It's interesting that the only time I find myself breathing in wi-fi and willing to write, I'm drinking a chai. So here I am again. I found out that the laundromat has internet! And a great view of the snow-capped mountains outside. So my laundry's done and sitting in a pile next to me, but I think I'll stay alittle longer. To update...
A couple weeks ago I finally made the comittment to stay with this job for a year. It took practice, though. First of all, practice in busting a fire using a bow drill set (this is a requirement to become an instructor). And most importantly, practice in comittment. Some friends said I should either go out and have a kid or get a dog. A great way to learn commitment (I can't figure out how to spell this word). But kind of extreme. So I bought two plants instead. One I named Merv the fern (named after Vern who has survived the Ohio climate since my senior year in college and who my mom regularly gives updates on because I think it reminds her of me... "So, Juli, things are going pretty well here at home... Vern's not so happy. He's losing leaves left and right. I think he does better when you're around.") and another plant which for some reason doesn't compel me to name it.
So I'll be here until atleast next winter. Part of me is excited to have something planned for my future and a place to finally settle into. Another part of me is still uneasy about being away from family for another year.
So that's the update. I wish I'd write more like I used to. But I went for a run this morning and stopped at a park to swing and I looked up at the surrounding rocks and realized that I never stop to think long enough to have thoughts. And as I swung like a little kid, I looked up at the surrounding rocks and felt the familiarity of thoughts I experienced long ago. The kind of stuff I used to write about.
I live under an old volcano, atleast I think it is. The hill is shaped like a volcano and made up of black lava rock. An airport sits on top. To the left of the black volcano, blue mountains topped with snow sat in the distance. That's out where I live every other week. And to the left of those sat red hardened sand dunes, out near Snow Canyon. The view was incredible. Three different colors, three very different rocks, and me in the middle. Geese started honking in the distance and I realized that geese sound very much like tired moms calling their kids in for the evening.
I turned around and looked at the dried up Santa Clara river beside me and remembered pictures I'd seen of when it overflowed its banks and washed out a bunch of houses here years ago. Today, people know better, or atleast they think they do. Large walls line the edges of the river, stone-filled chicken wire holding together the banks. I've realized in recent years that I relate most to a river and I like to live in places where water travels through, but doesn't stay. The river sat next to me today stagnant, only a small stream moved through. I can't help but feel I'm sacrificing something by staying still... that river in me. This year I hope to find peace in the stillness and maybe a part of me I've avoided, a part that can only be found when I'm not moving.
Thursday, February 05, 2009
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
warm chai and sunshine
This past week, I received one of my favorite compliments. I was told that I am simple.
I thought back on my week of training for Second Nature and I couldn't figure out which action of mine really led to this feedback. Was it the many hours sitting in the dirt? No, we all did that. Was it the ease with which I wore lines of smoke stain in my face creases? No, we all looked alittle like raccoons from the hours sitting around smokey fires. Was it the way I stripped pounds off my pack... "I won't need that piece, I won't need another pair of socks, I can leave this coat behind..." That was just because I didn't condition myself for carrying 50 pounds on my back. So, I don't really know why I was told I am simple, but I liked it.
I carry a piece of paper around with me, a quote from one of my favorite writers Brian Andreas-
This is a blank map that lets you go as far as you want in any direction, with no questions asked, but it's no help at all if you want to know if you're going the right way.
I'm often looking for signs, confirmations, for the direction I'm headed. Sometimes, I like to assume I've found them. Happy feet, for example. Somewhere back in the archives of this old blog I wrote about my feet when I first arrived in Zion. They were cracked and dry, sometimes painful to walk on. The mystic lady at the bookstore told me it was because my feet weren't happy where they were placed. By the time I left Zion that fall, 3 months later than anticipated, my feet were soft. This past summer at Mesa Verde, my feet were cracked the whole time. So far, in my return to familiar territory, my feet are happy. My first drive back into the canyon with some new friends I've made (their first Zion experience), I felt a joy I hadn't felt in so long. I cranked up my music and yelled out the open windows into the full moon night. We hiked to an overlook and the white sandstone lit up in the moonlight and I knew I was at home.
Another Brian Andreas quote for the moment-
I used to wait for a sign, she said, before I did anything. Then one night I had a dream & an angel in black tights came to me & said, you can start any time now, & then I asked is this a sign? & the angel started laughing & I woke up. Now, I think the whole world is filled with signs, but if there's no laughter, I know they're not for me.
Somebody thought I was simple this week, but I think we all are. Sometimes we pick up extra clutter along the way that disguises our nature. When I'm in my Zion, I believe my inner nature is revealed. We all have a Zion.
"way too much stuff to carry so it's probably time to settle down."
Another Brian Andreas quote I keep with me. I sit here drinking my warm chai by the fireplace as the sun rises above the canyon walls and at this moment I feel at peace. But I am still without a home and I am still unsure if Wilderness Therapy is the job for me. I miss my family. I miss friends. But I carry all these experiences with me. I feel so rich sometimes. Settling down isn't something you can plan for. But I believe I'll know it in the instant it occurs. No matter where that place is, I believe it will be a Zion.
I thought back on my week of training for Second Nature and I couldn't figure out which action of mine really led to this feedback. Was it the many hours sitting in the dirt? No, we all did that. Was it the ease with which I wore lines of smoke stain in my face creases? No, we all looked alittle like raccoons from the hours sitting around smokey fires. Was it the way I stripped pounds off my pack... "I won't need that piece, I won't need another pair of socks, I can leave this coat behind..." That was just because I didn't condition myself for carrying 50 pounds on my back. So, I don't really know why I was told I am simple, but I liked it.
I carry a piece of paper around with me, a quote from one of my favorite writers Brian Andreas-
This is a blank map that lets you go as far as you want in any direction, with no questions asked, but it's no help at all if you want to know if you're going the right way.
I'm often looking for signs, confirmations, for the direction I'm headed. Sometimes, I like to assume I've found them. Happy feet, for example. Somewhere back in the archives of this old blog I wrote about my feet when I first arrived in Zion. They were cracked and dry, sometimes painful to walk on. The mystic lady at the bookstore told me it was because my feet weren't happy where they were placed. By the time I left Zion that fall, 3 months later than anticipated, my feet were soft. This past summer at Mesa Verde, my feet were cracked the whole time. So far, in my return to familiar territory, my feet are happy. My first drive back into the canyon with some new friends I've made (their first Zion experience), I felt a joy I hadn't felt in so long. I cranked up my music and yelled out the open windows into the full moon night. We hiked to an overlook and the white sandstone lit up in the moonlight and I knew I was at home.
Another Brian Andreas quote for the moment-
I used to wait for a sign, she said, before I did anything. Then one night I had a dream & an angel in black tights came to me & said, you can start any time now, & then I asked is this a sign? & the angel started laughing & I woke up. Now, I think the whole world is filled with signs, but if there's no laughter, I know they're not for me.
Somebody thought I was simple this week, but I think we all are. Sometimes we pick up extra clutter along the way that disguises our nature. When I'm in my Zion, I believe my inner nature is revealed. We all have a Zion.
"way too much stuff to carry so it's probably time to settle down."
Another Brian Andreas quote I keep with me. I sit here drinking my warm chai by the fireplace as the sun rises above the canyon walls and at this moment I feel at peace. But I am still without a home and I am still unsure if Wilderness Therapy is the job for me. I miss my family. I miss friends. But I carry all these experiences with me. I feel so rich sometimes. Settling down isn't something you can plan for. But I believe I'll know it in the instant it occurs. No matter where that place is, I believe it will be a Zion.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
what not to do at an airport
Oh my goodness I give up. I used to be so good at writing. I not only kept up on this but I also kept my own journal. Now when my great great grandchildren want to write a story about my life (when I've become famous for... something) there will be this great big blank space. No info. And someday, when I'm old and have lost much of my memory and have received the family gift of dementia, all this will be a mystery even to myself.
I can't even begin to catch up on all that's been missed. But I can tell a good story. Well, it's not that good, but my unemployed life this month hasn't been all that story-worthy.
So the end of the summer job couldn't come soon enough. Working as an interpreter ranger at Mesa Verde was really a cool opportunity, but completely exhausting... And I was so ready to see my family again. So I drove down to Tucson and visited my aunt and uncle there (I can't be west of the Mississippi without a visit to the Sonoran desert). I left my car there to trash up their yard like ours back in Ohio that they like to make fun of. And I flew home to save time, money, and to skip out on the risk of wrecking my car again.
Despite warnings from frequent fliers who say that TSA loves to harass people carrying backpacks, I packed my backpack with all the items I thought I'd need for a month in Ohio. That basically was a tshirt, a pair of jeans, a jacket, and some toiletries (which I carefully studied up on and packed in their cute little quart sized bag). So I filled the rest of the space in my pack with crap I wouldn't need in Utah. The pack was completely filled. I dared not open it after everything was squeezed in.
Arrived at the airport and they asked if I'd like to check my giant piece of luggage. I said no, I would not be paying 15 extra dollars just to check one bag. That's a load of crap. So at security, I plopped the pack next to the x-ray machine and watched the pilot and flight attendents in front of me empty their pockets, pull out their toiletries bags, slip off their shoes, and smoothly walk by the TSA cops. I turned to the guy behind me and asked if he thought I'd need to do all that. He forced a smile and gave me a look like, "Aww, this is her first time flying."
I obediently took off my shoes. But I didn't dare open that bag.
MISTAKE #1
I smiled back at the man behind me, pointed at my bulging backpack, and announced "I hope they don't search that bag. It's going to explode!"
Yikes. The smile behind me turned to a frown. "Uh, that's not something you say here." Shoot! I didn't even mean that at all! I quickly tensed up, waiting for the armed guard to come tackle me to the ground. Luckily, they must not have heard me, though the concerned passengers around me did. I apologized.
MISTAKE #2
I made it through the walk-thru thingy for the first time ever. I usually have a surprise metal object attached to me or in my pockets that I forgot about. And I stood and watched my bag go through. The lady screening the machine suddenly got a look of horror on her face. She called another worker over. He got a look of fear on his face too. He took out my pack and called out, "Whose bag is this? I'm sending it through again." So I watched them call another guy over and all three of them had these bewildered, fearful expressions as my bag went through the machine.
I scanned my own mind to try to figure out what I had packed days before and prayed to god they wouldn't choose to unpack everything right there before I had to get to my flight.
An irritated looking TSA guy comes over with my pack. Please don't open my pack... "I'm going to be opening your pack and take a peak inside," he said. He proceeded to pull out every single item and I have to admit, I was kind of proud to watch the clown-car-like happenings going on with my stuff. I'm a pretty good packer I think. He huffed and puffed and I swear I saw him roll his eyes. "Is there some reason why you put a bunch of books at the bottom?" I said, "It's kind of a rule of a backpack. I wouldn't want all that weight at the top." I sighed back.
And then he found it. A strange metalic box, wrapped in tissue paper and newspaper, placed carefully inside of a cardboard box, taped shut with duct tape, and cushioned with all my clothes around it. Looking back now, I guess I see the suspiciousness of it all. Apparently, days before I left, I had carefully packed a computer hard drive and totally forgot about it (as it was camoflauged within my shirt, socks, and underwear).
I'm no expert on bombs. But, I guess that's the sort of thing that could look like one.
The TSA guy now was really huffing and puffing (I had just wasted like 5 minutes of his time which could have been spent frisking down some woman). He slid me my bag. "You can repack now. And, I'll have to confiscate your toothpaste."
Mistake #3
Don't pack toothpaste.
I can't even begin to catch up on all that's been missed. But I can tell a good story. Well, it's not that good, but my unemployed life this month hasn't been all that story-worthy.
So the end of the summer job couldn't come soon enough. Working as an interpreter ranger at Mesa Verde was really a cool opportunity, but completely exhausting... And I was so ready to see my family again. So I drove down to Tucson and visited my aunt and uncle there (I can't be west of the Mississippi without a visit to the Sonoran desert). I left my car there to trash up their yard like ours back in Ohio that they like to make fun of. And I flew home to save time, money, and to skip out on the risk of wrecking my car again.
Despite warnings from frequent fliers who say that TSA loves to harass people carrying backpacks, I packed my backpack with all the items I thought I'd need for a month in Ohio. That basically was a tshirt, a pair of jeans, a jacket, and some toiletries (which I carefully studied up on and packed in their cute little quart sized bag). So I filled the rest of the space in my pack with crap I wouldn't need in Utah. The pack was completely filled. I dared not open it after everything was squeezed in.
Arrived at the airport and they asked if I'd like to check my giant piece of luggage. I said no, I would not be paying 15 extra dollars just to check one bag. That's a load of crap. So at security, I plopped the pack next to the x-ray machine and watched the pilot and flight attendents in front of me empty their pockets, pull out their toiletries bags, slip off their shoes, and smoothly walk by the TSA cops. I turned to the guy behind me and asked if he thought I'd need to do all that. He forced a smile and gave me a look like, "Aww, this is her first time flying."
I obediently took off my shoes. But I didn't dare open that bag.
MISTAKE #1
I smiled back at the man behind me, pointed at my bulging backpack, and announced "I hope they don't search that bag. It's going to explode!"
Yikes. The smile behind me turned to a frown. "Uh, that's not something you say here." Shoot! I didn't even mean that at all! I quickly tensed up, waiting for the armed guard to come tackle me to the ground. Luckily, they must not have heard me, though the concerned passengers around me did. I apologized.
MISTAKE #2
I made it through the walk-thru thingy for the first time ever. I usually have a surprise metal object attached to me or in my pockets that I forgot about. And I stood and watched my bag go through. The lady screening the machine suddenly got a look of horror on her face. She called another worker over. He got a look of fear on his face too. He took out my pack and called out, "Whose bag is this? I'm sending it through again." So I watched them call another guy over and all three of them had these bewildered, fearful expressions as my bag went through the machine.
I scanned my own mind to try to figure out what I had packed days before and prayed to god they wouldn't choose to unpack everything right there before I had to get to my flight.
An irritated looking TSA guy comes over with my pack. Please don't open my pack... "I'm going to be opening your pack and take a peak inside," he said. He proceeded to pull out every single item and I have to admit, I was kind of proud to watch the clown-car-like happenings going on with my stuff. I'm a pretty good packer I think. He huffed and puffed and I swear I saw him roll his eyes. "Is there some reason why you put a bunch of books at the bottom?" I said, "It's kind of a rule of a backpack. I wouldn't want all that weight at the top." I sighed back.
And then he found it. A strange metalic box, wrapped in tissue paper and newspaper, placed carefully inside of a cardboard box, taped shut with duct tape, and cushioned with all my clothes around it. Looking back now, I guess I see the suspiciousness of it all. Apparently, days before I left, I had carefully packed a computer hard drive and totally forgot about it (as it was camoflauged within my shirt, socks, and underwear).
I'm no expert on bombs. But, I guess that's the sort of thing that could look like one.
The TSA guy now was really huffing and puffing (I had just wasted like 5 minutes of his time which could have been spent frisking down some woman). He slid me my bag. "You can repack now. And, I'll have to confiscate your toothpaste."
Mistake #3
Don't pack toothpaste.
Sunday, August 03, 2008
my house
My first house was amazing. I lived in it alone and I had a skylight! I always wanted a skylight. And then, I got my rent statement. $527 a month wasn't worth a skylight.
My house now is perfect. It's an old cabin built by the CCC back in the 30's. It sits on the edge of a canyon and I have a great view (even though it's all burnt).
My house now is perfect. It's an old cabin built by the CCC back in the 30's. It sits on the edge of a canyon and I have a great view (even though it's all burnt).
Yes, you do see a horse in this picture. There's a feral horse that likes my yard. He sometimes lives there too. I like to watch him roll around in the rabbitbrush when he has an itch.
I can see Ute peak over the mesa and the sun sets directly behind it. I am so lucky to live here.
My job is to lead groups of up to 60 people through these cliff dwellings and to make sure they have a good time, learn or experience something, and that they don't damage the place. It means that ranger guides have to be entertainers, educators, and rule enforcers. Somedays I feel like all I did was entertain for an hour and made sure nobody got hurt. I call that a successful day.
the mesa
As I drove up the mesa I was remembering the last time I visited... In 1996, we came just days after the park reopened after a huge fire. This time as I drove, even more of the park was burnt. They say since 1996, over half the park has burnt in major wildfires. It makes finding a bit of color even more incredible...
christening of The Egg
Drove by a tornado in Kansas and my car was pelted with hail and now bears scars of the long journey west. I'm realizing this is the first picture of The Egg on my blog. Hopefully first of many pics of my travels. I was thankful for the Subaru's lack of aerodynamics on the windshield. There was a Dodge Neon parked near me at this gas station with the windshield shattered from the hail.leaving Ohio...
In early June, I left Yellow Springs, OH and my little screechie-peas whom I miss terribly.No internets
Aaahh! I'm so behind in updating it makes me want to give up this whole thing. As you can see, internet (or "internets" as my brothers and W call it) is not the easiest to come by. The only internet access is at work and who wants to come in on their off hours to work? Cell coverage is none too. But my roommate and I got a landline. If anybody wants the number, just call and leave me a message on my cell.
So Mesa Verde country is beautiful. And I find it interesting that all through school I hated history. And here my job revolves around it. But this is prehistory so I guess that makes it ok.
I'm going to try to post some pics...
So Mesa Verde country is beautiful. And I find it interesting that all through school I hated history. And here my job revolves around it. But this is prehistory so I guess that makes it ok.
I'm going to try to post some pics...
Sunday, June 08, 2008
Mesa Verde
I have found the internet...
And it's not behind a sketchy hotel this time. I'm sitting in the lodge at Mesa Verde and it's a great place to people watch. This park must attract the older generations because I keep seeing the 60 and up crowd; flat butts from sitting in the RV all day, traveling across the country and buying up obnoxious-sized turquoise rings and bolo ties off the reservations. It's ok for me to stereotype this crowd. For years my granddad did this stuff. And now one of those obnoxious-sized turquoise rings is my favorite piece of jewelry. It's great to be back in the west again, where the skies are so large and the dirt is so rusty. Ohio was beautiful during the spring and I'm glad I finally got to witness that, but I felt like I couldn't breathe after awhile. Kind of like if you only took short little breaths for awhile. I needed a big breath, maybe a yawn. That's the only way to describe it. I feel like I can breathe again.
I had full intentions of posting pics of Glen Helen... but my computer isn't reading the cd right now. Someday I'll do a post on that place. Absolutely gorgeous. After living in the woods for 5 months, it's so strange to look out. It's strange to have the sun rise on my face again and to experience a slow, beautiful sunset.
Now that I've found internet, hopefully I'll post some of my own pics. These are stolen from google images.
And it's not behind a sketchy hotel this time. I'm sitting in the lodge at Mesa Verde and it's a great place to people watch. This park must attract the older generations because I keep seeing the 60 and up crowd; flat butts from sitting in the RV all day, traveling across the country and buying up obnoxious-sized turquoise rings and bolo ties off the reservations. It's ok for me to stereotype this crowd. For years my granddad did this stuff. And now one of those obnoxious-sized turquoise rings is my favorite piece of jewelry. It's great to be back in the west again, where the skies are so large and the dirt is so rusty. Ohio was beautiful during the spring and I'm glad I finally got to witness that, but I felt like I couldn't breathe after awhile. Kind of like if you only took short little breaths for awhile. I needed a big breath, maybe a yawn. That's the only way to describe it. I feel like I can breathe again.
I had full intentions of posting pics of Glen Helen... but my computer isn't reading the cd right now. Someday I'll do a post on that place. Absolutely gorgeous. After living in the woods for 5 months, it's so strange to look out. It's strange to have the sun rise on my face again and to experience a slow, beautiful sunset.
Now that I've found internet, hopefully I'll post some of my own pics. These are stolen from google images.
beautiful.
Saturday, March 22, 2008
ohio...
It's been so long since I've updated this thing, I forgot how to log on. I was told the other day that it's been too long since I've written. The truth is, when I'm in Ohio I don't feel anything's worthy enough to post. But when I look back on pictures I've taken of the nature preserve I'm living in right now, I have to admit that Ohio can be pretty sometimes. So, at some point I'm going to remember to post pictures. But for now I want to post a poem I was emailed. This is how I feel about my winter months in good old Ohio...
It's winter in Ohio
And the gentle breezes blow
Seventy miles an hour
at twenty five below.
Oh, how I love Ohio
When the snow's up to your butt
You take a breath of winter
And your nose gets frozen shut.
Yes, the weather here is wonderful
So, I guess I'll hang around
I could never leave Ohio
Cause I'm frozen to the ground!
It's winter in Ohio
And the gentle breezes blow
Seventy miles an hour
at twenty five below.
Oh, how I love Ohio
When the snow's up to your butt
You take a breath of winter
And your nose gets frozen shut.
Yes, the weather here is wonderful
So, I guess I'll hang around
I could never leave Ohio
Cause I'm frozen to the ground!
Friday, November 09, 2007
Santuario de Chimayo, New Mexico
I drove out into Georgia O'Keefe country to find a small church built in the hills where there was said to be "holy dirt" that was responsible for many miracles. I thought this would be a good fix for my swollen cactus-bruised leg. I found the small hole in the floor in the corner of the church and reached my hand into the cool brown dirt and rubbed it on my calve... no relief. But I love rubbing dirt on myself anyway so it felt good.Loretto Chapel, Santa Fe
I'd heard of a stairway in Santa Fe where a spiral staircase mysteriously appeared and is made of extinct wood with no support. This was something I had to see. It was pretty but I couldn't get very close and there wasn't really much else to see except for an extensive gift shop full of saints figurines.
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