Sunday, November 9, 2008
Feeling Alive and Radiant.
The above photo is of Upper Cherry Creek, of Cherry Bomb Falls, a Class VI section of whitewater that Will has rafted. I was part of his backpack support, which was incredible- It was a magical hike, although I was jealous that I didn't get to be in the raft (it was just him and another burly guy), but then it started snowing and I watched them run this rapid at 5pm in June in the Sierras at 6000 feet. In the snow. Yeah. I slid down the granite into camp on my ass, because wet granite is like ice.
It was one of the most difficult and beautiful backpacking trips of my life.
The past two weeks have been tiring - no, exhausting - but something has happened that awoke my spirit. I can't pinpoint it. Well, I can, but I can't publicly describe it. It's like being hit viscerally with this sense of knowing that's beyond a doubt, like walking into a room, seeing something or someone and feeling your stomach fall through your feet. I've felt like something has been coming for a while from the universe/energy/out of the blue/god/whatever, and every day just seems to get better and better, and yes, something has happened. I'm meeting more people who have my same values and interests, always exciting, but it's not *they* who are the cause of this vibrancy; I think it's the fact that my fire is lit up that's bringing them into my life. Know what I mean?
Like sometimes you meet someone and they're a mirror, and you know you have a lot to learn with that person, and that means you're on the right path.
And it's not just the people, - I mean, people definitely excite me, and I'm dorky that way- I'm always wanting to know what makes someone tick, and I'm always curious.
It's kind of the brat in me. I. Want. To. Know. Now. NOW.
There are opportunities and places to explore and stuff to get involved in that had been tough to find- from medicine to community to job leads. Until the past oh, month or so. Like things are coming together.
I feel like an excited kid when it comes to everything, except a little bit smarter.
And a little shy. But that's another story.
I feel in love with life again.
Will and I are doing well. He came back, and we have deepened our love to a place I didn't think it could go. Honesty. I likes it. I told him some difficult things this week, and we've talked through them. I've never been able to be so raw with someone, and it's been amazing. I feel incredibly lucky to be with him.
Everything I'm doing feels like it has a purpose. This week, someone asked me to describe myself, and one of my words was, "Intense." He nodded and gave me some of his own stories, which I was surprised by. He's not the only person that I've had this same conversation with this week (although with him it was the most intentional and clearest). It's like similar people keep finding each other, over and over.
Intensity. I can't do anything that's not wholehearted. Even writing a paper has me mildly stoked (well, okay, pushing it- but the topic is good).
I keep looking back at what's made me feel the molecules of my soul in the past, and I want to share some of those things with you:
There is nothing like rowing the 226 miles of this river. I miss every day I got to be out here. I faced a change in confidence by rowing rapids that were, for lack of better words, huge, and by having to trust myself to take care of the people around me. I grew so much in the Big Ditch.
And at night, all you get is a strip of stars above you- the walls of the Canyon are so dark that they suck in light. You haven't known dark until you're camped here, and the stars tease you, winking, and if you're lucky, you might get to see a sliver of moon.
More Tenaya Creek at low water- same place my header photo was taken (actually this is looking up the creek instead of where our feet are, which is looking down), but in October. My best friend and I went hiking a few weekends ago, and I didn't realize how much I missed granite.
Rivers up in the Trinity Alps. Don't get me wrong, I love the Sierras. The Trinities have other beauty to them. This was the South Fork Salmon, and wow was it cold. I'm guiding here, on a little 8' drop that was super fun.
Oh yeah, and corsets. If you haven't figured *that* out.
And emergency medicine. And not writing papers. And procrastinating by blogging. And being bratty. And reading anything that's not studying material.
And opening to life.
Strangely, for the amount of intensity that has been coursing through me over the past 3 weeks, I feel extremely grounded.
Just really, really...
Letting the light shine on!
Words from Transitional Times.
- ► 2009 (28)