mid-june as it always did.  although i would fight to the death to deny it, there is a part of my soul that feels really saturated with being here.  the green, the humidity, the mists of the ocean have become so unfamiliar to me in the red sands of colorado. there, i jump up and down at the sight of riparian environment, the discovery of a new river, any moisture i can find; here, it is all around me, bursting and lush.  my dad's garden is still moist from getting watered a few days ago; we wouldn't have to water seedlings three times a day to support growth like we do in the desert, everything lives with a different kind of ease here.  although, i don't remember it being easy...
it is kind of a trip thumbing through old pictures of myself, old stories i wrote, journal entries filled with darkness and woe and insecurity from the extensive exhausting dramatic episodes of my teenage years.  needless to say, things have gotten a bit better since then.  even in recent years, visiting "home" has always been a chore, but not today, today it feels good, my roots are still in tact, although it's only been 24 hours.