The Year of Courage, final season

Occasionally a little voice whispers in my ear the words that I need to guide me.

Around the close of 2013, the word "courage" was whispered to me. It struck something deep in my heart, and that twang saw me through a turbulent spring. Between January and June, I made several brave leaps that involved acting on faith, speaking up about my dreams, and trusting the process. They all paid off handsomely, letting me know that courage was indeed what I was called to express.

My first Lobby Day at the U.S. Capitol

This summer, I let courage take me into the natural world for some adventure. I tried out whitewater kayaking, and loved it. I swam over a mile in open water, and I didn't exactly love it, but I completed it and still had a smile on my face.

Through it all, I conquered many of my biggest fears to take action and speak my mind about injustice, and I can only assume I've grown immensely through the process. I feel very proud of having lived my life more fully and less driven by fear, that much is clear. And I had some amazing experiences, which have made my life much more rich.

But there is still a fear that needs conquering. A fear of screwing up when people are watching. A fear of being so different that nobody will want to come with me down the path. A fear that the only type of courage is being brave enough to leap, to speak, to try.

Occasionally a little voice whispers in my ear the words I need to know. Sometimes those words are on a page, written by another seeker.

Today, they were hidden here, in plain sight.

After a very triumphant year, this fall is the perfect time to turn inward and find out what courage I have left. To take on my doubts - in myself, in my God, in my fellow human beings. To take on the urge to be busy and restless and not listen for the next crumb of guidance. To face my fear of finding out what the beat of my drum sounds like, and dancing wildly to it.

And that is definitely going to take some serious courage, and a different kind of bravery than I've been working on externally. Being brave enough to listen to myself and trust my own inner wisdom.

Homes

We've been discovering the wonders of online house shopping. It's window shopping, because we have nowhere near the down payment, closing costs, and maintenance fund saved up yet. But, it's fun to dream! And certain houses convey the feeling they are set apart from life. A line of trees along the property edge, old windows, gothic arches, and other qualities unidentifiable to me but potent in their appeal. Life is different here, they whisper.

It is the same way traveling to places in exotic locations - not only the chance to get away but also to be immersed in something new, another way of being. And yet, when I travel I so often discover that new places are not so foreign as you'd expect. People are still people: warm and inviting, or raucous, or tender, or bizarre. All city streets have energies all their own. Vistas enchant.

For me, the satisfaction in reaching new lands comes from drawing nearer my fellow man. From seeing his environs, the substrate of his memories and dreams. Tasting if ever so briefly the air that fuels his many days. How perfect to come into his world without making a perturbation. If only it were so. But by passing the stranger on the street and not stopping him to chat, it is my way of saying yes, I need not violate the path you're on. I simply wish to feel the breeze as you rush by.

But then, I would gladly give an afternoon for a chance to peer into his soul and lay out mine. To find our common human experiences, to hold his fears and dreams sweetly in my hands. To laugh together through differing accents and slang. To sit quietly and present, sharing space.

The houses that compel me remind me of people I've known who rest just behind the veil of memory, and what little I knew of their rustic and real lives. And yet, the joy of growing older has been discovering that I have much wider access to a variety of life styles than I'd previously thought. I can enter the community of philosophers and time-bearers, facing waterfalls and chatty with history. I can dance with desert-dwellers through the monsoons of uncertainty and desperately wide valleys. I can build the intimate cave with my favored few for fervent conversations and rich meals.

I know now that any future can still be mine. Any land, any home, offers a new space in which to spin out this existence.

Tranquility

In the past few days, while ostensibly on a work trip, I've discovered two kickass vacation spots.

Exhibit A: I'm sitting on an Adirondack chair on my private deck, overlooking a tiny bay on the St. Lawrence River, sun on my calves, bare feet dangling over the deck, having just completed a tranquil outdoor yoga session (by myself). The sounds are: a dog barking occasionally, boats moving through the water quietly, the wind in the trees, and little else. Egrets and ospreys fly by with their morning snacks against a bright blue sky, and the water is rippling just barely under the breeze. A fish breaks the surface and goes back down. Trees trees trees. Oh yes, I am relaxed and relaxing. Sometime soon I should get myself down to breakfast. A black squirrel on his morning commute by my gate startles to find me here and turns the other direction. Moving along the deck railing, he jumps quickly across to the deck on the main house, a sight I've never seen this closely before.

Yup, I could kill a blissful few days here. Did I mention they gave me the room with the jacuzzi? Sadly, I may not have time to partake, since my meetings start up in a few hours, and I am hoping to use the bay for a test of my open water swimming skills (and, you know, tidy up my presentation at some point).

This is the Glen House Resort in Gananoque, ON. I feel a tug at my heart from the conversation I had last night with my taxi driver, who was talking about the 17 plants that used to be in the area (now single digits), and the need for leadership to take seriously the issues they are having with unemployment.

Exhibit B: After a morning presentation and meeting, my host takes me out of town to the farm store at Cider Keg Farm, where they have just outside the door an incredible-looking display of local fresh strawberries, asparagus, snow peas, and other produce that is clearly at its peak. Inside, the wonders of homemade sparkling apple cider, pecan pies, popcorn and "Pop a Cob", lavender goods, meats, honey, etc., all from locally produced crops. As we check out our Pop a Cobs, the cashier suggests we visit the Eco-Adventures, which in fact is exactly where we're headed. A growing enterprise that seems to be full of great ideas for entertaining folks in a way that honors the natural environment, they offer ziplining through the Carolinian forest (and overlooking the expansive Turkey Point marsh), an observatory where the Milky Way is often visible, kayak-fishing (a new thing!), and tours out to the Long Point spit by boat. If you are a real advenurer, there are also free (!) mountain bike trails on site and glamping (glamorous camping) in cabin like tents that overlook the forest and marsh. Of course, if you just want to walk through the woods, there are plenty of trails for that too. I predict they'll have even more fun adventures offered in the future, as it seems they are just getting started.

My lovely hostess took me across the street to the winery, owned by the same family, for a tasting of what she said was some of the best wine in the area (and in Canada). Apparently the well-drained sandy soils of the area and the weather combine with the winery's innovative approach where they dry the grapes slightly in old tobacco kilns before pressing to make fantastic wines. At least to my palate, but she formerly worked for the Canadian Wine Industry, so I'm thinking she knows what she's talking about. Since it was lunchtime, we also got food from the gourmet food truck parked outside, including local perch from Lake Erie, which she raved about.

This was Simcoe/Long Point area in Norfolk County, and I was smitten. I imagined (and promptly told my husband) we should come back to the area for a week or so to canoe and kayak, sit (or swim!) at the beach, drink wine, ride bikes, have local brews, and just slow down a bit.

These areas are not only local treasures, they are national treasures, and truly, gems of North America. I'm delighted we live so close that my daydreaming about vacationing here is not just a wild fantasy, but is truly feasible. Time to start saving up!!! :)

Ten Years*

and then we were us again, smoothly trading thoughts where noone else could hear us. wordlessly reading each other's paddle strokes and adjusting to keep us on track. following each other into the water, waiting until the other acclimates before going deeper. following each other into the intimacy of quiet, hands held, even though the rings were missing. because they are too precious, you say, and we might lose them. the risk is too much.

we are careful with our love, i guess. it is precious, it has always been. like when you used to call me princess, as a serious pet name, to reflect how special you felt i was. what's amazing to me (always was) is how you can be so irreverent about so many things and yet hold our love so gently, and so deeply.

we slept so well, even if the mosquitoes were droning outside the tent and the ground was closer to our bodies than usual. i kept having to readjust to the simplicity of just us, floating along, timeless and free.

ten years in and the magic is still right there waiting for us, anytime we care to look. you are magic, my love, my prince, and my closest family.

now that i've stopped trying to concoct elaborate plans for our milestones, they seem to be unfolding on their own, with perfect timing and tone.

*please don't count too carefully. nothing untoward ever happened, you see, but i'm afraid the overlap of transitions might make some uneasy.

Summer Moments, So Far

Putting our feet in the fountain at Spikersuppa in the center of Oslo, surrounded by small children doing the same.

Taking lunch outside with my coworkers at the picnic table, mid-work day.

Sitting on a blanket barefoot, singing hymns at our outdoor church service.

Eating ice cream popsicles with my dad and hubby on a sunny afternoon at the escarpment, joking around as we gaze over the best view in town.

Getting happy hour margaritas on the patio with a visiting friend, sunglasses optional.

Holly and me at the Hollow

Jumping in a cold lake after a long day of paddling, followed by chilling in the canoe while the hubby casts line after line into the pond that we have all to ourselves, hoping for a bite.

Playing impromptu volleyball at the church picnic, and being kind of good.

Ducklings and goslings, always in sets of four.

Discovering I have a watch tan!

Spending Monday morning at work trying not to itch the mosquito bites that cover my ankles and wrists.

Steamed mussels with drawn butter!!

Flowers: the unexpected rose bush in our side yard, the tiny ones underfoot on our hikes, the many public gardens full of them in every city from Norway to New York.

Days full of my favorite people - phone calls, skype dates, and visits.

and Cotton candy in Tivoli Gardens...

Together

It is this moment that I will take with me
I hope
where the quiet is a friend
the sky shifting slowly across the window
blue backed clouds and pole perched birds
and the feeling in this moment
that you are out there
calling to me
inviting me toward a verdant stream
where i might lie
and know the peace
that comes from living through the bombs
of everyday assaults -
the judgments, the betrayals, the accidental injuries -
and getting to that place
where the friends are everywhere
the words passing simply across our lips
big bold hearts and standing still together
and the feeling in the moment
that we are better for each one of us.

i'll build you a house from twine and seashells
every room just the way you want
you said to me
i'll write down every word you say
in a notebook with flowers on the cover
tucked under the mattress
i know you meant well
but it's been so long since we've been like this together
since we've sat down face to face
holding hands and sharing secret dreams
i'm not sure i even know you
let's start small
a walk in the autumn woods
to notice the sunshine tricks through fading leaves
i'll think of a few songs to sing to you
written long ago
hummed in a whispery way
while you rest your head on my knee
drifting between waking and dreams
and you can come here every day
for an hour
make me tea
and learn to pay attention.

Bucket List

I'm alive!!! Tee hee. Did you miss me? I won't try to explain my absence other than to say, sometimes life keeps you from writing about it because you're busy living it. Also, I'm all caught up on my shows. ;P

Thanks to my endless imagination and inspiring job, I have a few new items as of today to add to my bucket list. Which made me think, maybe it's time to post an updated bucket list!

Things still to do before I die (and progress thus far):
1) Have a rip-roaring anniversary/vow renewal party with the hubs (any decadal or 25-year mark of our marriage will work)
2) Take the hubs to Europe (trip planned for May 2014!)
3) Visit all 7 continents (3 down, 4 to go)
4) Visit as many Frederick Law Olmsted Sr.-designed parks/landscapes as possible, including Yosemite (Central Park, Mount Royal, Prospect Park, Biltmore Estate, the U.S. Capitol Grounds, Delaware Park)
5) Take an overnight sailing trip
6) Go parasailing
7) Float/Raft the Grand Canyon
8) Tithe my income (i.e. donate 10% of my income to charity)
9) See a baby be born
10) Be with someone when they die
11) Do a silent retreat longer than 1 day
12) See the Northern Lights
13) Whitewater raft a class 3 or higher river
14) Ride 40 miles on my bike
15) Take a month off work
16) Volunteer in South America
17) Ride a horse on the beach
18) Buy a house
19) Own a dog