From The Bunks

It's an early night tonight. The last few days, I've found it more comfortable to make a cozy nest on the floor and just pile myself up with blankets and such. It's been a great experience so far. Tonight I lay on this floor looking up at my home... so simple. So tidy. I just feasted on a dinner of clam chowder and potato bread. Time to do some reading. Still working on Atlas Shrugged... sigh...

Morning in the snow...

I woke up this morning, turned the van and the heat on full tilt, and tucked myself back into my nest. Ten minutes later, I was comfy. Way comfy. It wasn't nearly as rough as I thought it was going to be.  I love this project!

Cold and snowy.

It's 10 minutes to 11 at night, and I've burrowed myself in a cozy mummy bag under all my blankets and I'm sound as a pound. This blizzard has been the first real cold temp and deep snow test of my journey. I'm lovin it so far! It's awesome. Way drier than the snow cave was on Berthoud Pass last year. We'll see how I feel when I wake up.

The Blizzard of '09?

I wonder if that's what they'll call this sudden masterpiece of mother nature's wrath.  We went suddenly from beautiful afternoons with shorts and t-shirts to a stunning and strong snowstorm, with snow blowing and falling nearly horizontally. We got almost half a foot to a foot and a half in some places in less than 6 hours.

I was really looking forward to hunkering down in the van, but I got invited to spend the afternoon (and perhaps the evening) with a good friend's family. It os all the more touching to me that it seems that the most adverse conditions in nature spark the opposite response in humanity.

Wow, big thought: the worse circumstances turn out to be, the more we stick together and overcome the odds. Look at all of the disasters of our time, like Katrina, 9-11, even our little snowstorm here, which brings us together to help out and be helped. My friend calls it, "the upside of the downtimes". Awesome statement. Good company. Warm rooms. Tasty food. Cozy and cuddly big red dog.

Sometimes humanity is awesome.

Ancient Roots

This weekend I took a trip to Florissant to check out the Florissant Fossil Beds National Monument. When I was there, I discovered these huge, fossilized and petrified Redwood stumps. These remains of the goliath trees that are famous in northern California are collosal in their own right. Some stumps are taller than me and upwards of 12 feet in diameter.

Geologic history is fascinating to me. The way the whole planet evolves over time, and the drastic means by which it does so, puts things in perspective. It makes me realize that everything changes to suit its environment. This is something that comforts me when different problems arise in my own life. We, too, can adapt to suit our environments.

Help in Disguise

Today I was bouldering at Mt. Sanitas park near Boulder, and I snagged this picture of a crack. It looks like a nasty whole in the rock, but to a climber, this is a super awesome mega good hold. The quick analogy that I'm trying to draw here is that sometimes we see cracks in the rock when we're trying to scale some big problem of ours, and we don't realize what that fissure is capable of. We don't understand that it can be something that helps us to ascend the difficulties which lay before us. It's amazing, too, that once we do learn to identify these bits of disguised help, they suddenly appear all around us. We are immersed in a sea of tools by which we can succeed and prevail.

That's my phisolophy for the day.

The Long Road

I had a somewhat enlightening experience this past weekend.  My brother and some friends and I were exploring Arches National Park, and, while in the park, I had some time to reflect on some things about myself and my quest to do what I feel is right for me.  I contemplated things that I haven't really had a chance to ponder as of late, with a busy work schedule and a bout of sadness that corresponds to this time of year for me.  The conclusions I've come to aren't really conclusions as much as they are concepts.

Firstly, I feel like I've felt lost lately.  I feel like I don't really have a direction, wondering what I should be doing that's going to make a difference.  What I realized this past weekend is that we shouldn't spend so much time thinking about what we could be, what we should be, what we feel pressured to be.  Instead, we should start thinking about what we are, what we are good at, what we want to be better at for ourselves.  It's possible to do what you love to do and make a living off of it.  My dad just told me, "If you do something, do it on your own and for yourself."

Secondly, nature trumps God.  I know this is sort of a big concept, and it's abstract, so if you're reading this, stick with me.  There are things in life that God has no control over, just like there are things in life we have no control over.  We can't control when we are going to get sick or when our loved ones will no longer be with us.  I feel like we can do what we can to make what we have more comfortable, more effecient, more enjoyable, but there's a point where we have to just accept that things are what they are.  I think if we're created in God's image, as the Bible says, then ultimately God is also subject to the laws of nature.  If one were to follow Christian beliefs, then even God's own son fell to death's hand.  All we can ask from a God (or from any divine power) is for strength and courage to face nature with grace, will, and focus in the most positive ways.

Thirdly, family will always be there.  It's not always a biological family, but there is always someone who loves you.  Always.  It seems that no matter what goes on in your life, you will have family members you can lean on, but also family members who will need to lean on you.  These are relationships that will be tried, tested, but will ultimately be part of the person you are.

I guess the moral of this story is that life is a long, long road, but we inherently have the means to navigate this road with care and vigor.  It's our obligation to make sure we take the time to see where we are, to notice everything that will be passing us by if we don't open our eyes.