BBQ

... And here is my massive pulled pork sandwich and Bells Amber Ale I just scarfed down. Life is good.

ObsESSed with the MisWESt

I'm back in Grand Rapids, and once again am encamped with the life here. I arrived early, worked from the hotel for a couple hours, then went on my ritualized run around the city. This week there's a big art festival in town called Art Prize - truly impressive amount of art, all for the public to see and vote on. I talked to a coupe old(er) ladies about a quilt that was carved out of wood, and witnessed a few people make impressions in the life-size pin push thing (or whatever it's called... See the photo).

It's just a bunch of people - from families to hipsters - all enjoying the evening together. The small town reminds me of Durham. So does the friendliness. I... Love it.

At Peace, Balanced, and Ready as All Hell to Tackle What Comes Next

I'm back from the wilderness.  I'll post photos and maybe some thoughts later, but for now, here are three quotes that do a pretty damn good job of expressing how I feel right now.

Why don't you stay in the wilderness?  Because that isn't where it is at; it's back in the city, back in downtown St. Louis, back in Los Angeles.  The final test is whether your experience of the sacred in nature enables you to cope more effectively with the problems of people.  If it does not enable you to cope more effectively with the problems - and sometimes it doesn't, it sometimes sucks you right out into the wilderness and you stay there the rest of your Life - then when that happens, by my scale of value; it's failed.  You go to nature for an experience of the sacred...to re-establish your contact with the core of things, where it's really at, in order to enable you to come back to the world of people and operate more effectively.  Seek ye first the kingdom of nature, that the kingdom of people might be realized.  

- Willi Unsoeld.  Outward Bound instructor, and the man who "held the rope" while the first American summited Mt. Everest

One final paragraph of advice: Do not burn yourself out. Be as I am-a reluctant enthusiast... a part time crusader, a half-hearted fanatic. Save the other half of yourselves and your lives for pleasure and adventure. It is not enough to fight for the land; it is even more important to enjoy it. While you can. While it is still there. So get out there and mess around with your friends, ramble out yonder and explore the forests, encounter the grizz, climb the mountains. Run the rivers, breathe deep of that yet sweet and lucid air, sit quietly for a while and contemplate the precious stillness, that lovely, mysterious and awesome space. Enjoy yourselves, keep your brain in your head and your head firmly attached to your body, the body active and alive, and I promise you this much: I promise you this one sweet victory over our enemies, over those deskbound people with their hearts in a safe deposit box and their eyes hypnotized by desk calculators. I promise you this: you will outlive the bastards. 

- Edward Abbey 

I have come to the frightening conclusion
that I am the decisive element.
It is my personal approach that creates the climate.
It is my daily mood that makes the weather.
I possess tremendous power to make a life miserable or joyous.
I can be a tool of torture or an instrument of inspiration.
I can humiliate or humor, hurt or heal.
In all situations, it is my response that decides
whether a crisis will be escalated or de-escalated
and a person humanized or dehumanized.
If we treat people as they are, we make them worse.
If we treat people as they ought to be,
we help them become what they are capable of becoming.

- Johann Wolfgang von Goethe 

And for good measure, let's throw in some of my boy Josh Ritter's rhythm and lyrics.  Ritter is from small-town Idaho who really captures the West, expansiveness, and optimism.

Into the Wild...

I’m sitting at Ristorante Pantuso, “Grand Junction’s finest Italian, est. 1958.”  I took a walk around the restaurant, wondering if any of these people are on my Outward Bound trip that starts tomorrow.  I could probe and find out, but right now I want to reflect.

Tomorrow I will do this.  From spending exactly three nights camping in my entire life to spending 9 days hiking, camping, canyoneering, and bouldering… this will be a new adventure.  I signed up for this trip a few months ago with some pretty simple intentions: learn how to camp, visit the Southwest (an area I’ve never been to, and have been craving).  Above all, I wanted an adventure.  Honestly I only have a vague notion of what “canyoneering” is.  I’ve been telling people that it’s like the movie 127 Hours with James Franco where he gets trapped by himself in a slot canyon and has to cut his arm off.  Turns out that’s exactly where I’m going – to the area where  that movie was filmed.  I wasn’t going to bring a knife, but before I left this morning I thought “hm, what IF I get stuck and have to saw off my hand.  Better bring a knife.”  So I did – and paid the $35 baggage fee for the privilege.

I woke up this morning feeling nervous.  In the weeks leading up to today, my life has revolved around getting the right gear, which has been one massive pain.  I think I’ve made – no joke – about 10 trips to Sports Basement and REI to try on boots, find the right long underwear, etc.  Half of those visits could have been avoided by some swift decision-making on my part.  I’m very ready to actually use this gear I bought instead of having serious buyer’s remorse about all the expensive new things I now own.  So… I was nervous this morning.  Partly because I still haven’t shaken a head cold from a week ago, and I don’t want to start off hiking tomorrow being sick.  But the other part… I guess I was nervous about the unknown.  Namely, what the hell is canyoneering???  

I worked all day while flying from SFO to DEN to Grand Junction, but once I touched down, felt the 90-degree dry 6:00pm heat, and chatted up the shuttle driver, it all came back.  Waiting outside of the airport in Grand Junction, I looked around, smiled to myself, and remembered why I’m here, and why I seek these types of adventures: the rush of meeting new people from all over, of seeing brand new terrain like the ridiculous rock formations surrounding Grand Junction, the feeling of freedom and newness mixed with anticipation, nerves and excitement.  I very much feel alive in these moments.  I feel bold, but also vulnerable to what the next moment might bring – undoubtedly something unknown, but something to be anticipated.  It’s simply a rush.

I’ve recently been asking myself some big questions – more than usual.  Life has blessed me with a number of opportunities, friends, and experiences.  But still I’m asking myself what is it all about?  I am under no illusion that 10 days in the desert will answer these questions.  Yes, at my core I crave an epiphany – whenever or wherever it may come in life.  Those older than I have told me that this epiphany might not exist.  Rather, I should live in the moment and appreciate the journey.  I agree with this sentiment – very much so.  The journey is beautiful, and it’s real.  I remember my favorite reading in high school was Thornton Wilder’s Old Town, which was about the little things in life – small town life – that make life worth living.  My dream evening would be to walk down the driveway of my grandparents’ house in rural Tennessee on a summer evening and just listen to what’s around.  Yes, I want to live in the moment.  But that still doesn’t stop from wanting a big epiphany, and I’m probably not alone in that sentiment.   But I digress…

So, this is the state of mind in which I’ll disconnect from the world tomorrow.  There are many, many things to look forward to over the next 10 days.  Getting to know a (hopefully) diverse group of people is high on the list.  But I think the thing I’m looking forward to the most is to experience – to be a part of the sublimity (and beauty!) of nature.  I want to feel small in the face of unconquerable canyons.  I want to really FEEL this.  

Walking in the desert, I imagine there will be long periods of silence.  What will I think about?  Hopefully nothing, except to feel and be part of what’s around me.  Just to stop all the thoughts in my mind… THAT is what I really want.  I have no idea how to do this, but I hope it comes to me.

Plus I just really want to sleep outdoors.

Perhaps I’m idealizing what will happen, but I remember feeling something similar when I hiked in Brazil last summer.  Which reminds me, here are a few old blog posts I’ve made at the beginning of previous adventures:

Before leaving for Europe, pre-business school (and first blog post ever)

Before business school

Asia trip

First thoughts on SF

Before Brazil

Thoughts on Brazil hiking, lessons of appreciation

Ok, it’s time to turn off my computer and truly disconnect.  I just downed a whole bunch of Italian food, and just ordered a big tiramisu because hey… I’m going to burn off every calorie anyways.  Why not indulge?  

One last thing… I brought the book Into the Wild on the trip with me.  It’s my first attempt at reading a book twice.  The book blew me away the first time I read it, and really described how nature always wins.  I remember feeling a sense of awe for nature after reading the book, which I think is close to what I’ll feel this week (maybe!).  Anyway, I leave you with a quote from Tolstoy via Into the Wild that resonated with me.  Perhaps I'll feel this after advenduring is over.

"I have lived through much , and now I think I have found what is needed for happiness. A quiet secluded life in the country, with the possibility of being useful to people to whom it is easy to do good, and who are not accustomed to have it done to them; then work which one hopes may be of some use; then rest, nature, books, music, love for one's neighbor-such is my idea of happiness." - Tolstoy

A way to end it

Not bad is it? 6 pm on labor day. Hike in the morning with friends, burger with josh moore, REI for the LAST time ever. Shaved my beard in anticipations of growing a mountain man beard white shortly.

Subsequent blog posts will have some substance. But this day was about "moments". Food ones.

I went to church today

For the first time that I can remember as an adult, I went to a church service by myself.  Why did I go?  Part of it is my parents - they encourage me, but don't force it by any means.  When times are tough, the answer of "it might be helpful to find a church" is sometimes given as advice.  The other reason is that I had time, for once.  I could always make time, but with Labor Day coming up and my fourth consecutive weekend without having to work (a minor miracle that I dearly hope continues, and one that I'm determined to continue as much as possible), I had the emotional space for something else in my life.

I had seen the church in the Cow Hollow neighborhood on the 22 bus route a few times and thought that it was a small, kind-looking church.  Sometimes you can just tell, and I was right.  After the informal Sunday-evening service, the choir guy (choir director?) came up to me because I was obviously new.  He had family from Alabama, so we connected a bit.  Some of the parishioners had recently been to Bayou Le Batre, Alabama to do hurricane relief work, too.  I admit, it did feel like home when I saw the familiar old "The Episcopal Church Welcomes You" sign outside and heard familiar songs and prayers.  This church certainly has a San Francisco flair - the short sermon was about how there are two Christianities these days - one that believes that acts of service are what defines a good Christian, and another - "a little to the east and the south of the country," according to the priest, that holds up purity and rules as the way to serve God.  This quip about the Southeast wasn't made in any overly-judgmental way, but I noted it and had a "I'm not in Alabama anymore" moment.

There were about 20 people at the service.  A couple who was probably homeless also joined.  The priest asked if anyone needed any special blessings (we were all standing up in a circle at this point), and the husband asked for prayers to help his wife and him because they had faced tough times. We all put our hands on the couple and the priest said a prayer.  I was touched, and I think the couple was too.

Where does my church story end?  Well, I don't think it does end.  I am going to go back... sometime.  Regardless of what you (or I) believe, religious services can be a moment for reflection, reminiscence, and guidance.  For me, it was a moment of community - one that I am familiar with, and one that felt a little like home.  Having just come off a very difficult past few months at work, a bit of community was what I needed - perhaps was yearning for just a bit.  

Sunday evenings in Durham: back porch music on WUNC, the local NPR station.  Sunday evenings in SF: Acoustic Sunset and Lost and Found on KFOG.

Today - I'm encouraged.

Photos of the church: