What I am afraid of admitting I am afraid of

Today I made a list. For those of you who know me, this would come as no surprise. But this was no ordinary clean-out-the-fish-tank-filter type of list. I started compiling a list of everything I could possibly think of that makes me afraid.

We all fear things; fear is one of our most basic emotions and it fuels our paths through life, whether or not we decide to use it to our advantage. But we are often afraid (puns come free with this post) to admit the things we are afraid of. Many of us try to perform activities that conquer our fears, or take us out of our comfort zones. Yet half the time I feel I am afraid of so much, from the mammoth to the minute, that I don't know how to go about conquering anything. We are told to "face" our fears, but how do we take this metaphorical advice and turn it into something tangible, something we can hold in our hands?

Make a list, of course!

So I did, and the results were enlightening to say the least. I suggest you try this exercise: either type or handwrite (whichever you feel more comfortable with), stream-of-consciousness style and without stopping for 5 minutes, a list of anything that you are afraid of...anything! I started my list with the phrase, "I am afraid of," and went down the page from there. See what you come up with; you may arrive at some interesting conclusions. I won't share with you my whole list, since some of it is intensely private - and that's the point of making the list - but I will feature a few items that I found to be of interest to demonstrate the variety of fears my brain conjured up with only a bit of coaxing:

I am afraid of:

• My dog chasing a squirrel into a busy road
• Cellulite
• Global warming
  
• Not helping other people enough
• Worrying too much
• Responsibilities
• Being too much like myself (??)

Can you relate to any of these? I have found, since compiling my fears into somewhat of a tally, that I can now try to connect the dots and see which fears directly affect the others and so forth. I hope to be able to make some concrete observations about how I react to forces that influence my every-day life, then make a plan of action to work toward either letting some fears go, or using them to my advantage. I also suggest adding to the list whenever something pops into your head. Or try the exercise from time to time and see how your fears change or disappear.

Please feel free to share any of your findings if you try this exercise. I'll be interested to see if anyone else benefits from it as I have. Don't be scared, give it a try!

(Aren't free puns great?)

Summer Holiday

Photo by Ryan Smith

The lake bottom is cocoa brown as my canoe whispers through the water above it; my oar is a spoon in silky hot chocolate. The tips of pine trees cast patches of morning sun along the edges of the bank as I peer down into the water. A glimmer of something in the muck catches my eye, perhaps a remnant from one of our many water games over years of summers here. I pass over a twisted log that has lived at the silty bottom as long as I can remember, like an ancient, slumbering frog that we imagined might suddenly open its lake-scum eyes as we dove down just for the scare of it and swam back up again, reaching for the safety of the sunny sky above. This sludgy floor is the dusty treasure chest holding all the mysteries, dreams, and memories of every sunrise and sunset between the months of May and August during every summer of my life at Highland Lake in Northern Pennsylvania.

Summers cannot exist without the lake, and the lake cannot exist without summers. Our time spent here is a sensual experience through and through. The season is allowed to fully bloom into itself, and so are we – my Parents, Siblings, Cousins, Aunts, Uncles, and Grandparents, who congregate here every year for days and days of summertime delight. The lake enkindles each of our senses: a bare foot padding over damp earth and moss, the wind chimes twinkling in the boat house as waves lap softly against the bow of the sailboat, chicken “speedies” on the grill (a local favorite) with peachy Finger Lakes wine, the gray outlines of bats swooping between the pines and over the water as the sun sets behind the trees, and the smell of the wood stove in the cottage on cool days. All these experiences exist for us now and tomorrow, but they are also steeped in the past, conjuring up memories that enrich every moment.

Each of us has a special place we long for or go to for refuge from the big, wild world. It may be as vast as a park or as small as a pleasant corner or sitting area in the house. Highland Lake serves this purpose for me; I know my family members who stay at the lake during the summers would say the same. We are so lucky to have it. Where is your special place in the world?

Please note: I apologize for having been away from my blog for a good while...I have no other excuse than that I was at the lake. I hope to get back to my regular writing schedule now that the summer holidays are winding down. Thanks as always for reading!

Where the Heart Is

I am home. My sails are still flapping in the breeze, but my ship is in port. I have not felt this grounded in a long time, having only visited my hometown several times a year for the past decade. This is the ultimate cure for homesickness: coming home. I have unpacked the homesickness that has been dwelling in my belly for years and have stored it away in a drawer, perhaps in safe-keeping for future journeys. In its stead, the warmest feelings of reconnection with family, friends, and myself have been taking shape over the past week or so since we have arrived here. Something as simple as a bike ride reminds me of how it felt to be 15, tracing the same paths across town that I did in my youth, feeling the same burn in my thighs as I crest a familiar hill.

I left my hometown of Mercersburg, Pennsylvania when I was 17 years old, having just graduated from high school, on my way to college in Boston, Massachusetts. Every move after college (from Boston, to Moscow, Idaho, to Austin, Texas) involved, all at once, the excitement of the next step and a deep yearning for my hometown. Would I ever be able to feel at "home" again? Was Mercersburg the only place I could feel that way? What the heck was I going to do in my hometown if I every moved back? Despite my longing for it, moving home always seemed to be more complicated than moving somewhere else far, far away. I convinced myself over the years that "home" was an elusive figment of the mind and could be achieved anywhere if the conditions were right. But I never felt the strong sense of home I was looking for and knew deep down that in order to find out if Mercersburg really was "home," I was going to have to move there. My husband, who is also from Mercersburg, and I agreed that it was time to stop talking about moving and just go for it, despite the risks involved (mostly in regards to our business). Luckily for us, the opportunity presented itself and the move was facilitated quite nicely.

So, was I right? Did we really need to take the plunge and move to Mercersburg (or at least the Northeast) to truly feel at home? Well...yes, so it seems at this juncture. Despite certain aspects about the town that we could "live" without, it really is a special place, and many of my friends who grew up here agree (and have moved back over the years as well). Not everyone grows up in a town to which they long to return; I feel fortunate that I have and look forward to finally taking advantage of the many positive aspects about living here. Here's a quick list of wonderful things I have noticed about the area since I've been back (particularly in comparison to my former, albeit great, life in Austin):

• We are now surrounded by green, voluptuous mountains with little valleys and towns in between
• The corn is as high as an elephant's eye; the fields surround me as I go for walks with my dog
• I only have 3 bars to choose from (yes, I actually like have less choices), all of which are within walking distance
• There are only 2 red lights in Mercersburg and therefore only 2 chances to run into a traffic "jam"
• Big, fun cities such as Washington, D.C., Philadelphia, and New York, are just a hop, skip, and a jump away, easily satisfying any urges to live the city life again
• Rent is cheap, and beer is cheaper

I could go on, and I may in later posts. Obviously, being closer to family and many of my old friends has already made the move more than worthwhile.

Note: My posts may be lacking in visual aid for the time being, unlike many in the past. I will hopefully have Internet access on my own computer soon, from which I will be able to post photos. For now, I am at the whim of family members' computers and Internet connections.

I am so glad I can keep up with my blog anywhere I go and hope all my readers are having a great summer!

Saying Goodbye to Texas, Part 2

We leave tomorrow for the great state of Pennsylvania! We are very excited, though I have been getting knots in my throat from time to time...very bittersweet. Here are some photos from our farewell party at the Broken Spoke this past Thursday for your viewing pleasure. It was a ton of fun and we thank everyone for coming out to celebrate with us! Alright folks, see you on the other side!

Max and Brechyn, on the way to the Broken Spoke

Brechyn and Larissa celebrate in each others' arms!

Brian and Ana

Karl (Yarrrrl)

We're two-steppin' fools


Howdy partner!

Ryan and Larissa dance one of their last dances at the Spoke

Everyone wave goodbye!

Hey Jesse Ray!

Ana and Brechyn snuggle

Things got a little wild toward the end

And a bit hokey!

After-party at the Continental Club Gallery!

Kari and Larissa get close

Larissa, Lauren, and Brechyn

And then it was off to Magnolia Cafe for some late-night eats!

Goodbye Austin!

Favorite Song Update #1

Hi Folks! I will be posting periodically my favorite song(s) of the moment. Since I have such a strong love of music, I thought it would be fun to share not only what I'm doing and thinking about on my blog, but also what I'm listening to!

For the past several months, my favorite song has been (and continues to be) "Cheap Like Sebastien" by Apostle of Hustle.

Check out their website - http://www.arts-crafts.ca/apostleofhustle/index2.html, click on "Music", then the "National Anthem of Nowhere" album, and scan through until you see/hear the song "Cheap Like Sebastien." I highly recommend this song and album.

Also, I have added to my links in the bar on the right side of the screen the myspace page of my sister's and my band, The Hello Strangers.

Happy Listening!

Saying Goodbye to Texas, Part 1

This Saturday, Ryan and I visited the parents of one of our friends in San Antonio. We had a lovely time with good company. We barbecued in their yard, sat around the dining room table during an afternoon rain, and relaxed in the muted, post-rain sunshine after a delicious dinner. As Ryan and I spoke to our friend's father in the yard, I started to shift my focus from listening to our conversation, to listening and noticing him in his environment - a big-picture view. I was reminded at that moment of one of the many reasons why I appreciate having lived in so many places around the country and world: I find myself in the welcoming homes and company of so many wonderful and interesting people that I may not have ever had the chance to run into. There we sat with him, hundreds of miles away from our hometown, the other towns we have lived in (such as Moscow, Idaho, and Boston, Massachusetts), with many friends and family scattered about. We were even an hour and a half drive from our home base away from home, Austin. We were both visitors to San Antonio and to Texas in a way (even after four years, I still don't feel like a true Texan). But what I felt in that moment was an immense sense of place, albeit a portable, nomadic sense of place, like something I could pack up and take with me. This, after all, was his space, the world he had created for himself, and we were invited to glimpse it and get comfortable in it, even for just a few hours.

I have felt this nomadic sense of place and belonging before, over the years of being invited into the worlds of many people out West, back East, and across the seas. We wave goodbye to them all eventually and head on down the road. But we never forget the glimpses, the snapshots we take for our memories, and the people woven into the fabric of our lives.


This evening I went for a jog along Town Lake, the section of the Colorado River that runs through the center of Austin. The immense amounts of rain we have been experiencing in Central Texas has caused all the waterways to swell, forcing the river authority to open the dams full-throttle. Our passive, mopey "river" has become a torrential deluge, charging with its army of white caps through the center of town. There is a point on the North side of the river path where the currents are at their peak (see above). It was there that my jogging feet this evening were hypnotized into a zombie-like stride toward the river's edge. I joined a small group of passersby, mesmerized as I was by the swells rarely seen in our fair city. I could tell everyone was caught in the middle of their usual Sunday evening activities - biking, jogging, strolling - when they stopped to see this strange occurrence taking place in their city.


Like a comet passing through the atmosphere, these waves were a fleeting site not to be missed. For those two minutes or so that I stood there, feeling my elevated heart rate slowing, I felt a connection with the strangers around me and to my city that I have loved for four years.

I am not saddened by these moments, or by saying goodbye to our friends in San Antonio, Austin, Idaho, or wherever we may drive away from in the future. For these are the gifts I have been given for leaping a bit farther from the nest than I could have, and keeping my heart open to anyone willing to answer my knock and invite me in.

Magnum Opus

I had the chance this evening to watch, for the first time in many years, the best movie I have ever seen: “To Kill A Mockingbird.” It reminded me that the greatest and most beautiful achievements of nature and man are often rare gems, not often found or experienced. When you chance upon one of these gems, you know immediately the great importance of it; how you feel all at once the weight of it in your gut and the soaring of your heart, just to have had the honor to experience it for yourself. With all the muck we have to wade through each day – watching our fellow humans display immense ignorance, apathy, bigotry, and avarice – it is comforting to know that true works of art, breakthroughs of science, miracles of nature, and pure kindness of heart are expressed and created every second of every day.

I am reminded that there is a greater reason for being on this earth besides the basic motives of propagation and survival. With the rest of the natural world, we humans share the ability and entitlement to express in some way something inside ourselves that cannot always be explained through logic or rhetoric. Creativity coexists with functionality. The spider’s web glistens with intricate beauty as it fastens its tiny threads ever tighter around the carcass of the arachnid's next meal. The flower not only inspires the bee to pollinate and continue the cycle of life, it inspires the human mind to conjure up the most poetic of verses. We have the ability to create films that inspire the masses, and piece together sound frequencies to form musical sequences that summon up emotion in even the most detached souls. Even the creation of a child demonstrates our ability to pass on, through the nurturing of this new being, expressions of deep-down love, emotionality, and ingenuity.

In essence, we were created to create. No matter what our religious or spiritual affiliations, this ability to craft, invent, and design is truly a gift from some higher power; from a source of unfathomable influence. But it is manifested from within us, forming like a seed inside and springing forth when the conditions are right. It comes from us and not from us, for we are in the universe and the universe is in us. And though there are those rare gems and masterpieces that we experience from time to time, every creation has been nurtured by someone or something in order for it to manifest. Of course, humans cannot help but critique everything that crosses our path. But we must remember that at its basic form, no matter what motive someone may have for making it, a creation represents something so pure and true that no amount of subjectivity can undermine it. We must bear this in mind as we walk through this world and experience its many creative expressions.

Photo by Ryan Smith