Nature! And Little Lost Cove

**I wrote this on the boonebeta.webs.com blog, which everyone should totally check out if you are a climber in the Boone area. But here it is on here just for memory's-sake.**

What a perfect day to get outside and climb today! Daniel and I headed to Lost Cove late in the afternoon on a last minute whim but it was such great timing.

This was my first time down to Little Lost Cove, so of course I had a brief run through of the most of the problems and it's cool to see the things that I've heard people talking so much about and projecting. Props to you all for the sweet moves you've made on those! That's some challenging stuff for sure.

I don't think the area could have made any better of a first impression. The view was amazing and the sun aimed perfectly on distant cliffs from the car as we left. The sun shone cooly and there were streams all over the place leftover from the rains Friday night. I felt like I was in a jungle with diverging pools appearing from under huge boulders and looping around them to reconnect and continue down the mountain.

Majority of the problems were dry but Daniel's pad did get a bit wet from having to inevitably lay it down in the streams. By far my favorite problem we worked today (and that Daniel crushed) was a little beta tricky at first. I don't know what it is but it's across from Matt's Prow in that corner where the two boulders meet. It's a low start, out right to a little bit small than a tennis ball sized pocket, out left, and then we figured out that you bump your left on this small ledge and match the right onto then bump straight up to a jug, another jug out right, then top out. I am terrible at expaining problems but if anyone has an idea let me know!

Also, I got to do some geeking out at the amazing wildflowers in bloom today. Upon looking them up I discovered that we found a Large-Flowered Bellwort (as my guidbook calls it) or Uvularia grandiflora. It's leaves look as though they've been peeled back to reveal a yellow, bell-shaped flower that hangs down and is part of the Lily family. We also saw several Cut-Leaved Toothworts(Cardamine concatenata), which have very distinctly shaped leaves and white flowers, and is a part of the mustard family. Apparently if you see pink flowers it is much more rare. Both flowers can be seen here and here. And to top it off we caught a couple of salamanders!! Always fun. They were either Seal salamanders or Duskies. Both look similar. Darn amphibians.

So remember!: If you go out climbing or bouldering respect nature but enjoy it and play in it! If you want to catch salamanders or other amphibious creatures make sure to have dirty and moist hands so they can continue to exchange gases. Interacting with more than just the rocks makes climbing trips better just when you thought it couldn't!!

First 10a lead!

I am too good at procrastination. It is a skill that school has taught me well.

So yesterday, in the midst of ominous winds and increasingly darkening clouds, a couple of us went to the Dump (a small, local crag) to get some climbing in. We warmed up on a 5.6; a climb that Melise first taught me how to lead on and a pretty fun warm-up. Andrew lead Homegrown, a 10a and a climb I've only top roped twice before.

As he climbed I contemplated leading it, or keeping it safe to just top rope it again. I have never been able to climb it without falling and the idea of falling above my last draw was pretty scary.

<---this is me on toprope on Homegrown back in the late fall. It was mildly chilly that day.

So I was convinced eventually to lead it, without having to clip the first draw because I would have been really sketched out by it and would have just turned my back to the entire idea. But I did it! And was completely shocked by it. I mean, I knew I could finish the climb but part of me always wonders how much of toproping is me climbing and how much is the person belaying me keeping me too tight and therefore basically aiding me up the wall. What a perfect first hard lead! Slabby at points, balancy, tiny little rare crystal crimpers (which for some reason I love). I did take a baby whipper. But it actually wasn't bad.

I am ready for the Gunks, which is next weekend ahhhhh!! It may rain, but hopefully it will hold off in New York. I am excited to have an awesome travel/climbing partner plus the promise of staying with Katie and Dustin, who are super strong climbers themselves.

Stoked.

Kleptomaniac of the Toilet Paper Kind

I admit it. I steal toilet paper on a weekly basis from the 1st floor of Rankin Science and sometimes the 3rd floor of the library. I say they pretty much beg you to. They wouldn't just leave it out in the open if they didn't want people to make good use of it than just wiping their bums.

For example, I had a constant supply of tissue when I had my sinus infection a few weeks ago.

Two weeks ago I spilled coffee all over my notebook in class, and had an immediate dabber to dry it up.

Don't you hate those moments when you are using the bathroom to realize that there is no toilet paper left? Not a problem if you have a roll that you carry with you at all times.

I know there are more people out there that do it than just me, so don't pretend like it's not a good idea. Though I'd have to say it's not for those who desire quality out of their toilet paper. But if you want to save a few bucks a month or two and have a college campus readily available to you then lose that pride and snatch a couple of rolls!

Yes, I do realize this is a pointless blog entry.

And I do feel like I have been talking to myself the entire time.

But the last couple of entries have been deeply serious. So here's to living senselessly!

"There's a better home awaiting...

...in the sky, Lord, in the sky." Will the Circle Be Unbroken

You should never leave a situation wishing you had reached out to someone, or even allowed them to reach out to you. You should seize chances to get to know people you are working with and who are a part of something that is big in your life.

Unfortunately I have left a lot of people in my life like this. I have left them in the background of moments that have been an integral part of me. Those people are important to me because I will remember them as key pieces to creating these monents. But did I get to know these people? Do I know their dreams? their passions? what makes them laugh? what pisses them off?

To a dear friend, Jimmy Lewis, I am sorry that I left you as one of these people. You stood out with your humor and charisma. I permitted being shy to get the best of me and I never opened up to create memories with you. But you were a Blackfoot, and last summer I had the chance to be one as well and I believe that connects us. Your knowledge of the woods and ability to allow boys to gain that same appreciation for the outdoors extended into last summer. I was asked all the time where you were and what you were up to and, "Last year, Jimmy one time..." I admired a lot of things about you, but I am sorry that I could never gain that friendship to tell you the good things about you and to laugh at your sarcastic and crazy humor.

We watch people fall out of our lives through death, or disconnection, or from a fight. And we allow them to leave, and sometimes way too easily do we allow them to leave. This is one of my greatest vices. I have let so many go when distance parts us. Don't let this happen. Don't ever regret letting someone slip.

I light a Falling Creek candle in your honor tonight, Jimmy. Rest peacefully.

Surviving Pseudo-City Life on the AppalCart

There are some people in this small town that are fortunate enough that they can walk to campus or downtown in order to enjoy fesitivities. Others live further away, but perhaps still easy biking distance. And still others live just outside that comfort walking/biking zone. At the beginning of the year I was willing to overcome waking up and biking in the sunrise in order to get to campus. Being independent of the AppalCart is a fantastic feeling. You avoid the compacted nature of everyone stiffly and awkwardly attempting to fit in together like we are the cream filling of a twinkie, where the bus is the twinky and we are the filling but not as tasty or nearly as creamy.

But winter has caused me to be lazy and I am pretty sure the extended number of days that my bike was underneath inches of snow has caused some damage to my bike chains. So I've been riding the bus. Even just thinking about the bus as I walk down our apartment hill to the stop makes my heart beat a little quicker and I get really anxious and fidgety. If there were two things that I would be okay living without it would be crowded small spaces and lines. Of course nobody likes either of those things but my extreme distaste for them is more correctly defined as abhorrence, loathing, if crowds and lines were a magnet we'd all be norths...that is to say we'd repel each other. But as I said, I have become quite lazy and my backpack so full it would be as if I were riding a bike with a bear on my back in some circus stunt.

My feet don't touch the ground comfortably when I sit and I can't reach the overhang bar when I stand. If I am not fighting an overwhelming feeling of nausea I am whapping some poor unfortunate person with my overweight backpack. Today alone I fell over once, and then thrusted my chest into a girl's face while trying to move so a guy could get to the exit. I've chased after two buses simultaneously in a dress and missed them both. I've ran to catch up to a bus, thought I was near the "oh hey there is a girl about to get on" zone, and had the bus leave as I was walking up to it-three times. The Express Route that I take home runs by a certain point at :57 after which just seems to be the exact time I reach it, or if I am unlucky enough just miss it.

I have had a few fortunate times where I make it to the stop right as the bus arrives and I feel that I have gained some feat over the system that seems to so flagrantly be trying to leave me behind. And sometimes at the right point in the evening I am one of few on the bus, and it is raining and cold, and I am warm and alone with the seat that has a hump so I can perch my feet. It feels like I should be in a scene of a movie where a lonely girl rides the bus across the country in order to find herself and she is gazing out of the water-dropped windown deeply into the horizon as the bus takes off down urban roads. But really I am in Boone and only riding for 10 minutes to a place that is 2 miles away. Reality is not as epic.

What do I take from this? I would probably die if I lived in a big city. My lacking in "street smart" and bus savvy would have me lost for hours, days, or months!

***on an unrelated side note: I am starting to feel the pressure of my classe weighing oh so heavily down on me. It wouldn't be too bad if my tests were at least spread out. How have I been handling this chaos of events occurring through the nerves in my brain? I have been secretly harboring an envious annoyance with people who are getting to skip classes or do not have anything else they need to do but go outside and climb or hike. Oh, I'd love to. But I have three tests and a midterm next week and for the first time in my life I think I need a tutor. I'm not coping as well as I'd like.

Valentine Jubilee

Currently I am really suppose to be in Evolutionary Biology. Instead I am sitting in the apartment listening to Elijah Bossebroek, drinking peppermint tea flavored with dark chocolate, with a heating pad on me belly. It is excellent.

With Valentine's Day creeping it's curly haired Cupid little cherubim head around the weekend corner I can't help but to think about where I was two years ago from this Feb. 14. In high school, Valentine's Day marked the beginning of a much anticipated soccer season (and candy). In college I just dreaded it and looked forward to eating the candy. Pretty sure I spent last Valentine's Day alone in my dorm room eating, you guessed it, candy and watching the movie "Valentine's Day". Super.

But if you want to hear about how I really feel about the day, go to my other blog. This blog is for the one true week that I took off from school and went on a mission trip with a small group to Honduras. I wrote about the trip in a blog that I use to have and have since abandoned. So this is a copy/paste and slightly edited version of what I wrote 2 years ago:

How do I place 8 days of something purely awesome into just a journal entry? I have pages and pages of thoughts in my journal I took with me to Honduras. Unfortunately (but really not unfortunate at all), about 2/3 of the pages in my notebook were ripped about to supply Noe and I with coloring paper and prescription paper for Doctor Marcus. I know I have overlooked several thoughts and emotions that were once fresh and alive in my mind and now quiety lounge back in my brain somewhere. Every now and again those rush of emotions will re-appear as nostalgia will one day hit me.

I left for Honduras on Valentine's Day. I wouldn't have wanted to express love in any other way. Other than two 10-year old kids, I was the youngest in a group of 5 with four men from their 30s to 60s. I felt just a little out a place. Just a little. The most spirttually immature of the group (besides Junior and Patience) and the most naive in the ways of the world and missions. This was my first medical related service trip and I have had to adjust my personal views of "missioning" for lack of a better words, to cater to this specific trip. In most cases, I would say we should go in to create a way for the people to eventually be independent of our presence in their community. But medical missions is a different case. It is a constant need that cannot be healed by occasional trips throughout the year via churches supporting CMCH (the organization we went through). It demands constant funding for medications and delivering aid to the communities in the mountains that are more deprived and remote. A trip to Tauble for these people is half a day there and back, if one can find a ride.

I also learned about myself and my future goals and confusions with pursuing either the medical or ecological field. Being set in a place so tropical and ecologically rich, and seeing it so trashed with wastes throughout each village made such an impact on my views. I spent a larger portion of my thoughts about ways to organize trash pick-ups within the communities and education on the importance of keeping water sources clean. Honestly very little of it was spent on the medical service at hand. Although the extent of my wildlife experiences there were the large venues of vultures, what may have been a king snake, a bat cave, and the nocturnal croaks of geckos, I got excited about exploring forests higher up and discovering what kind of biodiversity Honduras could offere and how I could use that to improve their conditions; medically and economically.

They were irreplaceable. They were kind and patient with my very basic conversational Spanish. They hugged and smiled and made you feel as if this was your home. And I did feel as if I were home. The combination of mountains and the simplicity of life overwhelmed me. Sitting on the front porch with Martha's family around me, Armando playing in the dirt, I felt like I fit. There was the appreciation of everything offered in life and the unsurpassing beauty that surrounded and embedded into me. Their love for God is adamant. Every statement praising God was followed by "Allelujiah!" and "Dios te bendiga" was welcomed with a true gratitude and "Amen."

I was frustrated at frist. Within CMCH there seems to be disagreements and a dire need to refocus. Just within our small group, that was formed by 3 separate NC churches, there were disputes and questions on the right way to mission to the people of the villages we visited. I began to question with so many different faiths how do we know the right way we can truly love and show love? How do we allow others to let us in so we know truly what is best and not what we think is best? It weighed heavily on me throughout one of the days and then Yobanny preached that night in Ocoman. The grace of Ocoman swept over me in the day as well as at night. Up high in elevation I felt as if I was in a crystal globe looked up at the stars that arched overhead. Yobanny preached (the entirety in Spanish) repeating several times, "Quien puede parar el amor del Cristo?" (Who can stopl the love of Christ?) And his words there and following his sermon spread through my entire body instantaneously. I could literally feel it. It doesn't matter to worry about how we can show love. If we simply allow ourselves to and with a transparent heart, then love will be evident and it will illuminate. A burden lifted off. I could already see it in the people we met in Honduras. Martha, whom I had only talked with briefly even had a tone of love and joy in her voice when she spoke. The way she smiled at me while I played with Armando and Blanca, and invited me to Blanca's birthday party after only meeting me once, and preparing a meal for us after leading us with her family to the coolest cave ever. It every action she had love beaming right through. This was the same for so many others.

Why can't we feel that here? How do I come back to the United States and somewhat lose that sense of compassion for each other? Love is perverted here. We are mindful to express emotion and care for one another. I am soooo guilty of that. I want to work on my own expression of love and not to fear to love unconditionally. Reciprocated feelings don't matter, we just need to 100% care for each other!

We reached over 300 people in the 3 areas where we opened up a clinic in. It required a lot of medicine and more was needed. I was ambushed at one point for toothbrushes and toothpaste. Let me repeat that...toothbrushes...and toothpaste. I was mauled by 60 kids who were so proud to have one of their choice color and to sweetly ask to get some for their more timid siblings. Children without teeth even held out their hand for one! It was incredible.

I love how God is creative. The way He works is mysterious. It has never ceased to boggle my mind no matter what spiritual level I am at. And I absolutely adore his artwork. Sunsets and sunrises, mountains, vegetation, rivers and waterfalls, every piece of nature. These are my favorite things: creativity and overwhelming beauty of overlooking a village from the top of a mountain in another country and feeling right at home.

Secret Birthday not so Secret Anymore

February 6, 2008:
"Hello?"
"Courtney, hey! How are you doing?"
"I'm alright, how are you?"
"Not bad. I heard about Caroline's mom and I wanted to call you and see if you're doing okay."
"Oh. Yeah. I am alright thanks. I think I am going home tomorrow. I appreciate your call."
"Absolutely. Just let me know if you or Caroline need anything."
"Thanks, again and I will let you know. Bye."

As I hung up the phone I thought to myself, "She didn't wish me a happy birthday." That was when narcissism slapped me in the face. No, it didn't just slap me, I was knocked breathless by it. As soon as the thought dissipated, even for as brief as it felt, I wondered how I could even care what day it was when one of the people I shared Epworth by the Sea, hill excursions, and Salkehatchie memories with had just lost her mom only 24 hours before.

In the months before my mom had been keeping me in constant update of Susan's health. As soon as she knew something I knew. Once and again Caroline and I would touch base but we did not talk about how she was feeling much of the time. She was still a senior in high school and I was a freshman at GC and we were separated by 3 hours and busy schedules. I often looked to her and stood back in amazement at how completely understanding, calm, and strong she and her entirely family were. By January, Susan's months had turned into just weeks, and soon those to only days. My heart sank when I received an online message from Caroline revealing all the fears that a daughter would experience from losing a parent. Only a year ago had she held me late into the night as I cried. She said to me then, "I wish I could carry the pain for you." It was when I received that message that I discovered what she had meant that night. I wanted so badly to take that hurt off of her shoulders. She was carrying more weight as the oldest sister than anyone could see. As my birthday drew closer, and Susan's health declined, my friends would ask what I wanted for my birthday and I had no material possession in mind.

I wanted a reverse of events. I wanted for a miracle. For her to get better. For somehow her declination to abruptly stop and her cancer to be swept away. I had seen her just a couple of weeks before she passed and even though she was tired, she still smiled bright and genuinely to ask me about school and life. It was inspirational. That is how she was. Inspirational and determined.

February 5, 2008:
I was at a small concert for one of GC's events with my friend Tony. Mom called on my phone and I knew she was relaying more news. Susan had passed away and I sank to the ground, hidden behind a column. Back in my dorm room I read aloud portions Lamentations 3 to a couple of friends that were with me.

"I have been deprived of peace;
I have forgotten what prosperity is...
I remember my affliction and my wandering,
the bitterness and the gall.
I well remember them, and my sould is downcast within me.
Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope:
Because of the Lord's great love we
are not consumed,
for his compassions never fail.
They are new every morning.
Great is your faithfulness."

Susan was countless number of things to hundreds of people. She was loved as an elementary school teacher, as a co-worker, as the Pastor's wife and active member of the church and community, as a friend, mother, and so on. Susan played several roles and she played them with every bit that was embedded and instilled in her. Her death was also several things for different people. For me, it re-defined a day: my birthday. It has become a day that I do not want to celebrate for myself. I want to do something for another person, or withdraw myself from my everyday lifestyle and reflect. I have attempted this the past couple of years and it somewhat gets backfired. This year, I have it all planned. Initially, I wanted to disappear all day (which is a Sunday) and keep the whole thing secret until after February 6 was over. But as I masterminded the entire day I came to the realization that if I do not share what I learned from Susan's death, then what was the purpose of learning it at all?

So here I am, encouraging everyone to find a day of the year. One day. And commit it to doing something for the betterment of this world. Do it for someone you knew and loved, or do it for yourself.

I am still disappearing for a few hours on Sunday but I am no longer keeping it a secret. So here is my super secret day, don't tell anyone...

*Wake up and watch the sunrise on the Parkway and take pictures. Write. Reflect. And allow myself to become completely absorbed in the moment.
*@ 11 I have an orientation to start volunteering at the Hospitality House in downtown Boone. I think I also will get to begin actively volunteering that same day.
*After that, I dunno. Soccer, short walk, reading and coffee in Beanstalk. I'm not sure. But I do have a meeting at 6 so I can't take up too much time.

I invite you with me.