Happy 9th Re-Birthday to Me!

Happy 9th Re-Birthday to Me! 

Nine years ago today, I closed the door on the life that I was living. I wasn't certain where my path would lead, but I trusted that by closing the door, another would open. Little did I know that closing that single door would lead to the opening of not just one door, but door-after-door-after-door. Each of those doors led to unexpected places far more wondrous than I could have ever imagined.

Gratitude for My Unborn Baby

I wrote this awhile ago. Every few months, I would reread what I had written, allowing time and introspection to reshape the final paragraph. I knew I wanted to share this, but only when the time was right. The time is now right; the final paragraph needs no further editing.

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At first, I am curious. What is that? Clinging to the end of my tampon is an uncharacteristic glob. Closer inspection reveals a mass of tissue, enclosed in a spotty, translucent gel. Extending from one end appears to be a thin, tapering tail. At its nucleus is an opaque kidney bean-like body, complete with arms, legs, and a disproportionately large head. And then it hits me. And it hits me hard, as if my life has been yanked from my body. Shock stifles my curiosity as I mouth the word: Miscarriage. Indeed a life has been yanked from my body.

My views towards motherhood have changed over the years. I married in my early twenties, right after grad school. My husband and I abided to society's expectations of a newly wedded couple. We landed reputable jobs, bought a comfortable home in the suburbs, and embarked down the path of starting a family. In optimizing our chances to conceive, sex became a pleasureless deed. Day-in and day-out, I was consumed with becoming a mother. I took prenatal vitamins, charted my temperature, determined the days we needed to do the deed, and interpreted every body ache and nose twitch as a sure sign I was pregnant. I even quit my job and started my own business so I could maintain a career while being a stay-at-home mom. For nearly a year, I peed on strips of paper. For nearly a year, those strips showed disheartening flat lines. Shortly thereafter, my relationship with my husband flatlined; we divorced.

Life Lessons From a Convict

Three years ago, I walked 160 miles with a convict. As we took our first steps, he shared his first words: "It took me a long time and most of the world to learn what I know about love and fate and the choices we make, but the heart of it came to me in an instant, while I was chained to a wall and being tortured." We walked our miles in 43 hours over a span of five weeks. During this time, I learned numerous life lessons from the convict. The convict is Gregory David Roberts.

The convict, Gregory David Roberts.
(Image from: www.goodreads.com)

Gregory is the author of Shantaram, a novel that tells the story of a man named Lin. Lin, like Gregory, was a heroin addict and bank robber. Lin, like Gregory, escaped from an Australian prison. Lin, like Gregory, fled to the streets of Mumbai and lived life as a fugitive in the Indian underworld. At a lengthy 944-pages, I opted to listen to the audiobook so I could enjoy the novel while on foot. As I walked miles-and-miles of country roads listening to Lin narrate his story through my earbuds, I came to know and admire Gregory.

Being a Nomad During a Pandemic

As a bibliophile, I've read thousands of books and full well know that books cannot be judged by their covers. Many things, in fact, cannot be judged by their external appearances. That adorable doggie tied up outside the grocery store may have a wicked bark once you reach your hand within biting range. That well-dressed man seated in the driver's seat of that flashy sportscar may be drowning in debt. And that healthy-looking person who seems to be "overly cautious" in this new coronavirus era may not actually be so healthy after all.

This was the topic of an article posted today on CNN.com:

Click the image to read the article.

Ok, so I wasn't really in the article, but I felt as though I could have been. Though I may appear to be a healthy person (a vegetarian! who bikes thousands of miles a year!), like those featured in the article, I am also immunocompromised.

Type II Fun: The Sweet Spot on Two Wheels

Not all fun is the same.

I learned this nearly ten years ago on a climb in the Cascade Mountains. I was having fun -- legitimate fun -- climbing South Early Winter Spire. It was a beautiful day, I was with a group of good friends, and although the climb was challenging, it was well within my abilities. After some time, we came to a part of the route where we needed to traverse "The Whaleback." This rocky spine entailed quite a bit of exposure, something I had not yet experienced. All of the sudden, I was no longer having fun.

Me, about to cross The Whaleback in 2010.

I didn't have time to dawdle, as there were a number of us on the climb, and we still had a long day ahead of us. And so, with little time to muster up courage, I stepped one foot in front of the other and continued to do so until I crossed the narrow spine. Despite my apprehension, I managed The Whaleback just fine. Once I passed this crux, fun returned. In fact, the fun that returned was like fun on ectasy.

Reflections on My Year of Self-Love

Today marks the completion of my Year of Self-Love. Today I reflect on my intention to establish positive life habits that promote the well-being and happiness of my mind, body, and soul.

"Roots hold me close; wings set me free."
This drawing, which I made many moons ago,
represents my embodiment of self-love.

One month before embarking on my Year of Self-Love, I had an ultrasound to monitor the physical manifestation of a disease I've had for more than fifteen years. For the first time in those fifteen years, the ultrasound revealed numerous nodules of a concerning size and questionable constitution. I was certain this disease was attributable to unhealthy coping habits I had developed early on in my life. Given the ultrasound and awareness of my coping habits, I established the motivation for my forthcoming Year of Self-Love: to create healthier habits and to heal my body.

A Year of Self-Love

We spend the majority of our childhood years in school. We learn about math, science, english, and history. Rarely does the curriculum include the skills necessary to function successfully in society and live fulfilling lives -- how to handle finances, how to have healthy relationships, how to communicate effectively, how to manage emotions, how to cope with failure. Most of us spend the majority of our adulthood acquiring these skills. Often we attain these skills by trial-and-error. Rarely do we master them.

I enjoyed school. I was fortunate to develop behaviors that helped me do well, such as typing my papers on a word processor and saying "yes" to opportunities that came my way. While these behaviors helped me ace my classes, they paved the way for the development of unhealthy habits later in life -- perfectionism and people-pleasing, to name a few. Eventually these habits, coupled with relentless societal stresses, became toxic.

I think often about my life story. I wonder how it might be different had I learned about self-love alongside my calculus and physics classes. I would have learned about identifying my personal values and setting priorities aligned with those values. I would have learned about focusing on the things that are important to me and letting other things go. I would have learned about self-awareness and being true to myself in my interactions with others. I would have learned about listening to my body.

What I've learned about self-love has mostly been acquired in the last few years. As I've been working to shake my bad habits, I've been realizing just how much I beat myself up all those years. I want to heal what those years of stress have done to my body. I know I can't unravel the damage that has been done, but I can decide to live my life differently moving forward.

A Write-Up in the Tobacco Valley News

You may recall from Cycling the Great Parks North & Great Divide Loop that I stayed with a Warm Showers host in Eureka, Montana named Nikki. At the end of my cycling trip, Nikki, who is a journalist with Tobacco Valley News, interviewed me for an article in the paper.

Here is the write-up, reprinted with permission. (Click on the button in the upper right-hand corner to view a larger version of the article.)



How fun to be interviewed for a newspaper -- a first for me! Thanks for a great write-up, Nikki!

Housesitting in Bellingham: A Photo Journal

I spend a majority of my time alternating between traveling and housesitting. While I greatly enjoy my travels, I look forward to my housesits as an opportunity to hunker down in one place, recharge my batteries, catch up on life logistics, and prepare for my next bout of travels.

I spent the months of April and May housesitting in Bellingham, about 90 miles north of Seattle. I watched over a large property in the country and took care of five kitties who lived on the property. I relished in the solitude, nature, and peace that country living proffers.

I settled into a nice daily routine -- yoga first thing in the morning, followed by a run, a bike ride, or a walk, an afternoon of being either entirely productive or productively leisurely, and a three-mile round-trip walk after dinner merely so I could smell the lilacs (and later the roses) at the end of a nearby road. I also spent a lot of time Bathing in the Forest, noticing the tiny details in nature (the tadpoles growing fatter and fatter each day) as well as the more macro ones (the snow melting on the nearby peaks as green filled in the trees). There were days that passed when I didn't talk to anyone except for myself and the kitties.

Exploring the Country

It was a 20-mile roundtrip bike ride to and from the grocery store.
I didn't mind the ride, especially since I got to see this
dreamy view of Mt Baker every time I approached the property.

Boxes & Boundaries

Boxes and boundaries. We've all got 'em.

Our boxes contain our current capabilities, comfort zones, thoughts, and beliefs. As it is often just outside of our boxes that we grow physically, mentally, and spiritually, we are encouraged to "think outside of the box," "push beyond our comfort zones," or as my yoga teacher says, "play the edge."

Our boundaries, on the other hand, are limits we set for ourselves. They are established as a means of self-protection and should be reverently respected.

Boxes & boundaries.

I've spent a lot of my time focusing on my boxes -- growing them, and, in turn, growing me. It's only in the last few years I've turned my attention towards my boundaries.

On Quitting Versus Adjusting Sails

I was called a quitter for bowing out early on my Baja trip. (As you may recall, from Reflections on My Baja Trip, I left Baja a month early, after having pedaled only 600 of the route's 1700 miles.) I felt ashamed for quitting, for not sticking with the ride. After all, I had invested quite a bit of time and energy planning the trip. Plus, I had spent a good chunk of change outfitting myself with the appropriate bike and gear. Fortunately, the feelings of guilt lasted only a few short seconds.

I hadn't quit; I had adjusted my sails.

Sailing with Jake on Bonne Vie in March 2014.

The word "quitting" carries with it a deeply negative connotation. A quitter gives up easily because he or she doesn't have the strength, courage, or determination to keep pushing on and seeing a task through to completion.

Reflections on My Patagonia Trip

My trip to Patagonia ended seven weeks ago. As with all my travels, I have spent time reflecting on the trip.

In Reflections on My Turkey Trip: What I Learned About Myself, I compared life experiences to the tiles in a mosaic. Just as tiles are combined to create a unique picture or pattern, our experiences combine to create a mosaic of our unique selves. And just as a mosaic becomes clearer with a greater density of tiles, our true selves become more apparent as we acquire more life experiences.

The individual tiles in this mosaic are photos from the Patagonia trip.
You may wish to enlarge the image to fully appreciate the mosaic.

The Patagonia trip added more and more tiles to the mosaic of my life. Though some of these experiences confirmed what I already knew, others revealed new insights about Patagonia, Chile, and myself.

My New Year's Tradition

For the last ten years, I've been partaking in a special New Year's tradition. The tradition doesn't involve fireworks, staying up past midnight, or half-hearted resolutions. Instead, my tradition involves retrospection, letting go of the past, and setting intentions for the future.

While I'm generally not one who celebrates holidays, I appreciate the changing of the year as an arbitrary time to examine my life. Near the end of every year and before the beginning of the next, I set aside uninterrupted time, pour myself a warm cup of tea, and settle into a comfy chair under a cozy blanket. I have with me a writing utensil and two sheets of paper -- one is labeled with the current year and the other with the upcoming year.

Ingredients for a Tenday

Recently, I've been noticing myself thinking: "Today is a tenday."

"What is a tenday?," you ask.

Well, for starters, I should clarify that the term is my own device. I never intended to create the word; I just started using it.

Now, imagine a scale that ranges from 1 to 10. At the far left of the scale is the 1, which represents "not-so-hot." At the far right of the scale is the 10, which represents "flippin' fantastic." Given that scale, a "tenday" is used to describe a day that is a 10.

"Today is a tenday."
Coming across the words of Mary Oliver, chalked on the front steps of a home.

For the record, I experience sevendays. And fivedays. And occasionally, though rare, onedays as well. After all, it's very much part of the human experience to have ups and downs in life.

Transcending

I recently came across a poem that fails to escape my mind.

"Drawing Hands" by M.C. Escher.
(http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Drawing_Hands)

Transcending

Escher got it right.
Men step down and yet rise up,
the hand is drawn by the hand it draws,
and a woman is poised
on her very own shoulders.

Panning for Gold

You need to pan to find the gold.

When I first quit my job, I made a mind map of interests I wanted to pursue.

A skinnied down version of my mind map.
(Some of the map is not for public consumption;
refer to "Guarding My Intentions.")

Once I started investing large chunks of time tackling these interests, I noticed that exploring my interests led to even more interests. The panning led to riches, and so my mind map grew.

But the explorations revealed that some of my supposed interests weren't really interests after all. In these cases, the panning yielded pebbles, and these pebbles were tossed by the wayside.

What I've Been Up To

I've had a handful of inquiries in the last few months asking what I've been up to. In my last post, I wrote about guarding my intentions. And so it may come as no surprise that I've been somewhat aloof in responding to the inquiries.

Here's what I've been up to (read as "here's what I'm willing to share at this point in time"):

• I've been housesitting.
• I've been working on a teaching gig.
• I've been volunteering.
• I've been working a fun job.
• I've been vetting some opportunities that I've decided not to pursue.
• I've been absorbing inspiration.
• I've been scheming up my next bicycle adventure.

In the forthcoming posts, I'll share more about each of the above.

Guarding My Intentions

I guard my intentions. My ideas. My plans. I shield them from everything that has the potential to harm them.

You may have already made this observation about me. You may have noticed that when you ask what I've been up to, I am vague or dismissive.

I've lost one so-called friend because of my guarded intentions. This "friend" viewed my vagueness and dismissiveness as a lack of trust. It's not a matter of trust for me. It's a matter of appreciating that undeveloped ideas and plans are terribly beloved and frail.

I keep my intentions to myself until I have a high degree of confidence that they are robust enough to flourish on their own.

Out of Office

You may have noticed the "Out of Office Notice" I posted on Facebook last week:

I had posted many Out of Offices for my career life. Admittedly, last week was the first time I ever posted an Out of Office for my personal life.

Piercings & Doin' It

(Fear not, Mom, I have no new piercings.)
(Fear not, the rest of you, this is a G-rated post.)

Two and a half years ago, I got a body modification. In Ayurvedic medicine, the modification is made to a part of the body that represents the female reproductive organ, and the procedure is intended to enhance childbirthing abilities. In contemporary western medicine, the modification is made to the "protuberance that houses...the nares" (thank you, Wiki), and the procedure is performed purely for cosmetic reasons, typically resulting in infection and regret.