“How do I get home,” I asked the agent an hour and fifteen minutes into the call. I was close to tears. She’d been very helpful working with me and another airline to confirm a rebooking for us. It was 3:00am and we were still in Lihue. Our flight had been scheduled to leave at 8:40pm.

I was at my lowest point. On hold for over an hour, only to find out she couldn’t help. I tried to be understanding—I knew the situation. But I just wanted to know where to go when we arrived at LAX.

“How do I get home?” It’s a funny question to have asked. I was moving from Kaua’i back to the mainland with no home to go to. Was I asking her how I get to my final destination (SLC where we planned to stay with my father-in-law for a week or two)?

Or was I asking, in a moment of fragility, a bigger question? What is home? Where can I find that feeling of grounding? Before moving to Kaua’i, I wrote a post about feeling at home whereever you are. It was a post based more on optimism and hope than a reality I knew. It’s a really wonderful sentiment, and I’m still moving toward that reality, but it’s not so easy to come by. As a woman who grew up in the same home for 18 years, it’s an unsettling feeling to move without knowing exactly where you’ll land.

It’s a feeling of limbo. The space between here and there. Shifting habits and routines to fit a new environment; searching for a comfortable and inviting space to work. And the constantly-asked question that others ask as an ice-breaker, “where are you living?” Um… the United States? In a van (that hasn’t been purchased yet)? It’s an awkward question to answer these days.

And that’s what I feel like: Things that felt normal not so long ago seem so very unnatural. Questions I had ready answers to, now make me think twice. Routines I took for granted have disappeared. The next adventure hasn’t begun. I’m floating between what was and what will be. This space between where I’m creating and grieving all at once.

Something good and amazing and wonderful is in the works. It’s exciting and terrifying. The unknown. How will I handle it? With grace? With tact? With confidence? I hope.

We’ll head to Boulder soon—our “homebase,” as I call it. We have things there in storage. We have favorite coffee shops and good friends. We know the trails and how long it takes to get from point A to point B. It’s the best home I know right now, but I’m not sure what it’ll feel like when we get there. Will it still feel like home? Or will it serve as a magnification that I am homeless?

How do I get home? I’m not sure, and I think that’s the lesson. Or at least part of the adventure. We’ve signed on for this. The unconventional and unusual. We’ll figure it out. Home is whereever we are.

hihimanu summit trail

I recently wrote a two-part series on my experience preparing for, and hiking hihimanu (shown above) over at my blog for Expand Outdoors. They’re both pretty long, but I tried to capture more than just a report on the trail and the elevation and facts of the hike.

I talk about taking risks and how it’s different between the genders. I talk about why this particular hike was challenging for me and what my mental processes were as I prepared myself for going on the hike, and what helped me during the actual hike.

I know a lot of my readers here enjoy my race reports and hearing about my experiences here on Kaua’i, so wanted to let you know about the recent posts (if you hadn’t already) and invite you to go over there and check them out (read part one; read part two).

adjusting
I’m still adjusting to having two blogs these days, so appreciate your patience during this new exploration. Here are links to a few more of my posts over there that you might find interesting:

stripping down in the outdoors

beauty of the stars

finding your tribe

seeing through new eyes

kaua'i sunset

As our time here on Kaua’i winds down, we’re busy enjoying the sun, spending time with friends and eating as many mangos and fresh avocados and ahi as we can. Seriously. I’m going to miss the food.

But! At the same time, our next adventure is on the horizon and it’s really, really exciting. You’ll be hearing lots more about it as we get closer to it (and of course, while we’re on it), but for now, here’s a sneak peek.

One year. A van. Two bikes, climbing gear and running shoes. A couple of computers, add me and Bracken and voila! Adventure.

We arrive back on the mainland (in UT) at the end of May. There, we’ll look for a van that will fit us, our stuff and our budget, kit it out and then drive it to Boulder. (Or, we’ll figure a way to Boulder and find a van there… thus begins the year of living in the moment.)

We’ll hang out in Boulder seeing friends, catching up, attending Ignite Boulder 11 (yay!) and working (probably a lot). We’ll then set out early August for a family reunion in Idaho and from there… onward.

We’ll be working some, climbing a lot, biking a good chunk and running many miles over this next year. We’ve been talking about this for a few years now (well before we got engaged) and it’s finally happening. I’m still trying to wrap my head around it… I’m excited and petrified all at once. I’m learning the art of transition quickly.

Here’s to adventure! Hope to see you on the road, at the crag and on the trail.

Aloha!

november 2009: my new board

In an effort to live more simply, I try to purchase only what I need or what I love, and to purge when necessary. The time has come to begin purging our major Hawaii purchases in preparation for our return to the mainland. As pragmatic as I tend to be, the process of selling and getting rid of things is never easy for me.

Especially when I am selling something that helps me connect with memories and experiences. I purchased my surfboard at the monthly surf swap, held the first Saturday of every month in Hanalei. It’s a 7’9″ Blair hybrid (between a long board and a short board). It’s been the perfect board for me this winter. Easy to paddle, maneuverable on the wave, pretty and mine.

I just posted it on craigslist this morning and find myself in a particularly melancholy mood. I’ve experienced many ups and downs in my surf education this winter. Lots of frustration and discouragement mixed with amazing moments of joy and exhilaration. I have re-connected to the power of the ocean. I have experienced humility and growth.

dawn patrol: hanalei bay

My board is a tangible representation of my journey and I am sad to see it go. One more lesson in the impermanence of “things.” I wish I had more pictures of me actually surfing, but getting the stars to align for the wave, me riding, and having someone on the beach with a camera at the ready is actually pretty difficult. But I have a million memories stored within me to hold close.

I’ve carried it from the apartment to the car and back; up and down the beach looking for the best place to go out. I’ve stripped the old wax with a cancelled credit card (better than a store-bought scraper) and took pleasure in applying a new base coat and layer of regular wax.

surfing

I’ve surfed on small and big (for me) days; glassy and clean days, and choppy and really soupy days. I’ve surfed in the sun, the rain and the wind (often in the same session). I’ve surfed at sunrise and sunset.

I’ve been in the line up with professional surfers and I’ve been out completely alone. I’ve seen sea turtles close up and double rainbows over the bay. The water has been murky gray and a clear, brilliant blue.

I’ve dodged crowds of keiki’s and tourists learning, as well as the more experienced surfers and paddle boarders. I’ve gotten annoyed at the lack of etiquette from surfers, and met incredibly encouraging ones. I’ve been cut on the foot, hit in the head and bruised from this sport. I’ve been tossed around in the whitewater more times than I can count.

I’ve experienced tears of frustration and huge grins of exhilaration.

I think my absolute favorite experience is when it’s a calm, early morning session with friendly waves and a light drizzle of rain. There aren’t many people out and a rainbow appears across the bay. Pure magic.

heading home

I’ve learned how to surf here on Kaua’i, and for that I am incredibly grateful. The learning curve is long and requires an immense amount of patience and perseverance. And it’s oh-so-rewarding.

Outrigger canoe surfing. Who knew it could be so much fun? About a month ago I was out surfing by the Hanalei Pier and saw a group surf a few waves there in this canoe (or wa’a). I was immediately smitten.

A few weeks later I saw a guy on the beach by the canoe (and a lot of beginner surfboards) advertising for free lessons and canoe rides.

I was intrigued.

I approached him about the details. (Essentially, he operates on gratuity and takes up to three people out for about an hour.) Sweet.

Yesterday afternoon, Bracken and I headed to the beach for a walk. It was a beautiful Hawaiian afternoon: blue sky, light winds, clean surf. As we neared the water I spotted the canoe. A smile erupted. Perfect.

Our guide (Ethan) was ready to go. “Just give me ten minutes to get it ready for the water.” He gave us a brief rundown on paddle usage and getting in and out of the canoe. Neither Bracken nor I had ever been in one before. (Between the two of us, we have pretty minimal experience with any kind of paddling sport.)

We headed out into the surf, me in the front, Bracken directly behind me, and our guide steering from the back. We immediately felt the water splash over us as we barreled head-first into the breaking waves. It felt good.

We paddled toward the Bowl—a popular reef break with overhead+ waves. We’d been out to the Bowl surfing this winter. It’s serious business when the waves are good. Ethan instructed me (sitting in front) to lean over as far into the wave as I could once we caught the wave, encouraging me to sit up on the side and really put my weight into it.

He steered us into the lineup. And then “GO! Paddle!” And we dug deep and fast, matching the speed of our canoe with the oncoming wave. “WE GOT IT!” And we did. I hopped up onto the edge of the canoe, leaned all my weight into the wave and felt pure joy. It was divine. Exhilarating.

We spent the rest of the hour at the bowl, paddling for, catching, and riding the waves. Then turning around and doing it all over again. We pulled out of a few (didn’t get the right amount of speed going—we all have to paddle exactly together, or the wave didn’t break as we [okay, Ethan... we were really mostly along for the ride] thought it would), but overall, caught quite a few.

At one point, a big outside set came through and we had to paddle hard to get over the crest. I flew out of my seat about 2 feet and landed hard. I don’t think my smile left. I’ll have a pretty serious bruise for sure, but I’d do it all over again tomorrow. And the next day, too.

Heading into shore, we relaxed a bit and paddled along the shoreline. Ethan shared some local history of the bay (how they used the pier to bring cattle onto the island) and history of hawaiian canoe surfing. It’s the oldest sport on the islands and for that reason, is grandfathered and exempt from many laws. No permitting requirements, no safety requirements, no life jackets and can land anywhere on shore (whereas boats cannot). It’s an ancient sport with amazing history and tradition.

And a total blast. I wanna go again!

kilauea falls

This week marks the 6-1/2 month mark here on Kaua’i. Our original plan was six months. We’re here for one more. As I’m learning, Kaua’i pulls you and many people end up staying longer. Sometimes for a month. Sometimes for a lifetime.

There are days it feels like we just got here. There are days that feel like we’ve been here for years. In some ways, I feel like I’m finally ready to be here. Like I just got acclimated and am now prepared to live for six months on a small island. Bracken and I have both joked that now that we have basic surfing skills, we’re finally ready to really learn how to surf.

I came here with a lot of goals in mind. Some I met (I will be a certified life coach next month and I can catch a wave and stand up on a board). And some I didn’t (I burned out on yoga after two months and didn’t really get the whole “slowing down” aspect of living). Yet what I’ve learned here, and experienced here, has become a pretty important part of me.

kaua’i
It’s hard to explain to those who haven’t been here (or lived here for a period of time), but I hear so often that this island tests you. She presents challenges in ways you don’t expect and magnifies them exponentially.

a taste of hawaiian trails

I struggled with the realities of paradise. I imagined (as it seems many do) that life here is easy and amazing. But it’s not always easy. I’m not on vacation.

I came to finally accept the fact that I can have a bad day and that it’s actually normal to do so. Just because the view is amazing and the beach is a five-minute drive away and the weather is temperate (albeit rainy)—it doesn’t mean that every day is about mai tais on the beach and 24-hour sunshine.

Cars break down. Neighbors fight. Good eggs are $7.00 a dozen. Cigarette smoke can filter in through the windows. Refrigerators die. Sometimes two or three times in one month. It can rain 18″ in one day. Or for six weeks at a time. You can still get injured. And you can still miss your family and friends on the mainland.

expectations
As our time here winds down, I find myself letting go of my expectations. I’ve stopped fighting island life and find new comfort in her embrace. The rhythms of the days are settling in. Maybe it’s because there’s a set date of departure that has created the sense of renewed appreciation.

the blue room

I believe in creating awareness around me and the world I live in. And maybe I’m simply more aware of the gifts I have at hand. I have to admit that part of me wants to believe that, on some level, I’ve passed her tests. That Kaua’i has accepted me as worthy of her love. That I’ve paid my dues and have this last month to fully immerse myself in the experience.

I’ve left all expectations. I’ve accepted that it simply is what it is: and that’s an incredibly beautiful and powerful place to be.

hanalei bay pier

magic

The magic of this island is in surrender and acceptance. As I begin to turn my mind towards our next adventure, I plan on taking my lessons and the experience forward.

Kaua’s greatest gift to me was her support throughout my certification process. I arrived here stripped of my old self—old beliefs, identity and labels—open and vulnerable to whatever showed up. I struggled a lot through the process. I cried a lot. I grieved for the past and I embraced the new. I became stronger and more sure of who I am and who I continue to grow into.

Through all the challenges, I have become more of the best in me and let go of what was dragging me down. Kaua’i has provided a solid foundation, at this particular time of my life. Her nourishing energy is solid within me.

watching the sunset on ke'e beach

Sometimes I wish I could step off of the merry-go-round that life can be and take a breath. Take stock of changes going on and take time to think about what direction the next step will go. Alas, life doesn’t work that way. It continues to carry on, the sun rising and setting, people going about their business.

Most days I enjoy the journey, getting excited about what’s happening around me and within me. Other days, it’s a little bit harder.

My life seems to be changing and evolving so quickly these days. I wanted to take a moment and share the latest.

expand outdoors
The biggest things that’s been going on is I’m in the middle of building a new business for my life coaching practice. Many of you know I’ve been taking classes since arriving in Hawaii and expect to graduate with a certification in June.

It’s been a lot of work. Classes are international, and are conducted via phone, so we’ll have students from Shanghai, Arizona, Sydney, New Jersey, Paris, New Dehli and Texas on a call together. We’re required to take over 130 hours of classes, so I’ve been on the phone a lot!

One of the requirements of graduation is to coach five people for three months (or 12 sessions each). I’ve loved this part. Truly loved it. Which tells me I’ve chosen the right career path, as this will be the main component of my practice. I coach via phone (or skype for International clients), which allows me (and them) to be anywhere in the world. Great flexibility as Bracken and I plan to do a lot of traveling over the next year.

Speaking of Bracken, along with his regular work load, he designed my logo, my website and then built my website over the past few weeks. It’s still a work-in-progress, but it’s live and I love it.

You can check out the website here: www.expandoutdoors.com.

There’s also a blog I’m starting for Expand Outdoors. You can sign up via RSS, or submit your email address through the site and receive updates via email. It’s a pretty sweet feature. Topics will center around fitness, the outdoors, coaching, personal development and the like, yet hopefully will stay personal and engaging. Let me know what you think.

This blog (ameliacarolyn) will likely evolve a bit as I figure out how to write for two and what each will be focused on (as I’ve got a lot of posts about the outdoors here). I’m hoping to experiment and have a little fun with this one, so stay tuned and let me know how you like it.

waiting for the tsunami that wasn't

life in hawaii

Hawaii is still really good. It’s not home, but it’s good. I miss a lot of things about Colorado. I want to make the most of my time here and really enjoy it… but I find myself missing my friends and the trails and the air more and more. The time here, however, has been perfect at this particular time in my life. It is providing a new space to begin to explore my career and build my practice without the distractions of “how-I-used-to-do-things.”

I strayed a bit (okay, a lot) on my yoga commitment. It became too much for me and I wasn’t enjoying it six days a week. So I relaxed (to not doing any) for a few months and am now getting back into it in a more realistic fashion. A few times a week (1-3), along with running and of course, surfing.

I will miss the ocean tons when we return to the mainland.

And that’s it for now. Just a quick stop on the merry-go-round and now off we go. :)

dawn patrol

final colors of sunset

Yesterday evening I sat balanced on my surfboard, watching for the next set of waves; my eyes riveted to the light of the sky as it shifted and changed with each new minute that passed.

The sun was setting behind the mountains. The clouds reflecting orange, yellow and pink. The water before me shimmered a deep orange.

I looked behind at a swell approaching. I checked my alignment to the shore. I checked right and left, making sure no one else was paddling.

My arms began pumping. My heart beat louder. The swell was closer. I smiled as my speed picked up. A moment later I was standing, my pop-up successful. My board raced down the face of the wave, whitewater exploding behind me.

My smile grew into a grin. The grin into a hearty laugh.

I am hooked. I surf.

the Na Pali coast

Awe.

I read a quote in the August 2009 issue of Oprah recently. It was a parenthetical comment. An aside. It struck me as the most important thing I’d read in the entire magazine and it made me think.

On page 96, Gabrielle LeBlanc wrote:

Awe, it seems, influences people to act on behalf of the greater good.

What a bold statement. I’ve been mulling it over in my mind for awhile, asking myself, what is it about the feeling and experience of awe that would have such an influence? And was it true? And if it’s true, what causes it?

Newport Beach sunset

It feels true. It resonates with my own experiences. I think about the times I’ve felt awe. Sometimes it strikes me while listening to music, reading a poem or particularly poetic prose, or in a photograph or illustration. But mostly I find awe—I feel awe—in nature.

In the mountains. Looking out over the wide expanse of ocean as powerful waves rock the shoreline.

Colorado mountains

Utah desert

Hawaiian surf

I feel it when I run under a canopy of rhododendron or through the white barks of aspen trees, hearing the leaves rustle in the wind.

My mind opens. Colors are brighter and smells are more distinct and pungent. I feel a greater sense of awareness—of my surroundings; of my thoughts; of the bigness of the world around me.

infinite bliss

When I am in nature, I am grounded. I feel connected in a larger-than-life way. I can’t explain it, but my heart fills. I want to drink in the scene and wrap it around me like a cozy blanket on a chilly winter evening. I breathe deep.

I feel the power of the whole and I recognize my interconnectedness with others (both in my immediate community and those across the globe, thousands of miles away).

I think this is what LeBlanc meant. This feeling we get when awe fills us up from the inside. We want to share its bigness, show others how beautiful and sublime our universe is.

Long's Peak from Mt. Audubon

My energy expands. I feel peace. I feel motivated to be better. I step out of myself and see beyond the problems or worries that seemed so huge just a moment ago.

I used to think awe was a luxury. It was something you only felt on special occasions. As an adult, I realize it’s essential.

Joshua Tree Nat'l Park, California desert

I have chosen to surround myself with the opportunity to experience a bit of awe every day. To drink in nature’s art. To experience first hand her grace and depth.

a lone orchid along the Na Pali coast, Kaua'i

It never gets old. It never gets tired or overplayed. It sinks deeper under my skin and into my being. This awe. This grace. The desire to grow and expand. The motivation to contribute to my world and those in it.

Kalihiwai Bay, Kaua'i

I breathe in the view before me. My heart opens and I smile.

my annual rite of passage
I have begun the annual ritual of assessing the past year and looking toward the upcoming one in anticipation of what’s ahead. I always enjoy rereading what my annual goals were for the previous year (you can read my goals for this blog here, and my overall 2009 goals here). By the end of 2008, I knew that 2009 would be a big year.

Along with a few specific goals I set for myself (like flossing my teeth and eating my vegetables… both of which, I’m happy to report, saw an increase in activity throughout 2009), each December I think about a word or two that encompasses what the year ahead means to me.

2008 was a year of risk and wonder. 2009 was a year of creating possibility and abundance. As I write this post, my 2010 words are rising to the surface.

my writing goals for amelia carolyn
I realized when reading about the goals I’d set for my blog, I didn’t take my own advice. I didn’t revisit my goals and take time to reassess and revise them. And this December, I’m in a similar place with my writing and blogging goals as I was last December. I have made small steps, but none big enough to allow me to say, “I’ve met my goal.”

I haven’t achieved the frequency or discipline in my writing or posting that I’d set out for myself. And I know that had I read my goals again throughout the year, I would have made some changes. I might have made them a little more realistic considering the life changes I embarked on in 2009. I may have laid out smaller steps.

Writing is a huge part of my life and my dreams. I love the process and clarity I get when I write. And there have been small advances towards my stated goals to blog more and to write with more discipline (and less of writing only “as the mood strikes”). But I have work to do.

Luckily, I don’t believe 2009 was the only pocket of time where that particular goal could thrive. 2009 was a busy year. Lots of pretty big life changes happened in 2009 that took time and energy. In 2010, my writing will become more defined and frequent. I will have more purpose and more substance to my thoughts and posts.

So what took up so much of my energy and focus in 2009, you ask?

what a year!
Here’s a recap of my 2009 experiences:

I got married. July 25 was a fairy-tale day. The weekend filled with family and friends from all over the country was a magical weekend. The 11 months of planning that went into that weekend was exciting, challenging and filled with emotion.

crested butte, co

I ran. A lot. My running season was unexpectedly amazing and awesome. I entered and completed two ultra marathons. The Moab Red Hot 50+K and the Collegiate Peaks 50 miler. I also ran my best Pike’s Peak Marathon three weeks after the wedding and enjoyed a few other fun and challenging trail runs (the Golden Gate Dirty Thirty in June, the Gothic Crested Butte Third Marathon and the Barr Trail Mountain Race in July).

moab red hot 50k+

collegiate peaks 50 mile trail run

pike's peak marathon

I moved to a new state, into a new home, with my new husband. In September I sold my car and began packing. At the beginning of October, we moved all our furniture and most of our possessions into storage. Then Bracken and I moved to the island of Kaua’i, in Hawaii. We have been housed by the generosity of amazing friends and are still adjusting to the experience of reality in paradise.

polihale state park, kaua'i

sea turtle in poipu, kaua'i

sunset at hanalei bay, kaua'i

I embarked on a journey toward a new career and subsequent new business. In September, I became a student at the International Coach Academy, based in Melbourne, Australia. I will graduate in 2010 with a Professional Coaching Certification. I will be a life coach working in the outdoor and fitness industry helping others integrate fitness and sport into their lives. I plan on concentrating on “late-bloomers” like me who are new to sports and fitness and need education and motivation on how to get started and what to expect throughout the journey. (Stay tuned for more information coming in 2010.)

I played. I summited two 14ers (Antero for my annual birthday climb) and Pike’s Peak. I climbed. I bouldered. I ran. I bought a mountain bike and began to learn. I took up surfing. I began a yoga journey (going six times a week).

looking towards the summit of mt. antero

my new mountain bike on the 401 in crested butte

my new surfboard

I began to explore the kitchen. I enjoyed a few cooking lessons. I shopped at the Farmer’s Market. I observed and participated in the cooking process. I plan to write more on this, but for me, enjoying nutrition and preparing meals is a foreign, enticing concept.

an abundance of possibility
Has 2009 truly been a year of possibility and abundance? Definitely. I didn’t make a lot of money as I’d hoped, but I began to build a solid foundation for a new career. The abundance came in the form of love. Of community. Of grace and compassion (from others, mind you… I’m still working on that ‘have compassion for yourself’ mantra). An abundance of experiences, of emotion, of newness.

Possibility seems harder to pin down. Yet it feels like the possibilities presented to me, and the experiences I’ve had this past year, have themselves, been abundant: surprising myself at the Pike’s Peak marathon and placing in my age group; moving to a small island in the middle of the Pacific, miles from anything familiar; exploring a new career and life calling; writing on a variety of topics and experiences.

Life feels wide open in front of me. And maybe that’s what possibility looks like. Vast and open and free.

a year of promise
2010 promises to be a full year. The words that come to mind when I think of all that’s on the horizon for me are words like: grounding. integration. expansion. maybe this is the year for compassion? emergence. discovery. motion.

What’s in store for me? What do I have planned? Lots of goodness and awesome. As much as 2009 was a year of new things and beginnings, it was also a year of building foundations. It was a year where I consciously and deliberately worked to set up a foundation that will support big things to come. Those things may appear in 2010, or 2046. I just don’t know, but I’m building and I’m creating and I’m nurturing my world for my present and my future.

In 2010 my marriage will still be new. We will be exploring the newness and integrating each other deeper into our lives, becoming stronger partners in this life together. We’ll spend time building the framework for our future; our communication; our finances; our habits and preferences. We’ll be sharing our love through the ordinary and mundane, as well as the awesome and magnificent. Or maybe it’s more like we’ll learn to recognize the magnificence hidden in the ordinary. Solidifying our union to stay strong and sure through the many changes and journeys that are ahead of us as individuals and together.

In 2010 my company will launch. And with that, I dream of introducing others (and creating within them) a life-long love affair with the outdoors. I plan on learning a lot more. I plan on putting myself out there and introducing myself to others so they know who I am, and what my mission and goals are (and hopefully by that, I can reach even more people).

In 2010 we plan to return to the mainland, with a good bit of surfing under our belts, to embark on a year-long road trip around the U.S. to climb, mountain bike and run through our country’s celebrated and hidden gems.

In 2010 I want to surf tougher, climb stronger, run longer and bike with enthusiasm (with a little bit of badass thrown in to the mix).

I want to write. A lot. (In my journal; for my personal blog; for my professional blog.) I want to write a book or two (maybe just a short one to begin).

I want to smile more often and connect deeper. I want to love generously, with compassion and grace. I want to walk in confidence and recognize my strengths and gifts, sharing them with the world.

So my words for 2010? Integration and joy seem to resonate with my insides.

Integrating my marriage, my home-within-myself, and my new career into my future. Consolidating my thoughts and ideas onto paper and out into the world. Merging my passion for the outdoors into a career that inspires and motivates others to fall in love with nature.

Joy for the energy and momentum I’m experiencing in my life. Happiness in the simple and humble. Exhilaration in the challenges and transitions ahead. And a childlike exuberance for the travel adventure I’ve dreamed of for many years.

I raise a toast to 2010: A year of integration and joy. Cheers!

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