Que Sera Sera

Phew. I'm seated, in my assigned seat...15 minutes after getting to the airport. at 5:00 pm, I was told that my 7:30 flight was cancelled and instead I was put on a flight leaving at 5:55. If I didn't make that flight, I would be stuck in LA and my friends would have to wait for me in San Jose, Costa Rica. What a start to a 5 week trip!

After we all gathered at the San Jose airport (which is actually in Alajuela) in the following 36 hours after I left Seattle, we were on a bus and headed to our first holiday destination, Quepos. Here, we had plans to stay with one of my traveling companions' uncle, an expat willing to host 4 ladies for a week and half at his Costa Rican mansion, accessible to few through a series of gates. He welcomed us with Imperial (one of two Costa Rican beers), pizza, and his two dogs as we watched the sun set over the Pacific ocean from rocking chairs on his upstairs balcony. Finally...together and not moving and drinking a beer with a view. Quepos--land of pirate taxis, prostitutes, beautiful and tourist-filled beaches, 2 for 1 happy hour--turned out to be a perfect place for us to relax, play cards, make a plan, cook together, ride horses to a waterfall, ride someone else's motorcycle, go to the doctor, get acquainted with being in a foreign country, catch some big-ass fish, and get A LOT of free drinks. We were amazed by the teenagers who could move their hips to Salsa music, the monkeys, the sloths, the price of the national park entrance, how nothing dries if it gets wet, the 2 for 1, 2 at once happy hour, and the fear of over-drafting every time we took out 150,000 colones from an ATM.

After 10 days of general relaxation and vacation, we decided to make our way toward Drake Bay, where we had a free place to stay with the parents of a friend of a friend/future boss/complete stranger (to some of us). On the way, we stopped at a surfer town full of too many cool vibes, where the surf is good and people go to sleep at 8, so they can get up to shred on the first waves. It was here, I think, that we began being led by many a good-natured Costa Rican man, all too willing to help four young, white ladies on to each new destination. The expat in Quepos constantly hooked us up with deals. Here, in Dominical, we met Andre who taught us the ways of Costa Rican pop music, Costa Rican pizza, and the general surfer vibe. We left the next morning before the sun rose, and the Tico men ushered us to where we were supposed to go. On the way to Drake Bay, we waited for several hours in Sierpe for a water Taxi that would take us through the mangroves and onto our destination. It was here where we lost our minds waiting in the hot sun for hours, and where I nearly died when a branch about me broke off the tree and would have landed on my head were it not for my killer instincts. With a new appreciation for my life, we arrived in the magical, special place, met by our new host on the beach.

Drake is a small, rural town, where 5 year old boys ride a horse to the mini super market and tie it up outside, where there is one pick-up truck that takes the one road. Here we were shown to our guest house with beds, sheets, warm (or cold) showers, a kitchen, a washing machine, and all thanks be to the arid god, a dryer. In Drake, we walked on beaches, jumped off of rope bridges into crocodile-filled rivers that change with the tides, found a magical ping-pong table, celebrated American Thanksgiving with bacon and an eight dollar bag of Cheetos, kayaked in the wide open ocean, drank boozy smoothies, caught a cold, played hilarious drinking games, and meet a new spirit guide. Carlos became our main man, and we became his 4 ladies whom he showed around, healed, guided, and made phone calls for. He took us for a night swim, when the moon was low and the waves came alive with bio-luminescence, tiny plankton glowing with every movement we made. He taught us to make fresh lemongrass, ginger tea to heal our colds, and took us for a hike/waterfall-jumping/ wear-your-lifejacket-like-a-diaper floating tour down a river into the ocean. We ate cacao fruit off of trees and no-named citrus fruits from everywhere. I discovered a true passion of mine is finding coconuts on the beach and using my pocket knife to open it and drink the juice and eat the meat and share it with local, hungry dogs and my friends.

At this point in our trip, with every swim in the ocean, walk on the beach or in the woods, or nap in a hammock, I could feel the stress and disappointment of the year dripping away. It felt like happiness was slowly returning and a version of myself that I like much more than the self I have been for a while. Thanks to the ocean--the point at which time and eternity intersect--a force to be reckoned with.

Next stop, Mount Chirripo! I had spent quite a bit of time getting paperwork and money in the right place in order to go on a hike, the tallest peak in Costa Rica, nonetheless. We were ushered to San Isidro de General/ Perez Zeledon(thanks to our spirit-guide, Carlos), and eventually made our way to one of two San Gerardos in this 17,000 square mile country. We were dropped off from the school bus full of women and teenage lovebirds at the last stop up, next to the soccer field where the bus would park until it left the next morning. We were greeted by an unpleasant couple from Quebec telling us "There's no room in the inn." Luckily, we ignored them and made the 2 kilometer trek up to Casa Mariposa (butterfly house), a beautiful hostel where we would spend the next 5 days (minus the 2 where we were hiking). Although we came here for the mountain, we quickly fell in love with this mountain town. We walked in the crisp air to a chilly swimming hole, to a "secret garden," a trout farm, a chocolatier, a cheese maker, waterfalls, and lovely everything. The hostel was cozy, gave us 2 fleece blankets for the chilly nights, clean, coffee at 5 am everyday,and full of interesting outdoorsy travelers. The hike up the mountain went smoothly. I was anxious to get up high, and it was totally worth it. We left the hiker's lodge at 3 am, donned all of our clothes, watched a beautiful alpine lightning storm from afar, and made it up to the summit in time to witness the daily ceremony of the sun slowly making its way up from the east. When we had all our photos taken, the surprise cake eaten, and our fingers were thoroughly numb, we hiked down in the magic light of dawn, stopping at the lodge for a warming cup of coffee before we took our time going back down through the cloud forest where oak trees and bamboo grow side by side. We rested and enjoyed Casa Mariposa for another day before heading to our next destination, Monteverde.

We had heard about Monteverde from a friend and from everyone we had met. We arrive during the Festival de la Luz, welcomed by parades and college-like foreigners partying. Our spirits got a little low here, as we all were in need of time away from each other, and we were stuck inside of a cloud...literally. I wish I could say I liked being in the cloud forest, but honestly, it got pretty stuffy in there. The nature reserves were beautiful and fun to hike around. We went to the Quaker meeting, and I was reminded of some great parts of my religious upbringing. I felt totally peaceful and open to the musings of the universe after sitting in silence for an hour. On one of my traveling companion's birthday, we went out to breakfast, went on a zip line canopy tour (17 ziplines, one of them is 1 km long!), ate burritos, and watched the sun set with a bottle of champagne.

To leave Monteverde, we got on a bus, whose driver hated us from the start, and proceeded down the curvy dirt road. Just about the time I began to feel nauseous, the percentage of the dirt overcame the oxygen in the bus and the driver turned on Latin carnival music. Just barely keeping my breakfast down, we got on an hour and half long ferry across the open ocean. Our arrival in the beautiful beach town called Montezuma (Montefuma, to some) could not have been more welcomed. We had reached an oasis where we could and would spend the next 10 days.

In Montezuma, our biggest decision each day was to get up at 5 and walk down to the beach for sunrise or just to watch it from our beds, wake up slow, sipping coffee while watching the birds and howler monkeys nearby and the tide come in afar. In Montezuma, you go to yoga, eat well, sit on the beach, go to the waterfall, swim in salt water, swim in fresh water, sit outside at all hours of the day, and you feel better when you leave. We met travelers who glow, awash with joy and relaxation, basking in each moment, at the whims of the universe. When it was time to leave, I felt excited to test out my happiness in my day to day life, to see if it could hold up despite gray skies and cold weather. I had made a list of things I'd like to accomplish and be, feeling motivated by traveling and sunshine.

Anyway, I'm home now. And I'm still walking on beaches, just wearing boots, and a wool coat and hat when I do. I'm inspired by the life of a traveler, taking note of the beauty in each day, enjoying the moments.

Friendship

"What's friendship, when all's done, but the giving and taking of wounds?"

Frederick Buechner

For Aristotle, there are three kinds of friendship, the highest of which is friendship based on virtue. This means wishing the best for your friends regardless of the utility or pleasure derived from the friendship. The other two kinds of friendship are friendship based on utility and friendship based on pleasure. A useful friend is one you derive a benefit from, like a neighbor who is really good at fixing cars and you are friends because he fixes your car. In a friendship based on pleasure, you simply enjoy being with one another; you are friends because you are attracted to each other's wit, good looks, good conversation, hiking companion, or other desirable qualities. I find myself more and more drawn to this highest form of friendship, mutual feelings of good will between two people who value each other for their goodness and help each other strive for goodness.

In a world where individualism predominates, we each choose our own life path, goals, values, and friends are a comfort, but we cannot expect them to share our goals and values. In Aristotle's world, human life has a telos, an end goal where the pursuit of happiness is communal. 

I think I once thought there was no such thing as this true and virtuous form of friendship, but now I am realizing the differences in the friendships I have. I have high moral and ethical standards for people, especially my close friends. In my friendships motivated by utility and pleasure, I find myself frustrated, critical, and disappointed constantly. Aristotle thought that friendship would not last if one person is far more virtuous than the other. Maybe in our modern thought, where virtue is defined by the individual, we simply have different definitions of what is virtuous. It comes down to this: I want my friends to share my goals and values. I want to be motivated by them to be better to other people, to be kinder, to be admirable.

Just a sad and terrible post

Put your back into it, I keep telling myself.

Some people hurt us and know it will hurt
some people hurt us and have no idea of the pain they cause.
With the first, the sadness is dulled by the anger
with the second, the sadness is amplified by the unknowing.

Just put your back into it, hide the tears with sweat.

I work like a dog, but fail to rest like one.
I don't work out of love for the work anymore,
and I don't work out of duty to anyone but myself.
The disappointment, though, is heavy on my shoulders
and the load lessens the more I avoid it, for now.

Put your back into it?
I'm not sure how much it works anymore.

My mind says, flow with the seasons.
Hard times, unexpected events will pass.
They come and they go.
Carry grace for yourself and for others.
Be kind to yourself and love yourself.
Choose to see the beauty and adventure in life.

Put your back into it, don't let them know it hurts.

I'm cheery and friendly, or at least I try.
I say I'm good, like we all do.
They say no one wants to hear about your dreams,
they really want to hear nothing of your sadness.
Hell, I'm sick of hearing  my own bitter news.
Inside is all rage and hell-fire, though.

Put your back into, might as well at this point.

The will to live and to live happily
is all I've got left these days.
Friendship, thoughts of the future,
giving anything wears me down, threadbare.
My inner strength is shallow, uprooted.

Put your back into, it'll get easier after this.

Stay present. Hoe what's in front of you
and don't dare to look at the rest of the field.
Be grateful for seasons and for what you have.
Breathe in and out.
The old adages get us through.

My lack of writing has come from a general lack of inspiration and creativity. The routine and busyness of sheep camp has kind of smothered my creativity, as routine is known to do. And inspiration, as a dear friend of mine recently said, "Fuck inspiration. We can't wait for that finicky bitch to come. We have to try everyday amid the routine to uncover and make more of the beauty we see and feel around us." How to  uncover that beauty comes down to actually sitting down with a pen and paper, or a guitar, or whatever outlet I choose and physically getting it out of my head. I was told in school that you really know nothing until you can write it down, and that seems so true. How little of my thoughts are illuminated until I bring them into being.

I'm growing tough as I grow older, it seems like; I mimic the sycamore trees and the linden leaves. And I do what I can to not grow cold or bitter; to keep trusting and giving and loving despite how many times I've been disappointed and hurt. It's always all or nothing with me. My loyalty is really a pretty frustrating characteristic. That seems to be the key to living a full life though, you have to let yourself feel all of the things, there are no free good feelings, they are all accompanied by pain.

Mercury was in retrograde this month. As someone who has a hard time believing in anything other than my day to day life, I believe in astrology about as seriously as I believe in any religion or even science. Mercurian retrograde is an optical allusion where it appears as if mercury stops and moves backwards for about three weeks. In astrology, this is a time of chaos in our lives. In our relationships, sometimes we gloss over things that pushed our buttons at the time; we let it slide. During mercurian retrograde, what seemed not worth the trouble can reveal itself as a major issue in need of our attention. It's a time to reflect inward, slow down, and review once underlying patterns come to light. There's a good chance its all bullshit, but for the past two years, when Mercury is in retrograde it seems like a million things go wrong in my life, especially socially. I wish I had hid away all month and avoided any social interaction. Luckily, mercury is back to normal, and that is reason for celebration. Here's to a great rest of the summer, hell, to a great rest of the year. I'm stoked about the future right now, seriously looking forward to what's coming at me next in life.

I don't believe in an interventionist God
But I know, darling, that you do
But if I did I would kneel down and ask Him
Not to intervene when it came to you
Not to touch a hair on your head
To leave you as you are
And if He felt He had to direct you
Then direct you into my arms

Into my arms, O Lord
Into my arms, O Lord
Into my arms, O Lord
Into my arms

And I don't believe in the existence of angels
But looking at you I wonder if that's true
But if I did I would summon them together
And ask them to watch over you
To each burn a candle for you
To make bright and clear your path
And to walk, like Christ, in grace and love
And guide you into my arms

Into my arms, O Lord
Into my arms, O Lord
Into my arms, O Lord
Into my arms

And I believe in Love
And I know that you do too
And I believe in some kind of path
That we can walk down, me and you
So keep your candles burning
And make her journey bright and pure
That she will keep returning
Always and evermore

Into my arms, O Lord
Into my arms, O Lord
Into my arms, O Lord
Into my arms

Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds

Springtime

You risk tears if you let yourself be tamed.

And when the time to leave was near:

'Ah!' the fox said. 'I shall weep.'

The Little Prince, Antoine de Sainte-Exupery

It's been the time of year where life is nuts on a sheep dairy, where we all are working 12 hour days and getting up in the middle of the night. It's a time when we feel like we will not make it through the week and we never fully tie up any loose ends. It's a mad scramble of new life and all the complications that come along with that. But, the end of this barely-keeping-the-farm-running time of year is in sight since all the lambs have been weaned from their mothers and will soon all be sent out to pasture!

The lambs cry and whine, constantly wanting to be cared for. When they are pleased, they run and jump with a crazy exuberance for the new life they now possess until they are so tired they can do nothing but lie in pile with all their brothers and sisters. Everything is a new experience, curiosity rules, and food is absolutely the best part of life.

The mothers, who surprisingly quickly recovered from the heartbreak of losing their children, are habituated to their twice daily udder cleaning and maintenance. Lining up when we are late to milk them, always expecting us when we've tamed them to expect us.They're also enjoying the glorious, but rare, sunny and warm days of lolling around in the new green growth in the pastures.

The cheese is being made from this twice daily surplus. It is made in beautiful, metallic machinery designed to do this specific job in the best and most efficient way possible. The curds are pressed, the whey is drained, the cheese is handled twice daily, as well, to ensure it ages perfectly and beautifully.

And the humans are tired, but also enjoy the rare, glowing days where we sip beer in the sunlight at the beach. We worship these days like the precious things that they are. We hear the frogs at night, the birds in the morning, and the lambs always. Spring is upon us. We see the daffodils in bloom and the tulips too, reminding us of days without anything to do but play on the beach. We appreciate, more than anything, the company of others who understand our immense tiredness but also refuse to fall asleep too early. That time where we aren't working and we are with others is cherished.

We work, not for the money, but for the meaning. We work hard, but still find every moment possible to enjoy what we do and how we do it. Constantly creating ties and reaping the rewards and effects, no matter the weeping that is caused.

A Summary of My 2013: "Let us step into the night and pursue that flighty temptress, adventure"

"We bring it into being. Let go, be led into the most full present moment," he says to me. "Do those things that make time stop for you. Watch each moment pass you by. The more you let go, the more fully you will be able to make those connections to the universe that stop time." 

We are complex by degree. These words have played in the back of my mind all year as I try to understand what I am doing, how I relate to the animals I spend so much time with everyday, who I am, and how I make sense of the mysteries of island life.

She says, "I love because my love is not dependent on the object of love. My love is dependent on my state of being. So whether the other person changes, becomes different, a friends turns into a foe, does not matter because my love was never dependent on the other person. My love is my state of being. I simply love."

While I watch the people around me drown themselves in their miscommunications and alcohol dependencies, I try to evade the loneliness that is forever haunting me. I forage and do yoga and run quickly through the woods imitating the deer I'm frightening. I write a song a day in hopes that one of them won't be awful, which is a failure of course. I sleep where I can here the tides. I sleep where I can hear the frogs, where I can't hear the parties or where I feel like I don't belong.

He sums up my thoughts perfectly, "Painting is kind of like life. When you think you have something good, you fall in love with it, you marry it. Then it just ruins it."

So we strive to become better than we are. And everything around us becomes better too.
And when we love, we always strive to become better than we are.
And I love the frog noises at night. The salmonberries. Hazy winter mornings. Sunny summer afternoons. Magic hour before the sun goes down, when the trees are golden. Spring birds in the morning. Calmness at the beach. Peace in the woods. Ocean breeze.

You say you're afraid of getting hurts. Well so am I, but I'm always more afraid of hurting you. My tongue is sharp, my mind is quick, I can do harm without control. But I do my best to only be kind and honest. Especially honest.

Just be an honest, genuine human being to everybody around you and you will become connected to the very life everything is a part of.

"Seize everything. Don't be afraid. It's easy to die."

And she explained to me, "I realized I had just entered an interesting chapter in my life. I had outgrown the boys of my past and not quite grown into the men of my future."

And he said, "It's hard to instill the importance of memorization when information is so freely and instantly available. It's become a world where the path to success is much more muddled, and social skills are beginning to seem more important than academics."

"And so I learned what solitude really was. It was raw material - awesome, malleable, older than men or worlds or water. And it was merciless-- for it let man become precisely what he alone made of himself."

Because some people fill the gaps and other emphasize my loneliness.

"The gods envy us. They envy us because we're mortal, because any moment may be our last. Everything is more beautiful because we're doomed. You will never be lovelier than you are now. We will never be here again."