Category: whimsy

The moral, like the melody, is open to interpretation.

Leonard Michaels on Stories

“‘Whereof we cannot speak,’ says the great philosopher Wittgenstein, ‘we must be silent.’ But it is also true that, whereof we cannot speak, we dream, or tell stories.”

“Events become meaningful as they become — at some amazing turn — stories, just as notes become meaningful, retrospectively, in a melody. The moral, like the melody, is open to interpretation.”

Writing is cathartic, so it always comes out darker than how I’m actually feeling. It delivers me into the possibility of another story, another life. My next chapter. The storytelling helps me search for meaning within the history, within the otherwise sad events that hopefully lead to clarity and growth.

Over and over again, my anthem to get beyond all this:
By redefining the morning,
we find a morning that comes just after darkness.
By insisting on love we spoil it, get beyond
affection and wade mouth-deep into love.
Love is not
enough. We die and are put into the earth forever.
We should insist while there is still time.

🎶 dooo bee doo, jams of the moment:

You’ll Lose a Good Thing – Denise LaSalle
Trapped By a Thing Called Love – Denise LaSalle (cheers, POTUS!)
In Your Arms – Chef’special
Jealous – Labrinth
Good Love Is On The Way – John Mayer Trio
Heartless – Kanye West
New Day – 50 Cent, Dr. Dre, Alicia Keys
I’m Gonna Find Another You – John Mayer
Better – The Suffers
Say You Love Me – Jessie Ware
Let Me Down Easy – Max Frost
Valerie (BBC Radio 1 Live Lounge version) – Amy Winehouse
Send My Love (To Your New Lover) and like, anything else by Adele. Sorry not sorry.

thoughts on hiking

walking on the lake at sundown-00775

reprise (see notes on traveling with a backpack from 2013 — all of which still held true this time, too!)

thoughts on hiking/backpacking, unedited.

are you a little bit afraid of what lies ahead? good, that means you’re doing the work you need to do.
gorge yourself on all the online personal accounts of what it’s like to hike a trail. then forget it all, because it will be different for you.
have hope for the future. anticipate it. but don’t let it stop you from enjoying the present.
learn to improvise.
go at your own pace if possible. this is not a competition.
your body will be different as you get older. listen to it, it’s ok if walking takes longer. be kind to yourself.
rocks are very useful for holding tent stakes down.
laugh.
always bring a snack. practice making it last longer. save some for the uphill climbs.
i’ve never had short hair while completing a thru-trail hike until now, and it is AWESOME. no dreads this time, +++
perform small rituals to grow as a person. here, while out of the way of connectivity with the world, take the time to connect with yourself.
hiking to lose weight never works because afterward all you want is cookies and cake and you also feel like “f*ck it, I deserve it”
meet other travelers. talk to them. learn things about the land, the country, the animals (or lack thereof). ask questions.
bring a notebook. write your thoughts down.
read at night. it feels like a luxury.
don’t be too proud to ask for help.
if you can’t sleep, it’s still pretty amazing to walk outside at 3am and see nothing but land and sky and remaining (or impending) light.
don’t drink too much water before bed because it might be freezing outside and you’ll have to suffer the “do i get out of my sleeping bag or hold it?” dilemma.
note to self: a fanny pack would be really awesome next time.
pack less than you want to. but recognize the small luxuries that will be worth their weight.
you will not feel clean. and that’s ok.
bring really good socks of different colors. even when dusty, they will make you happy. and you’ll be able to tell them apart!
don’t worry, everyone else’s socks smell just like yours do.
don’t be anxious, be prepared.
wear your f-in’ sunscreen!
keep your receipts.
figure out the humidity so you know how quickly (or slowly) your stuff will dry.
indulge when it’s in front of you. cake is cake. you quickly learn the value of cake when it’s offered to you in the middle of nowhere.
ziploc bags are super-duper handy.
go with someone you love talking to, but with whom you can also be silent comfortably.
… preferably also someone who will belt out Disney songs with you on the last stretch!
have a reward waiting for you. a meal, a song, dessert, puffins, cartwheels, whatever floats your boat.
put down your backpack when you arrive at camp. go for a walk, and marvel at how light you feel.
just when you think the last landscape *had* to be the MOST-BEAUTIFUL-and-best-thing-on-this-earth and there is no way anything can top it — a new one comes into view and takes your breath away. meaning, it will all be ok. leave your past behind you. take a photo. remember it, carry it with you because you are human and to be human means you must carry it. but go forward, knowing that the next turn will bring you joy and be every bit as beautiful in a different way.

#Hamilversary

(a.k.a. in which I listen to the Hamilton soundtrack on repeat as part of the attempt to get over you)

Say,
That would be enough.
Say you’d still want this:
us alive, right here, feeling lucky.

— Ada Limón

mountains and rivers to reach you

Headphones on, bus rumbling through rivers. Rain falling. “Should we climb mountains and cross rivers together?” I asked. “Of COURSE we should,” you responded.

So we did our best in the weather that was given to us. You promised me an adventure, and we sang so many songs along the way. We have arrived at the end of the trail, bursting from all the tough terrain and beauty that is now behind us. I come away from it, quietly delighting in the way we got so close to it all and yet managed to remain so far. “Just call it horizon, & you’ll never reach it.” I hold the topography of your landscape close inside me as I watch it grow smaller in the rearview mirror. “Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,” you send to me some final lines of poetry. I resolve to comply.

“Beep beep boop,” chirped my phone as it revived itself in the world of reception. “Beep beep boop,” I responded, trying to speak a language you’d understand.

***

After I walked to the edge of the world and back, the big all-terrain wheels of the bus shook me from side to side. The movement made everyone else nauseous — yet all I wanted to do was write about my feelings. “That’s probably a metaphor for your life,” my friend tells me solemnly after I recount my actions. “You should blog it.”

And it’s #Hamilversary today! So just for fun, in lieu of emo poetry, here’s our love story in too many parts, composed on a bus-and-plane ride, told only in lyrics excerpted and rearranged from a musical.