Birthday Wishes

Today is my birthday, and I want to wish myself a happy one! I woke up 48 years old today! But look, I'm excited about my birthday, just like a 9 year-old. I stepped out in the driveway before getting into my car for the drive into work. It had stormed all night, so I was expecting torrential rain. I looked up at the black and grey streaked heavy sky and saw a patch of blue and pink, the sun chasing away the angry clouds! Stepping out of my car in the parking lot, the air smelled scrubbed clean, the the perfumed petals of blossoms sweetened the air. I paused to consider all the things in life that offer up beauty and respite. I thought of the gift of living life and growing older and wiser. I thought of my fortunes--the love and birthday wishes from a caring, passionate, and energetic partner; my mom and dad; Earl &Lori; my friends, Amanda, Dave, and Andre. A job enables me to be independent and solvent with some to spare and some to share. A strong physical and mental constitution. My sweet kitty. Upcoming adventures. Books to read. Nieces to dote on. A garden to tend.  Meals to share with friends. Sunrises and sunsets. A house to call home.

I love my simple life.
I simply have everything.

Take a Little Time

It's a busy week--at work, running my artist hostel, hosting a going-away dinner party for a friend, and getting things organized to spend a long weekend at Larry's to celebrate my birthday. If thriving = high productivity, then you could say that I thrive in busy times. But what else can thrive mean--it means growing strong, propagating, shining, blooming. Checking items off my list gives me a certain peace of mind, but actually doing the work to get them checked off usually puts me in a Fast Forward frame of mind--do, do, do, go, go, go! Don't stop, don't pause, don't think, don't stop working til every item is checked, and the faster you do it the better! 

Is fast really better? Fast has its time and place.

Spring is not one of those times.

Spring is my favorite time of the year. Around mid-April, the trees start blossoming, and they grace us only briefly. With high winds and driving rains prominent in Spring, their life span is cut even shorter. I know this much about myself: I must breathe in every second possible of this beautiful yet fleeting season. Like the tiny leaves and fragrant blossoms, I feel full of hope and bliss every spring. I must not let productivity deride my most basic instinct to slow down and breathe in.

Last night I was harried and annoyed after a hurry-up-and-wait day at work, and I had many items on my To Do list for the dinner party the following night. I nearly gave in to productivity, but I took a minute, took inventory, and realized, after next week, the blossoms will be gone. You'll have to wait a whole year to see them again.

I threw on shorts and grabbed my camera and dashed off to Eagle Creek and sunk into the forest. I stood on the tall banks of the reservoir and felt the sunlight bounce off the water and warm my bones while the cool wind refreshed my skin. I listened to migratory water birds and local forest birds and tiny tree frogs and cacophonous chorus frogs welcome spring with their songs and chirps. I breathed in trillium blossoms and fuchsia red buds and white dogwood. I walked around a pond, watching the tadpoles dart around. I thought of the long summer days I spent in the park with Primo, and 14 years ago suddenly seemed the lifetime ago that it actually was.

It was getting late, and I still had so much to do at home. I contemplated leaving but got a better idea. I decided to do my run there! I stashed my camera, and dashed off onto the mostly deserted trails. No humans, no biting bugs. The soft terra firma cushioned the blow of each step, and the myriad species of trees and plants, their young leaves tender and brave capturing my imagination. 

I was getting close to hitting my 3 mile goal and the sun was sinking low. I needed to go. But as I rounded a bend, something caught my eye just a foot away--a giant pileated woodpecker working his way around a tree. He was as big as pheasant, and my presence seemed to annoy him, still he let me stop in my tracks and take in his bright red cockscomb and striking black and white photos. I laughed, thinking of how much I loved hearing them on camping trips, and how Larry cursed them for waking him at the crack of dawn. He flew off, and so did I--

--for about five steps, when I came nearly face to face with a young beautiful deer. We stopped in our tracks and stared at each other. Then I noticed another, and another, and another--7 altogether, watching me as intently I watched them. They raised the white flag of their tails and galloped off--and so did I.

I continued my run, then did a cool down by bidding adieu to the sun setting over the reservoir. I drove home happy and refreshed.

I got home and decided to start the lasagna for the dinner party when I realized I had forgotten a key ingredient at the store--ricotta cheese. I rolled my eyes, not wanting to go to yet another store, then decided to make due. I hunted through my cupboards and came up with an alternate menu. Impromptu and resourceful.

Impromptu. Make due. And for the last time--make time for yourself!

Mr. Woodpecker


Beautiful sprays of redbuds


Oak-tree flowers


Paw-Paw in bloom


Fragrant Trout Lilly


Virginia Bluebells

I Dropped Out

Over a month ago, I left Facebook to avoid nonstop political commentary, which left me frustrated. 

I've left FB many times for various reasons--usually because I spend too much energy on what other people are doing or wondering how and if they validate me. I go back on after several months, and then I get overwhelmed and leave again. 

I also went on a no media diet at the same time--no radio, no newspapers, no TV news. I am completely out-of-the-loop on current events. 

Current events from last year until November '16 = presidential candidates calling each other liars.
Murders
Rapes
Abductions
Government corruption
Government interference:

I am aware that Pence has YET AGAIN stripped Hoosiers of rights, but this time he's after women of child-bearing age.

I don't even listen to NPR anymore. I listen to books on CD. So far:

Gangsta by Kw'aan (3 out of 5 stars)
Under Magnolia by Frances Keyes (2 out of 5 stars--quit listening on account of it being tedious)
Life Sentences by Laura Lipman (current rating: 4 out of 5 stars)

I'm happier as a drop out. I felt largely incapable of changing anything that was happening in the media. I can vote, and I will. But having all that knowledge and no power to change anything left me feeling frustrated and often angry. I have decided to eliminate those two sources of those two emotions.

A New Name! This Lady is a TRAMP!

My blog needs a new name.

When I started it four years ago, "Journey" was not a buzzword and not a popular name of Gen Y-er's kids. (The "Ashley" of the TwoThousandTeens) So I've changed my name to Trip. (It was short notice. I could change it again.)

I really like Journey In Place. I came up with the name and the idea, and I still live by it. (On days I remember to live. What? Some days I go into AutoPilot. Shame on me.) But I sound like a damn wannabe with this name Journey. I sound like I read cute little helpful watered-down inspirational books available at Wal-Mart. I do not read cute little inspirational books! I hate cute inspiration!

To be completely honest, though, I don't always 100% hate Wal-Mart, so there. Sometimes the place is damn handy, especially late at night when I need emergency frijoles negros, wiper blades, a phone charger, and a cute hoodie on clearance for $5.

So...new name? Brainstorming...

Earth Tripper

Earth to Me

How To...(Fill in the Blank)

Station Wagon Kid (I'm not a kid)

Stories from the Station Wagon (I don't actually have a station wagon.)


So I types "Journey" into Thesaurus.com (a writer's favorite website), and I find the gem--

VAGABONDAGE!!!!!

I've heard of Vagabond.

But truth be told, I've never heard of VagabondAGE!

It is the most contradictory word I've ever seen--one part meaning transient and one part meaning stuck!

Vagabond:

adjective

1.

wandering from place to place without any settled home; nomadic:

a vagabond tribe.

2.

leading an unsettled or carefree life.

3.

disreputable; worthless; shiftless.

4.

of, relating to, or characteristic of a vagabond:

vagabond habits.

5.

having an uncertain or irregular course or direction:

a vagabond voyage.

I am sort of aimless, truth be told.

I don't know where I'm going.

(Must not follow up with Whitesnake lyric, "But I do know where I've been...")

I am MOST CERTAINLY UNCERTAIN MOST OF THE TIME.

Irregular. Yes.
Unsettled. Hmm. Sort of.
I started this blog as a means to help myself feel more settled.
Carefree. Well to some people I probably seem carefree because I do not have children. But I care, people! I care! About Stuff! All Kinds of it!

Okay, Definition 3, I really don't need your judgement! But, hell. Why lie? Who here actually knows me? Might as well tell the truth. I have at one time or another in minute degrees been or felt   "disreputable," "worthless," and "shiftless."


Here's another doozy of a word to describe this whole business! Oh words, I love you so!

Peregrination!

noun

1.

travel from one place to another, especially on foot.

2.

a course of travel; journey.

Is it the opposite of Origination?



A synonym is to vagabond is

TRAMP.

I like Tramp.

It can be a noun or a verb.

I like it when one word can be both.

I like the verb:

3.

to walk steadily; march; trudge.

I like TRAMP as a name.

But so would some UNSAVORY types.

So Trip it is.

It works.

I take trips.
What a trip.
As a verb, I trip a lot, literally and metaphorically.

(Must not follow up with lyric by mid-nineties song by band whose name I never bothered to learn that goes "but I get up again, you ain't never gonna keep me down." Oh wait. I don't often GET knocked down. I more often do that to myself. I trip. I'm a tripper. A Day Tripper.

Day By Day Tripping with the Tramp

No, wait!

It's not TRIP anymore.

It's now Peregrine!

A Lost Post: Cloak of Invisibility

Early November 2014, I jotted this down. It's not great, but I'm feeling strong enough to be vulnerable.



I never had a security blanket.
Too afraid my siblings would kick the crap out of me.
You grow up fast when you're the youngest.
If growing up means pretending not to be scared.
and never voicing what you want or taking what's yours
or not talking much at all
Just so they can't tell you No
You'd rather ask nothing and hear nothing
Nothing is better than no, you think
when you're the youngest
No is the worst word in the world
It means it's all true
That you're young, and little, and insignificant
And you don't want to believe it
Even though you do

It's easy to feel safe when you're the littlest
(safe not brave, completely opposite)
Always behind someone bigger
Invisible in their shadow
And invisible is beautiful
Only you can see you
And you see you beautiful
but you never show anyone what you see
in case they say No

Updrafting
Not so much walking in their shadows
as riding their momentum
Never knowing where you're going
Just glad to be there

To various early 1970s outdoor Wonderlands
The lowlands
The evergreens
The black road
The pricker thicket
The Eversole's carriage house
The deep forest floor

(They don't write Wonderlands like that anymore)

And one by one, we left.

I remember the first time I was out front
leading the lesser-initiated through the woods
one a city slicker, one a desert dweller

I could feel presence behind me
I could feel it like a magnetic field
not as seeing before me, sight unobstructed
but feeling people behind me
Where they could see me
Could they see what I felt
Inexperienced at being exposed
Exposure felt...
slightly electric
And powered me to claim my proper place

It took years and years. I didn't even notice the actual day

After years of being invisible
I finally felt invincible

Input (Not) Required

I finally have a follower after 3-1/2 years blogging, but that's what I get for being so last decade and for not ever publicly announcing that I have a blog. Hi, my follower! (You know who you are!) I am still following your blog, but I had to change my setting to anonymous because I tend to be private with my thoughts, which is why I blog on a public site. Makes sense, huh?

I just felt like writing tonight for no particular reason other than my friend has been doing just that. Opening up. Brushing out the cobwebs. Seeing what's inside. Like me, she left Facebook when interactions with and observations of others began to drain her more than inspire her. A blog gave me more anonymity and therefore let me feel more vulnerable and perhaps more honest. Doing it publicly (anonymously since I don't tell anyone this blog exists), reminds me to write with purpose and not be self-indulgent or throw pity parties when I'm feeling down, or at least to use metaphors and creativity when I am so that the wallowing serves some purpose.

I like feeling vulnerable. Hold it. Check yourself. I like feeling vulnerable when I know I can be safe. Sounds like "someone" around here needs to check the definition of "vulnerable!" Yes, I am full of contradictions tonight. But wouldn't we all like a place where we can just be ourselves outside the comfort of our own living room. (The tragic revelation here, of course, is that we can be ourselves anywhere we go. We just choose not to do so, maybe for a good reason, or maybe because we simply do not feel safe being that vulnerable in the presence of others.)

I've kind of neglected my blog the past few months. I actually do think it's useful for a writer to keep a journal, no matter if the entries are thoughtful explorations, desperate outpourings, or simply a recounting of how a day was spent. Well, actual famous published writers probably do not have time for this indulgence, but people who just love the feel and sound of keys clicking beneath our finger tips believe such an indulgence is a pleasant and at times helpful diversion.

Click, click, clickity clack! I love it! 

Sometimes I don't write because I think no one will be interested, but then that is part of vulnerability--taking a risk. That really is a low-level risk, isn't it? "So and so wrote a blog about her day that wasn't very interesting!" The truth of it is that we just can't always register high on people's priority lists.

But can we feel secure knowing that sometimes we won't? For someone who has spent a lot of time giving her self-esteem a major overhaul, this may sound like yet another contradiction, but I think I am on to something here. Isn't a relief to not worry that you might not always be the most important thing to others? I mean, at least you wouldn't have to get over shock of realizing that. 

As I write this, I am actually working. It's the middle of the night, and I'm on a conference call with India. It's a Friday night/Saturday morning. We started at 11:15 Friday night, and it's now 1:15 Saturday morning. I have spoken maybe 30 words. I have nothing to offer in this meeting, yet I am required to be here.  Sometimes my input really matters. Sometimes it doesn't. I've learned to not let that be a personal indictment.

But as it pertains to my life, my input is required! Here is one of the places I can specifically track my input. Over the last several months, I've ignored this blog, which is supposed to be a log of my input, on a fairly regular basis because I felt I didn't have anything very interesting to say. So what if it's not interesting to other people that I spent a Friday night perfecting a Cuban sandwich or that I experienced incredible weather swings of winter clouds, spring storms, and summer sunshine inside an hour on Sunday while out riding my bike! I want to remember my input and to keep it in check. I want to see what's inside here even when I feel empty. I almost always learn that I am not empty at all, only muddled. Output requires my input! Let's clean up this messy brain! Let's work those metaphor muscles! Sweat!

Leap Year! Extra Day!

I woke up thinking that I should make this day special, even though it's a Monday following a really fun weekend, and I have to commute and work all day.

I thought about coming to the end of my life, and someone handing me a brand new day at this point in time, when I'm young and healthy and almost always in a good mood.

If I didn't have to work, how would I spend such a day? I'd spend it camping somewhere in the deep forest, maybe in Maine, surrounded by hills and valleys and sounds and smells. I'd get up early, get that strong coffee going on my little stove, eat some doughnuts (why not?), braid my hair, get dressed, and grab my camera and pack and hit some trails with Larry. We'd picnic somewhere sunny, eating all kinds of good and bad-for-you foods. We'd come back late afternoon, and we'd change into swim gear and take a dive in the lake or a waterfall. Then we'd get cleaned up and drive into town to eat at a burger joint or lobster pound. Sometime between eating and driving, we'd catch a sunset! Then we'd come back to the camp and have a fire and s'mores. Then we'd take a walk to a clearing, lay down a blanket and do some stargazing. Then we'd go to bed and read til we fell fast asleep.

But like I said, this is Monday, in February, in Indiana, and I have to work.

Well, then, I will keep my thoughts pleasant and positive. I'll do my work and leave some time for daydreaming. I daydreamed about our next vacation. I think it's going to be Glacier 2.0. I felt worn out after our Glacier trip fell through last year, and I've been thinking I just want to sit on a beach and have someone bring me food and drink. But. I know better than that. I know that we need to get back out to Wild, U.S.A. I looked up a few places, and I think this time we will not plan on camping. We'll rent houses or cabins. It will be a lot more expensive, but it will allow us to go in September, when the crowds will significantly thin. 

Tonight, I'll get home and take a long walk. Then I'll make a nice dinner--I'm thinking falafel and couscous sounds good. Then I'll work out. Then I'll read in bed. 

I am jumping for joy over this leap year!