New adventures

I suppose we'll see if I continue with this, or if a new blog happens.  Something will continue.  It's become all too obvious to me that I need writing as an outlet to keep my head on straight.

And finally, the last batch of pictures from the desert.  Great Sand Dunes National Park - wonderfully appropriate that I "stole" this entrance too, even though having the parks pass takes some of the fun out of it.

Kept threatening to rain. Didn't deter the mosquitos.

Would not have even thought to stop here if I used GPS to plan my trip.

The last bit of desert, stranded in the middle of this field.

A flat, swampy, mosquito-y, beautiful river.

Time for new adventures.

Return

I thought it would be easier to breathe when I got back to sea level.

This is not who I've been. I'm tired of fighting people's memories; I just need to find the reset button.

27

I think this must have to be the last one from here.  We'll see what happens with packing.

Red Mesa was wonderful. I got a huge boost to my evaluation skills in clinic, and I got a new companion.  This weekend, we went to Ship Rock.  After 3 months here, it was time for me to meet Tsé Bit'a'í, the rock with wings.

Jordan's Jeep Tours - now with just 2 seats!

The Wranger (Topanga) was very happy here.

The spine of the dragon.

Jordan's car is a supermodel. 

Zack, dwarfed.

This rock is disorienting in its sheer size.

Jordan' got another pelvis to add to her collection.

Our trusty steeds, holding down the fort while Topanga does the heavy lifting.

Ahéhee'

I'm done here.  I can feel it in my soul.  My journey in the desert was finished as I sat on top of the world, at the North Rim of the Grand Canyon. I felt it slip away.

It really is the Grand-est.

A week in Red Mesa, a few days back in Shiprock, and I'll be headed back to my real home, with my real friends, with my real life.

How long can you live a life before it is your real one?  Is it ever not?

I can only hope that some, or let's be optimistic, most of the lessons I've learned out here stick.  Clinically, spiritually, dietary.

I will miss the loneliness.

So this is my last real post from the rez, not counting potential quick posts on my final adventures here.  There's nothing else to say, I feel like I've said so much, and yet haven't even begun to speak.  People have asked me if I'm happy with my time here, if I feel like I used it wisely.

If sweat is wisdom, I have become the Oracle. 

I have to say yes.  Could I change things?  Could I use hindsight to optimize further.  Certainly, yes.  But all I have to do is look how far I've come to realize that what I've accomplished is good enough.

I've already spoken about my love of hikes with tunnels.

A sidenote: That thought - "what I've accomplished is good enough," - with the self-awareness that you must always be working to move forward, and that good enough for now means there's more work to do ahead.  That thought, I believe, may be the difference between despair and the joy I feel every day.

Seeing the herd for the buffalo, as it were.

I fail, constantly.  Not in big ways, though every failure should mean something.  I fail a technique in clinic, I fail a sentence in a conversation with a friend, I fail to open a lock on the first try.  And if all these things happen, it is OK.  I am improving, I am refining, I am growing.

Some segue into a thing about layers. Like an onion, or a parfait.

I had a plan for this post. An outline, or the bones of an outline.  It pretty well fell apart, as soon as I started typing.  Most of what I write is closer to stream-of-consciousness than any sort of coherent thought process; I just edit it in my head for grammar first.

Sunset.

This happens every day. Mundane.

I'm excited to go home, but scared to leave.  As usual.  In my head I'm still a chubby nerd who struggles to make friends, though logically I haven't had trouble making friends for a decade and a half.  I'm better at it now.  The friends I make now are of a higher caliber.

And sassier, to boot.

And it's not like I will be lacking friends when I return.  I just like the ones I've got here.  I know some will drop by the wayside, relegated to the status of "keeping in touch and hoping to visit someday."

That hurts.

Mundane.

Seeing a bird soar blissfully through a canyon is reason enough to visit. 

An odd situation, being forced into a friendship with someone you've been aware of for years but never spoken to.

Can you clarify? What are you even talking about?

What I mean is that I like most of my friends.  Well, all my friends, but mostly I keep friends around because I just like them.  Sometimes, someone comes along who is good for me.  I've grown to enjoy being pushed, being given the freedom to turn it up to 11.

If I see this view 100 more times, I'll still die a little sad that I didn't get to see it once more.

I know what's waiting for me back home.  Good friends, who've seen me lazy, who've seen me weak, who've seen me as less.  It's freeing to be around people who only know me as I am now, or as I'm pretending to be.

Fake it till you make it.

I don't want to give it up.  I won't.  I like how I feel, I like fanning the flames and seeing just how much I am capable of.

It doesn't just look like that all the time. Someone has to throw a handful of sand.

This does look like that all the time.  Except at night.  It's less interesting then.

Have I changed, since I've been here?

Have I made what's outside fit what's inside?

Yes.  Change is constant.  I've changed.  I'm tanner, now, and leaner.  More trusting of strangers.  More patient with plans changing.  I push harder, physically and mentally.

I make Krista swoon, and Jordan...scoff?

I don't even know what this picture is about, but I like it.

I speak more Navajo, though only a bit.  I'm better at speaking with humans, which is more important.

Do you remember Molly and Wendy?  Another life.  Nested dreams.

I'm more competitive.  Or less.  Actually, scratch that.  I have no idea.

What a wonderful place. 

And would be so easy to walk right over without ever seeing.

Our guide made us a tiny canyon.

I'm less scared of heights.

I'm more excited about failing, more willing to take risks, more forgiving of mistakes in myself and others.

I said more tan already, right?

This weekend was a monster.  Physically and mentally exhausting.  The exhaustion sealed my done-ness.  I liked it.  Push until there's no more pushing to be done, and you have a fair approximation of your measure.

I was pretty confident in my kayaking skills.

Perhaps I should have been less so.

We drank the lake water. It was tasty, and nobody got sick.

I like to know where I stand. It helps me decide where I need to go.

Though, to be fair, the goal is always the same.

Keep moving.  Keep moving.  Keep moving.

You have to accept what you have.

I stashed water on my run today. Maybe that makes me a Runner. I'll try again tomorrow. Maybe it will make sense then.

Happy days behind, happy days ahead.

Native Vision, and the first of the repeats

This weekend was Native Vision, an annual camp for native kids to learn about public speaking, and dealing with bullies, and the value of hard work, and nutrition, and exercise, and all the good breaking-the-cycle stuff disadvantaged children should learn.

Watching this Jamaican woman lecture a bunch of Navajo kids about coming to America for opportunity was awesome.

It was held at the local high school, which was, you know, a high school.

Complete with high-quality vandalism.

I was there in a "first aid" capacity, which I mostly thought would involve bandaids and ice packs.  And it did, mostly.

Some of these kids lacked the motor control to jump, which is baffling.

I also did some ankle manips, wrapped a few more ankles, carried a little girl to the nurse for fear she had a broken ankle... I guess I mostly just messed with ankles.

I'm not normally a backwards-cap guy, but the sun was behind me all day...

Overall, it was an excellent event. I think some of the kids came out better for it, which is about all you could ask. I'm sure I'll be too busy or too far away to come back and help out in the future, but maybe I can swing something.  It's supposedly in Oklahoma next year.

After Native vision, we drove to Durango, CO where there was a macaroni and cheese festival. It was incredible, and there are no pictures due to rain, and knowledge that a festival involving unlimited macaroni and cheese and beer is not suitable for photography.  One way or another, everyone will be looking their worst.

A quick nap/faceplant in what is undoubtedly the shittiest hotel in all of Durango, the Days End:

Seriously, avoid this place. The night desk guy is a real dick when you ask him where the hot tub is at 10PM.

We make my first repeat of this trip, back to Mesa Verde, to hit a good hike on the way back to Shiprock.

Oh look, clouds. I wonder if it will rain?

I wish I could own a mesa. Is that a thing?

Jordan can be silly.

Jordan can be happy.

Krista can be introspective.

Krista can be giggly.

Ari...

Ari only has one mood.

We all thought he was about to do a headstand on a 100' sheer cliff.

Re: rain?  Yes.

This view makes me want to hang glide.

This view makes me wonder what I've done to deserve all this.

To deserve these people.

From the ashes of a ruined tree: flowers.

I'm glad my outfit matches the flowers I stopped to smell.

Highly recommend the Prater Ridge Trail.

Highly recommend mountains.

Highly recommend outside.

I collect interesting people.  I've always thought so.  I don't know how I manage it, I don't know what force brings them to me, but it seems I am always surrounded by the exceptional, the outstanding.  My time here is quickly drawing to a close.  A few more adventures, a few more challenges, and then I'll return home, to the things I know, and to even more experiences I can't possibly predict.  But while I've been here, I've somehow managed to pick up new friends. I am flying through these three months on the wings of Keeping Really Busy and the novelty of getting to know new people.

Simple caution makes me wonder if optimism is somehow cheating, if I'm setting myself up to fail.  But I think not, based on current evidence.  Because life keeps rewarding me for giving more and more of myself to expecting the best.