lucky girl

I have never been a morning person, until recently. Usually, it takes 15 minutes of toying with the snooze key on my phone to open my eyes and roll my frame into an upward position. I am beginning to get comfortable with new rituals since John has moved in. He lets the dog out, and we drink coffee and talk about the day prior: what time we got home, how work went, the crazy cats and rats, and whether I went to the gym or not. Mornings are surprisingly refreshing.

Last night, coworkers invited me out for drinks, and it was astoundingly easy to decline. I did not hesitate answering the internal question, would I rather feel healthier or poorer? The lonely gym bag sat in my car needing attention; therefore, I did not flake. The gym relaxes my muscles and challenges my endurance, and afterwards, I feel better and healthier than before. My life has taken shape in the way I have always dreamed, and I am glad to have priorities beyond surface elements. Everything extends outside of the physical, and I am attempting to grasp feelings and events that matter most.

In Europe next week, I plan on seeing and grasping everything with mental photographs. While Davey is in class, I will walk around and attempt to memorize sounds and emotions on the streets of Paris. Davey has grown tremendously as a person since moving away, and I am excited to get to know her all over again. At 24, life is brighter than ever before, and I march forward to the future with open hands and unclenched teeth.

photo op

sometimes life passes by like the calendar week, but stopping to enjoy the small things deters monotony from happening.

great conversation and pumpkin seeds.

i enjoy working across from the Capitol instead of inside the marvelous building, because i can admire its beauty. every morning i park on the street, instead of in the lot, because the view is beautiful.

roses

Whenever I heard the saying in my youth, “stop and smell the roses,” it would take every ounce of strength to restrain myself from gagging.

This morning I awoke to ice on the deck and a frozen water dish for the animals. Since living in Montana, I have discovered that frost or ice means starting the vehicle early. During the morning “warm-up,” my eyes were drawn to the beautiful sunrise, and the way the light reflected off Lake Helena and into my eyes. Arrays of pink, orange, and red lit the sky to create a beautiful painting in my memory.

So here I am, in the middle of Montana in my pajamas in 25 degree weather, stopping and smelling the roses. At least all the ones that are not frozen.

Trees

Seasons transform similar to people who lose their leaves and hibernate. One moment, the colors change from an orange to a fiery crimson, and the next instant, they are washed away with prevailing winds and bursts of cold. My trunk is strong this season, and my leaves are refusing to fall like the others. When moods begin to darken, there is one leaf remaining in the cold.

The adversities in life are powerful like the seasons. There are those trees you will water, nurture, cover, prune, and mulch, but without roots, they will not withstand the cold and thrive in the spring. One must develop internal roots that have the ability of growing wiser than the calendar years. Feed the roots with knowledge, hobbies, passions, words, ethics, music, conversation—once observed, the lonely tree will mature.

Through interacting with people and movement, I have come to terms that there are more Colorado Spruce’s than Quacking Aspens. Without a blend of slow and fast-growing trees, the world would not have a diverse background and culture. Although it is easy to become frustrated with the lack of growth in deciduous trees every year, it is important to remember their leaves stay green. As people, all we can do is feed our little aspen/spruce/cedar/birch trunks, so in 50-100 years, we remain beautiful and inspirational, and that our branches bring shade and comfort to numerous souls.

Crossroads

Intervals become my friend at nine tonight.
Awaiting for the time we have alone to unwind
from the helplessness of society and neediness
of its constituents. Everyone wants something
from someone, but no one can find me this eve.
Machines laughing to the sounds of footsteps
on their backs. Clocks ticking, people glaring
secretively, wondering when ten will arrive.
Alone in the room, which gathers green balls,
purple steps, and pink carpets, I loosen muscles.
It is here that images and voices are avoided,
but colorful emotions and solitude fill my soul.

seasonal

Only solitude and silence
as thoughts are swept
peacefully together
in the afternoon sun.
Dandelions spread across
hay fields, and grasshoppers
crying in the night.
Shadows fading across
the lake and ripples
caused by laughter.
Evenings last for days,
and vivid colors and
smells are remembered.

Why does darkness seize
light and hearts begin to
simmer and shatter?
Those cold winds,
unruly temperatures,
and rare instances of
morning radiance.
Constructive thoughts collapse
with the avalanche
that took your soul.
Shameful is Time who
cannot take back the
soulfulness of Summer.

Wear Lodge

the Wear Lodge has been a sanctuary of bliss these past 5 nights. no sounds, no television, just peace. i felt a need to write, because being in solitude in the middle of the mountains has opened my perception to a different way of living. inside, i feel myself growing larger and more comfortable in my own shoes. although i much rather be surrounded by people, i am beginning to enjoy the moments i have alone. these moments are hard to come by, which is why i cherish them.

evenings are dark, yet soothing.





and then things are bright... yes the green is finally painted, and i am really pleased with the results.

friendships

Hunting for true friends my age is hard to find in a world of superficiality and greed. What happened to conversation until 3 AM and hikes in the mountains that looped in both directions until legs could not stumble over another rock in the path?

Lately, people in their early 20s have severely disappointed me in their lack of creativity and emotion. I try to hang with the crowd, but the smoke in bars pollutes my mind, and I am not able to foster any intelligent conversations with people I meet. I have come to the conclusion that age is only a number, and if 30, 40, or 50-something year old people can spark my mind and keep conversation interesting, I will gravitate in that direction.

The best times I have had lately have been playing board games, golfing, hiking, and laughing with friends of all ages. Instead of focusing on the negative aspects of the Y generation, I will forget that boundaries of age even exist. In the end, a true friend is there through the hard times because they envision good times are to follow. All along, I have had true friends waiting at my fingertips—now is the time to let them in.

mom reads this blog and wants me to post pictures, and i do not take photographs anymore. camera shy i guess. so, this one my sister took in february i think when she came and visited.

running

in my running group, i noticed everyone is running toward something: 1st place, completing a marathon, winning the Montana Cup, finishing an Ironman.

whatever happened to running away from something.

a chance to escape from the reality of the moment, and free the mind of static and clutter.

when i hurt my knee 5 weeks ago, members of the running club were sad i could not compete. if they only knew that running has never been a race, but a flight from the worries of today in hopes for a better tomorrow.

even if success comes along the way, i turn the final corner and head for home.

realism is near.