Where is Our Community?

There seems to be a trend in our American society. In our fast-paced, dispersing, diverse society. Each time a new shooting occurs conversations circle around stupidity, hatred, gun control, mental illnesses. After the most recent events at Sandy Hook I heard a woman say, "Well, he has to be stupid in order to do something like that." We place blame wherever we can see fit, countless reasons to fathom.

We see what is there, but we do not notice what is lacking. And the blame is on each and every one of us, as a nation. We consider those who separate right and wrong as mentally "normal" and people who do these tragic things as just not "fit enough" to handle life's harsh lessons. I, personally, am frustrated with the judgment and hatred we put towards those who commit crimes because we feel we need to defend those who have suffered in ways no person should ever have to.

For each crime that is committed, we are all responsible no matter how physically distant from the act we are. And that is because we are an interconnected community, yet we do not function the way a community should. Really a "community" is a very hypocritical concept in America. Truer acts of this are presently rarely seen in the states.

If we are to be a community then we are held responsible for looking out for one another; our neighbors, friends, family members, local residents, and others further away. We would think about how our wasteful actions affect those downstream. We wouldn't hear a child's parents beating him/her nextdoor and allow it to continue. Cruelty of several kinds would be very difficult to pull of. Accountability would have a greater value to us. But oh how we so desire to live reclusive lifestyles in the beautiful countryside where nobody can judge us for our mistakes. I resonate with the latter concept, and is why I bring it up.

I recently read about an island in Greece(really there are a few in Greece with the same results) that is known for residents experiencing lengthy and healthy lives. One key, among several, was the tight knit community. “Even if you’re antisocial, you’ll never be entirely alone.” (NYT article on Sardinia). It is not just about healthy lives in terms of length, but about how they are living. 

If we were to hold each other accountable imagine how our nation could change. We DO need people to comment on our mistakes. We do need others to see us slip up, laugh with us and allow us to grow without inhibition. There is not a lot of science or research behind the next thought, but if we took these measures I believe there would be less violence, less mental illnesses, less inmates, less elderly forced into nursing homes, less unhappiness, etc. We can do more good as a national community if little by little we set examples for each other. Becoming so close with one another is quite foreign and uncomfortable at first. It means always having someone asking how you are doing, or to go out for a snack and conversation and not just surfacing questions but digging deep into your well being. But it is well worth the initial aggravations. I am very much guilty of taking advantage of introvert behavior rather than seeking out a friend for a laugh or serious talk. And maybe that is our crutch. It is just so easy to find an escape and excuse. We don't like people to say negative things about us, no matter how constructive it may be. But how will we ever grow as people if we don't hear those things? 

Our DNA desires for us to be social. What happens when you put a social animal in a cage by itself? 

Happiness vs. Optimism

Recently I journeyed to the Red River Gorge"ous" to surprise Dan who had been on a brief solo climbing adventure. By the end of the weekend I began reflecting on the dichotomy of  happiness and optimism. They are masked by their abundant similarities to seem as interchangeable terms. But they are different, and very much so.

That weekend I climbed harder routes than I have been able to in just about a year's worth of time. A hand "injury" has held me back for quite some time. Whenever I reached anything at a 5.9 grade or pulled on a hold at just the precise angle, pain would shoot through my hand and radiate. Unexplained it came and went and my spirits toward climbing declined. But I still went outside on occasion. I remained OPTIMISTIC that I still enjoyed being outside, with friends, climbing on fun boulders and routes even if I had to hold back on how much I did. The optimism was there, sometimes quickly fleeting, but the feeling of being beat down lurked beneath the shallow positivity.

The inherent happiness that comes with climbing slowly evaporated away and I found myself asking why I still held on. Climbing reached a point that it no longer made me happy. The weekend I climbed without the hindrance of pain I felt happiness rush back into my soul like a fresh storm. I remembered how to connect with the route and the pure feeling returned of enjoying a beautiful, sunny day filled with friendly strangers and puppies to pet. And with that joy, my optimism lifted without restrain.

Optimism usually follows happiness, but happiness does not always follow optimism.

I see many people who are optimistic. But I wonder if it is because they are happy, or if it is just a mask to hide the questions lingering inside. I wonder if the smiles and laughter come from a deeper place, genuine. Rather is it a facade in an attempt to cover internal chaos?

Sometimes I believe we just need a reminder when the pain has gone away to tell us why we continue on with the decisions we have set for ourselves in life. To remember that there is happiness to be found in our situations.   A cleansing of life and a return to contentment of the raw components of who we are.

Motivation Not to Procrastinate

I have determined that my love of getting to bed before 1 AM outweighs my willingness to procrastinate.

I am even willing to leave my paper without a conclusion until tomorrow so I can go to bed.

Lesson to be learned: get shit done earlier.

Motivation to Climb

Earlier today an epiphany came to me while ending a beautiful afternoon at Rumbling Bald. It was easily 70 with full sunshine. I can count on one hand the number of times I have been bouldering outdoors in the daylight since the Fall semester began. On two hands I can count the number of times I have been climbing period since then. Setbacks resulting for mysterious hand pain have frustrated me, a hefty school load keeps me exhausted with continual work, and pure lack of motivation has kept me from something I use to love doing.

A gorgeous day after Thanksgiving was just the motivation to get out. My guide book was accidentally left in Boone so I had to do without. All of the boulders that I happened to stumble upon were completely new to me and only leftover chalked up holds were left as my directors. I just climbed. Nobody around. Nobody spilling beta vomit. Quiet. Perfect. All the "problems" took a few tries. But there wasn't any way for me to know the grade, and for ultimately the expectations to get into my head. I didn't care. Sheer excitement of these boulders lying just beyond the popular circuit with such creative and fun movments rare to discover kept me pumped to get back on again and again. No hand pain. No sketchy lands. No pushing for my Umpteenth V-Whatever of the month. Quiet. Perfect.

As I fell onto my pad below a chossy boulder where I made friends with a curious, young black rat snake I thought about how I felt toward climbing. About why I have not pushed myself to go to the school gym. This day, like the problems I climbed, was one in few. It was for days like today that I fell in love with climbing. It was being outdoors, in the curves of a mountainside, with no final goals whatsoever except to try what seemed challenging and groovy. There was no way for me to tell the grade of each problem. Not very high, I know for sure. But also no names to drop to people in casual conversation, so that without admitting my grade they instinctively know by nominal association that yes, I did in fact just climb another V-121 (not a real grade if any non-climbers are reading this). It was just climbing. No competition, even friendly. It wasn't for looks and high numbers. It wasn't for building up awesome abs and stellar guns. It was for me. It was to flush out all of the stress build-up from this semester. It wasn't the instigator of the crushing and twisiting of my soul, it was the alleviator.

The way I felt today reminded me of the owners of the two pads I took with me. Mike Aubrey, who lended his crash pad to me before he left for California, steps out the door looking for an adventure everyday. Whenever I think of him I imagine him nonchalantly strolling into the woods with only necessities on his back accepting whatever path falls below his feet. And then Daniel, who is just as excited for someone climbing outside for the first time as he would be for a stranger climbing cruising up every V10 he/she comes upon. He is one of few that can re-ignite my will to give another go after being shut down continuously in a day. Attitudes like those and that I have seen in them and in very few others recently inspires and motivates me to keep pushing through hindrances and doubts.

As a friend told me once, "I'm not going to go crush. I am going to go climb."

End rant.

How To Move to Thailand...

or possibly How Not to Move to Thailand.

I have never planned my own adventure into another country, and Thailand won't be an easy job. Luckily, I won't have to do the planning alone over these next several months. Planning ahead is not really a forte of mine. I am more of the "up and go" on a whim sort of person but when you expect to find a place to live and a job in a country that is thriving on sex trafficking of women (a huge portion of Thailand's GDP), a little bit of planning is probable in decreasing your likelihood of coerced abduction. As my FCC adventure staff director always says: Proper Prior Planning Prevents Piss-Poor Performance.

Here is what I have discovered thus far in the beginning stages of our process to be in Thailand by the end of this summer:

1. Find a reliable site that gives you information on when to apply for a Visa and what type of shots you will be needing. travel.state.gov is good for any general information on countries including entry and exit requirements, and how to prevent yourself from being arrested by the same cops who promote the sex trafficking of naive, young woman travelers. An appreciated service to have. Also, look at the country's embassy site. The one for Thailand is the Royal Thai Embassy.

2. Figure out generally what you want to be doing and begin to look for opportunities in different regions. Often I have become frustrated with the lack of job openings for my field of study, and once and again I threaten to just show up in Thailand and renew the search. In moments of clarification I realize this is a terrible idea. Even be creative. If you have special skills that you may offer a company look into contacting them about providing you the opportunity to come over and help them out. I started making an Excel sheet of National Parks I would be interested in working for in Thailand and Malaysia (just in case) and will one by one look in to each of them.

3. Start saving money now. It is much less expensive to live over there but you never know what kind of shenannigans might happen while abroad. Expect the unexpected is a popular cliche for a purpose.

That's pretty much it so far. More than likely once 3 weeks prior to take-off rolls around I will be completely re-thinking the efficiency of my planning methods. Plans in the near future are to start learning some of the basic words and phrases, and creating a more in-depth plan.

The thrill of adventure is sneaking up on me.

Seasonal Love

I love when the sun hits Autumn's template
And the way a crisp breeze sweeps through the trees
Scattering leaves into the rush of air
And pursuing to meander
Down toward the earth to rest

As the season advances
And the ground begins to firm
I miss the golden rays of light

But I love when lights reflect off the snow
And how gently a bird's tracks imprint on the soft surface
All is placid and whispered
Only the crunch of footsteps,
Or the flapping of waxwings on ashes,
And the call of a chickadee
Ignite the wisps of air with harmonies

As the season advances
And the ground begins to soften
I miss the smell of choke puffing from chimneys

But I love when the buds shimmy heavy ice from the branches
With promise of magnolia blossoms soon to come
As the ease of green washes over the landscape
Painting flesh over the bare bark
Furnishing shelter for the flocks and choruses

As the season advances
And the ground begins to warm
I miss the whisper of intrinsic beginnings

But I love the sounds of bullfrogs along the lake
And lightning bugs glittering the air
Storms cool with a sweet smell of rain
As thunder soothes my soul to rest

As the season advances
And the greens turn to colors again
I miss the laziness of heat and retreating naps in the shade

There's something perfect in this tulip

There is something quite perfect in this tulip. If you see it from a genetic glimpse, then you see where somewhere in it's germination the DNA faltered. This single red petal is caused by a mutation, and the imperfectness causes it to be different from the dozens of yellow tulips that surround it. Yellow tulips can be said to symbolize "bright thoughts." Red tulips "perfect love." Without this mutation there would only be a sea happy thoughts but instead there is a wave of perfect love as well.

Currently I feel an imbalance in my life. Something is not quite right, and my ability to handle changing environments has faltered. I am missing this red/yellow combination that this tulip has that makes it subtly more perfect than the others. It is a perfect balance.

*this photo was taken in Central Park, New York*