our home for a year

I know that things generally take longer than you think they will… especially when it’s a large construction-type project. I know this. I knew it a month ago. I just wish, sometimes, that progress might surprise me once in awhile. That your big project acutally ends up taking half the time instead of twice as much. Is that too much to ask?

It’s not that we haven’t made progress on our van… we have. They’re just not actually visible yet. And sometimes it feels as though we haven’t moved forward at all, and I get discouraged.

August 2nd or 3rd is when we’re targeting to leave. We have a family reunion starting the 4th and want to launch the trip then. That’s in, ahem, two weeks. (Pardon me while I go scream for a little bit.)

Two weeks isn’t a very long time. Plan A? Finish in time and head north. Plan B? Return to finish the van after the reunion and give ourselves a few more weeks to complete it.

While the progress isn’t visible, we actually are making. Here’s what we’ve done:

  • Purchased the van. (That was pretty big.) We’ve also stripped the shelving it came with and cleaned it out. We’ve added new tires, an alignment and got an oil change.
  • We discussed getting doors in the back with windows and researched our options (eventually deciding against it for a variety of reasons).
  • We sat down and planned the layout for the inside. Where are the bikes going? Where are we sleeping? Where will the shelving go? How the heck are we going to fit everything in?
  • We went to storage and got everything we thought we’d need, piled it up for a visual picture of what goes in, and pulled our hair out. Yikes.
  • Bracken made detailed measurements of the floor and what materials we’ll need to build it. And then went and purchased it all.

current condition of the inside

We still have a LOT to do. Two weeks just might be a little ambitious. We’ll see. But it’s coming along… the construction is part of the adventure. Right?

We’re still working long days. Trying to see old friends and meeting new ones. I’m launching a business. It’s a little crazy and I’m looking forward to getting on the road and just driving with the world ahead of us.

Until then, we’re building. A van. Some strength. And a whole lot of patience.

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!

Imagine, for a moment, what it was like when you learned to ride a bike. You were a little scared, but excited at the same time. There was a future in front of you wide with possibility and adventure.

When the training wheels came off, you got on the saddle with some confidence and a little trepidation. You wobbled and fell. You got back on, yet hesitated. The realization hit that it was gonna take some time.

Eventually, you experienced “the flow” of riding on two wheels. It was exhilarating! Then you wobbled—and fell. You’d tasted it though… that freedom and energy of balancing on two wheels and what it meant.

So you got on again and again. Each time you went a little farther on your own, but something funny happened, right? As soon as you realized you were doing it alone—that no one was holding onto you (they were, in fact, well behind you cheering you on)—you wobbled and fell.

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how is this analogous to love?

There’s something that happens when our cognitive thoughts aren’t connected to our emotional ones. Sometimes (for me, it seems more often than not), our conscious thought gets in the way.

We listen to the fear. We hesitate. We start to believe the voice that tells us it’s dangerous and we might get hurt.

Horrors! Getting hurt? Send me to the bunker now so I can avoid all hurt and pain for the rest of my life! Right. We all know that doesn’t work and frankly, that it’s not at all good for us.

Conscious thinking has its place, for sure. It tells us a stove is hot. It allows us to find north. But when we allow it to overtake our lives, it can have disatrous results.

We stop living.

stepping into love
When we allow ourselves to let go and surrender, our wiser selves are suddenly given room to expand their wings and fly.

We have faith in our ability. We accept the reality that we can do it. We’ve left the training wheels far behind. We realize our freedom.

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Stepping into love is like learning to ride a bike. There’s the excitement mixed with fear. We consciously enter into new territory, with faith in knowing our wise selves are within us. And our partners are beside us.

There are times when we come out of the glow and fog of the cushy feelings of love, and we panic. We think to ourselves, “I might lose my independence” or “What if I get hurt?” or “I don’t want to repeat my mistakes from the past.”  And we wobble. And sometimes we fall. And the beautiful thing is, it’s okay.

We simply need to remember that our partners are there beside us to help brush the dirt off. That despite the wobbling and the sometimes-falling, that it’s fun.

The more comfortable we get, the more risks we’re able (and willing) to take. The faster downhills and technical inclines are suddenly a possibility. Committing to a lifetime together becomes an exciting opportunity to stretch our boundaries and experience deeper emotional connections.

IMG_8385The nature of love requires that we trust—ourselves and our partners. And once we breathe in and accept that faith, we begin to fly. The trail and journey before us opens up, wider and wider.

It’s about integrating the conscious thought with our faith in ourselves. It’s about letting go of our fears and taking the leap of faith—whether it’s a ride without training wheels, a technical and rocky downhill, or being present with the ones we love.

IMG_8532Maybe it’s that spring is in the air—this annual season of renewal and growth. The pungent fragrance of roses and lilacs, mingling with fresh pine, linger in the wind. 

 

The past couple of weeks I’ve sensed a growing need to purge: possessions to make room for a new home, a new life shared with a partner along with hibernating emotions from past wounds, and some inner voices to quiet and cease listening to.

 

I wonder if this is purely the spring air, or does my upcoming marriage have anything to do with this sudden need to start anew? My guess is that it’s a little of spring and a lot of a new chapter in my life. 

 

The getting rid of possessions is the easy part, although for me, the more tedious. Garage sales where strangers haggle over your memories; craigslist meetings and coordination, donations to charities you hope will appreciate your old CDs.

 

 

And then there’s the emotional “baggage” to get rid of. (I prefer to believe I have a small carry-on.) It’s been much more difficult to uncover and face old, outdated thoughts and beliefs from my past—recent and long ago.

 

It’s a good feeling… refreshing and cathartic. The thoughts have been nagging me and holding onto a past that I’m now feeling strong enough to let go of. It won’t happen over night, but it’ll happen and I anticipate, come July 25, that I will have created space for energy to devote to a new life as a life partner.

 

I don’t mean to sound dramatic. My fiance and I have definitely started the “purge and combine” process of possessions, habits, energy, etc. that come with the commitment to share our lives and living space.

 

However, the strong motivation to clean, sell, get rid of, have come as a surprise. And the need to reflect, resolve old (and current) hurts and let go of past haunts has risen up rather suddenly and insistently.

 

The ceremony of marriage is ancient, and one I am anticipating with excitement, awe, humility, and a deep sense of commitment. There is something about the act of speaking your promises in front of those who bear witness to your vow that seems pretty amazing to me, and makes it (for lack of a better word) real.

 

It’s time to move forward. I am listening to the voice that’s been whispering its advice to admit failures, apologize to a friend, and (finally) to let go of past resentments and create space to move forward. 

 

I liken it to a snake shedding its skin. The old skin served to protect and shield, yet is old and must go; the new skin is still tender and raw. It continues to grow and generate, revealing beauty and grace.

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