Beginning again, beginning anew.

"Write honestly and thoughtfully about what moves you."
-Molly Wizenberg

I've been reading more recently. And writing too. I've forgotten the sheer pleasure of combining words to form phrases that bring color and meaning to your imagination and of reading the combinations of others for new ideas. I didn't write for awhile, for a variety of reasons, but now I'd like to write again.

For a long time, I think the biggest roadblock (or mental block) to my writing was wondering about audience. Who is out there? Why are they reading my words? What do they think of them and of me? With wondering came worrying, with worrying came stagnation. And with that I forgot the reason that I do this. For me, writing has always been less about the creation of something and more about the remembering of something. I write because I want to remember feelings and days, moments and people. Ultimately, it's a selfish endeavor and that's the way I've always done it.

Modern Day Wild West

During the fall of 2008, my senior year of college, I participated in a set of field courses called Semester in the West. During this experience, we traveled through 8 western states and northern Mexico learning about the various environmental, political, ecological, social and humanitarian issues of each particular place. We learned that the American West is an idea, not one contiguous region; that there are different kinds of issues in each specific locale and many different ways of searching for solutions. We learned that it's hard to talk about the West as one coherent area. Rather it should be addressed as a large collection of smaller regions, each with it's own unique culture, ecosystem and associated issues. We learned that making generalizations about the West is like saying there's only one way to wear a bandana.

Upon graduating, I was lucky to spend a couple of seasons in Lee Vining, CA working for an environmental non-profit organzation who's work focused primarily on water policy and education. For several months, I lived in a water-loving, outdoor oriented bubble that was exactly what I needed at the time. I could find inspiration from people who's views were like mine - they gave me fresh perspective on the same old issues and helped me find a way to start thinking about these issues in terms of action and involvement. That's not to say that dissenting views didn't exist. Far from it, in fact. Eastern California is full of red counties, and Mono County is no exception. There are many ranch families that have been in the area for much longer than any of us "environmentalists" and they let us know it at town meetings and on the street corners. They gave us hell for many of the things we proposed. New education center? What about the native american artifacts that might exist on the land? Re-vegetation of the old airport strip? Where will the county get the money for that? But on an everyday basis, the people I worked and interacted with held the same general views and values that I did. It helped me put shape to my ideas and prioritize the issues and actions I felt were important. Sometimes it's good to agree.

After almost a year with the Committee, it was time to move on and stretch my wings a little bit. Now I find myself working on a ranch in Western Colorado where the priority is the bottom line, making sure we end up in the black, hopefully well into it, every year. The people that work at this ranch come from a very different background from those at the Committee. No Harvard-graduate, tofu-loving, prAna-wearing people here (sorry for the cascade of cliches). My new co-workers were raised on ranches all over the country. They are cattle men and women, horse men and women, hunters, and fishermen; a whole different category of outdoorsperson. And they're wonderful. They don't recycle because it involves a ninety mile round trip drive to the nearest facility. They drink bottled water because the water from the ranch cistern is laced with minerals and bugs that don't agree with our stomachs. They drive big, noisy trucks because the roads aren't plowed everyday. Even when they are, the mud can get as deep as a new snow. This time, I'm looking at the same issues from a completely different perspective that often comes to very different conclusions than I'm used to. My views are getting challenged daily by the people who. Sometimes disagreeing is important too.

Once again, my views of the West are being challenged and changed. I'm so lucky for the time I've had to explore this vast, empty part of the world and I can't wait for every new opportunity to further broaden and deepen this love and appreciation that I've developed for it.

Well, I'm here!

So I've tried to blog a bit since I've been here, but every post has either gotten interrupted or been too boring to publish, so here I go again. Here's hoping this one sticks.

I arrived in Grand Junction on January 2nd, exactly one month after I left Lee Vining. I spent a glorious month at home skiing, spending time with family and friends, buying my first car, and enjoying a full month with no work and few committments. Every time I return to Bozeman I go through a new set of emotions. It's still home, but that feeling of belonging has started to slip away. My Bozeman friends have either moved away or created new lives for themselves with people that I don't know. Much of the town itself has changed as well, and many of my favorite businesses are either gone or have moved somewhere else. I've begun to feel like a visitor in my past life when I'm in Bozeman and though that can be fun for awhile, it's also important to me to keep moving.

This past stint in Lee Vining is the longest I've been anywhere for several years. I really started to nest there and feel at home. It was hard to leave a place and a community I loved so much. However, it has inspired me to create that kind of community in any place I live. This never happens overnight, and as a result my first couple weeks in Colorado, in addition to being ridden with minor house dramas and the settling in phase at my new job, were a little rough. Beth and my work schedule is a little crazy - 8-5 with an hour long commute on either end - so we were spending a few hours each night trying to get our house furnished and livable while fighting with first frozen and then burst pipes, no dishwasher or internet.

But with a first week like that, everything else looks easy and over the last couple weeks we've really begun to settle in and enjoy our house. We live in a quiet neighborhood near the college and not too far from downtown. We've got a huge fenced backyard for our dogs (two black labs, one 11 year old, one 6 month old) and beautiful old wood floors. Grand Junction is really beginning to feel like home and I'm beginning to measure my time here in years rather than months.

In our time off, we try to adventure and explore as much as possible. We spent a great weekend in Laramie with good friends from Africa. We watched lots of football, reminisced about study abroad experiences and went to a phenomenal country show at a cowboy bar. We spent a weekend skiing on the mesa and are planning for many more.

On top of all of this, I've been playing some volleyball at the Gold's Gym here and meeting some really great people. One new friend even spent a good deal of time in Lee Vining/June Lake and is the nephew of a park ranger that I knew there. I never cease to be amazed by the connections between people.

One final note - Beth and I are working really hard to train for a half marathon. She'll run one on March 12th in Little Rock, AR and depending on her recovery, hopefully run one with me the following weekend here in Gateway, CO. In order to motivate ourselves to keep up the training, we've registered for a 10k in two weeks in Fruita. I've done a bit of running here and there in my post-college life, but I've never really had races to train for (not because I want to do well, simply because I don't want to keel over and die) so it's really nice to have that date looming in the back of my head each morning when I wake up at 4:45 and think, "Wouldn't it be easier just to go back to sleep?"

All in all, things are going well here. I'm keeping very busy and enjoying most of my daily goings on. I don't have any pictures to post because I've been super lazy about taking pictures, but hopefully soon that will change. We skied Powderhorn on Sunday and the view from the top of Grand Mesa was breathtaking. Flat-top mountains that fold in onto themselves and form this crinkle-scape that catches light and casts shadow with incredibly minute detail. It's unlike any place I've lived before and I'm looking forward to becoming intimate with this landscape.

Saying Goodbye

This place has been home and it's going to be hard to leave. Here is a brief list of some of the things I'm going to miss:

-The mountains. They are the landscape here. They divide our quiet slice of the state from the hustle and bustle of the west side. They provide recreational opportunities during every season and they are the reason that most people live here. Some people feel insignificant in front of huge mountains. I feel protected. It reminds me that there still are wild places out there, they just have to be found.

-The lake. After all, it's the reason I came here in the first place. Because of the lake, I have become an educator. Because of the lake I have found love. Because of the lake I have challenged myself intellectually, socially, physically and emotionally. Because of the lake I've had a home here for the past 7 months.

-The people. This is a transient place. People here are generally nomadic. This is both amazing and the most tragic thing imaginable. It means that each season a whole new crop of young, energetic people arrive in town. In a town of 400 people, you never expect to find 30 people who could potentially be your best friend. That's how summer is here. But then fall comes and everyone leaves. Everyone always leaves. And then you discover that there is a whole separate community aside from the seasonal sector. There is a school here with kids and parents and all the things any other town has, just smaller. One of the best things I did here was to get involved with that side of the community. Coaching at the high school has introduced me to some of the best people and most rewarding relationships I could have hoped for.

-The solitude and quiet. You don't move to a place like this without knowing how to be alone. I'm so grateful for the good friends I've made here, but I'm also grateful that I've gotten to spend time by myself - hiking, swimming, biking, thinking - and have really begun to understand who I am and what makes me happy. I'll take the wind rustling through the Jeffrey pines and a Great Horned Own who-whooing under a spectacular array of stars on a frigid fall night over traffic and sirens and neon lights any day, even if it means I have to drive 30 minutes for the nearest cup of coffee.

-My job. I don't know how I got so lucky. Every day I get to spend time with kids teaching them the value of spending time outside. Together, we discover things they never knew about themselves and about the world. We talk about stream ecology standing ankle deep in Rush Creek. We think about the differences between a Jeffrey pine and a pinion pine with a cone from each in our hands. We discuss climate change standing in the shadow of Califonia's biggest refrigerator - the Sierras. We address real world issues while we're out there, in the real world, apart from computer screens and cell phones. My co-workers provide me with support, new ideas and many, many laughs. I have the best job in the world.

It's time to move on now, and my feelings are very mixed. My next step will take me to a new and different place, but so many of these little details will be missing. Surely I'll find many things to love about Colorado too, but for now I'll be dreaming of following a great blue heron down the Lee Vining Creek Trail, of standing on top of Glass Mountain and seeing the entire Eastern Sierra laid out in front of me, and of wandering through the tufa with Violet Green swallows darting and weaving through the air around me.

Lee Vining, Mono Basin, Eastern Sierra: I will miss you.

Why I'm Thankful

Apparently it's trendy to make lists of why you're thankful. I've never been one to follow trends - I'm doing this simply because for me, the biggest thing is always family and friends and this year I was not with either. But don't worry, this is not going to be a whiny, you should all feel sorry for me kind of post. Rather, I hope it will be quite the opposite.

First, let me start by saying that as the years go by and especially now that I'm not in school anymore, I'm beginning to really learn and appreciate the value of family and friends. These people have made me who I am today, they continue to support me as I move forward in my own endeavors, they let me lean on them, depend on them, call them at all hours of the day (and night), ask ridiculous favors of them and give me their love. I wouldn't be who I am or where I am without them. So naturally, it was a little difficult to spend the day without any of these people. Last year, I was lucky enough to be surrounded by a great group of friends when I was stuck in a far away city. Here is a picture from our wonderful night:

And to my family, there are not enough words to explain how important you are to me. I'm so glad we've had the opportunity to travel together and visit each other even though we live in different states (and sometimes different countries). This photo was taken during the week of my college graduation:

Today, I actually had to work. I've mentioned previously that I teach environmental education to at-risk youth from Los Angeles. I've learned more about the diversity of lifestyle and experience within our own country this summer than I have in all of my previous travels throughout the US. The group we have right now is an group of high school alumni that have made an almost annual trip up to the Mono Basin for the past 7 years. They come from very different backgrounds and have very different interests now that they're a little more grown up and some are even in college, but a trip to Mono Lake is an important way for them to stay connected to one another. Some have very close knit families, some have no families at all, but this trip and this holiday was important to each and every one of them because for these five days they are surrounded by people who love them and know them better than any other people in the world. To watch their interactions, their respect and appreciation for one another, the way they crack each other up for no apparent reason (at least it's not apparent to me), they way they look up to Santiago, my boss, is absolutely inspiring. I've only known them for two days, but they have included Michael and me in every part of their tradition and are open and honest with their feelings and thoughts about this place. Rather than feeling sorry for myself today, I felt blessed to be around such kind and caring people.

-I'm thankful for my job. I get to work outside every day with kids who's eyes are opened to a whole new world beyond the city during the time their with us.

-I'm thankful for my co-workers. We've had our ups and downs this season, but at the end of the day, they are kind men who have the best interests of our team and the kids we work with at heart. They give of themselves to provide an amazing opportunity for kids who may not have a chance to experience something like this again. And they support me as I learn and come into my own as an educator.

-I'm thankful for this wonderful place that I've gotten to call home for the past 7 months. Each cardinal direction holds a different view equally beautiful and worthy of exploration.

-I'm thankful for my friends who love me even when I go for 6 months without contacting them. They make me laugh and give depth to my existence. To quote one of my kids this summer, "You're like elevator music. You make the ride more fun."

-But most of all I'm thankful for my family. To my parents who taught me curiosity and to have a sense of adventure and who understand when that takes me to Africa or Ecuador or the middle of nowhere in Colorado. And to my sister who has taught me to use my imagination. With those three tools, what else could you possibly need? I love you guys and I'm missing you today.

Moonlit Glides and First Turns

I have a love/hate relationship with the state of California. I mean, what's to love about a state that pulls money from education programs and state park funding to pay our politicians? That pulls people out of prison rather than raise taxes to balance the budget? But how can you possibly hate a place that opens its ski hills the second week of November? That has the highest mountains and the lowest valleys in the country? My relationship with California: it's complicated.

I'll be leaving this state soon so it's nice to go out on a positive note, or should I say a snowy one? I've missed real winter for the last couple years, but growing up in Montana I developed a healthy appreciation for snow and cold weather. When our forecast began calling for feet of snow last week I got ridiculously excited. I stared out the window just waiting for the clouds to begin piling up behind the Sierras, for the sky to darken and for those first feeble little flakes to begin falling. It was hard to remember what feet of snow was like. I started making all kinds of plans for the snow - skiing, sledding, skiing and more skiing. And snow it did. Between Friday night and Sunday afternoon we logged about 9 inches here in town with between 3-5 feet falling in the mountains.

The clouds finally began to clear a bit on Sunday afternoon so my housemate Julia and I took advantage of a beautiful full moon to ski out to Panum Crater. Highway 120 had not been plowed and as soon as we skated away from the car it felt like we were the only people in the world. Snow inspires an incredible stillness. It muffles the sounds of crunching gravel, snapping branches and rustling leaves, and the quiet at Panum Crater was almost deafening.

http://www.blackcatweavery.com/LakeTahoe2007.htm

The next morning, my other housemate Morgan and I left the house early to get to Mammoth Mountain in time for an 8:30 opening. The wind must have been blowing 40 mph most of the day, but that didn't stop us from getting in some early season turns. We both just purchased telemark equipment, so I was showing Morgan how to drop her knee and ski for real! The snow (that hadn't blown away) was fluffy and beautiful and we had a great day! Even met up with friend Clif for the afternoon and challenged ourselves on some steeper slopes.

Photo courtesy of http://4-mammoth-condos.com/

These Sierras have been a truly remarkable place to call home. I know I say too often and it starts to lose its meaning, but the variety of ways to play out here (and people who want to play) continue to astound me. Many thanks to all who have made this place home for the past two summers. I'll miss you and these sentinel mountains more than I can ever express.

A compliment

"As we drove through Wyoming and Utah I thought of you, because even though it's not Colorado, for some reason you just remind me of the west :-)"

Thanks, ex-roomie!