A New Direction, or an Old Calling?

Hey everybody! Long time no see!

And I have news! Remember how I was having such a hard time figuring out what to do next, life-wise? Well, I've got an idea. Here's the long-short story:

About six months ago, when I got back from New Zealand, I started talking with Peggy Hanson about how St. John's needs a new youth minister. Peggy, who is one of my dear friends, a member of St. John's, and also my baptism sponsor, pushed me to check out the job because of my experience teaching summer bible school. Working with the preschool through fourth graders for that one week a year has always been one of my favorite things, and I thought this idea might bear some looking into. After doing some research, however, I found that I wouldn't really be qualified until I had at least a certification in youth ministry, and even if I found a way around that, I wouldn't personally feel like I had enough knowledge to be dealing with high schoolers, especially as they go through confirmation. So this idea went back up on the shelf.

Meanwhile, since I got back from down under, I've been trying to recapture the easy faith I felt as I traveled. Even though I showed up in the country with a plan, after my time at the shearing sheds I basically just went around hoping that the next day would bring something good, and it always did! When I felt like I couldn't take the atmosphere of the sheds anymore, I met Ann and Murray through church, and they took me home and gave me a family. When I needed someplace to stay in Wellington, I met Ann and Murray's daughter Bridget, and she and her husband showed me around. When I arrived on the shore of the South Island I looked around and hopped the Stray bus, not sure what I'd find, only to meet the most amazing group of people who ended up defining my whole trip. Some days I didn't know where I'd sleep that night, but hostels always worked out. Some days I didn't know if I could stand the loneliness of being on the road, but someone always came into my life with kind words and a hug.

And I prayed. A lot. On the bus, at night before I went to sleep, in hard places and in beautiful ones. Sometimes they were Ann Lamott-type prayers, made up of "help, help, help" or "thank you, thank you, thank you," but they always came from deep inside me, and I always felt that they were heard.

Travel has a way of making you feel like life is made up of bright colors and deep feelings, but when you get home the stability and occasional boredom of "real life" dulls everything again. The trick, for me, at least, is to live life like you're on the road all the time, no matter what physical space you inhabit.

For the last few months I've been in that post-travel phase where everything seems dull, and you can't scramble fast enough to get back the highs you felt while abroad. All of the searching and grasping at water slipping through my fingers has made me feel pretty lousy, but it's also made me throw up my hands, sit down, and listen.

And when I did that, back in late September, I felt the niggling feeling of something at the back of my neck. I started thinking again about St. John's, and the youth there, and my feelings about the church, and my faith, and about ministry. It was a lot to think about. In the first week of October I went up to the visit days at Luther, which is the ELCA seminary in St. Paul. It was a two day event, and my feelings about the whole thing went like this:
Day 1-
Morning - Oh my gosh, this is so freakin' cool! I want to take all the classes, read all the books, soak all of this in at once!
Afternoon - Ok, theoretically, this would be cool, but how would I pay for another two years of study? Money, money, money. Worry, worry.
Evening - I don't even care. This feeling is amazing. Look at these people coming together to learn and teach and love and strengthen the church!

Day 2-
Morning - Ok, back off, you're just excited about this because you're here right now. Get some perspective.
Afternoon - OH MY GOSH THE RARE BOOKS ROOM. Breathe, breathe, try not to get too excited about talking Constantine and getting to take Hebrew. This is where I'm supposed to be!
Evening - Absolute cognitive dissonance.

I wanted so much to give in to the overwhelming feeling that I was in the right place, and that seminary was the right thing, but I was paralyzed by the fear of making a wrong move. I'd spent the last four months agonizing about career paths and possibilities that I'd tangled myself up in the idea that if I made the wrong choice I could...I wasn't even sure! End up living in a box on the side of the road? I don't know. But when I went home that second night, I felt my heart pulling toward seminary and my brain frozen and full of thoughts of loan repayment and job prospects.

I gave myself a week to think it all over, and as that week progressed I got more and more excited, and more and more sure.

So the end of this story is that I'm currently almost finished with my application to Luther Seminary for their Masters in Youth and Family Ministry program, and even though I still have doubts (still mostly based in money-worry), I've given up and given in to that pull inside my chest. If they'll have me, I'll start at Luther in September.

In the meantime, I've been reading a lot, talking with a couple of friends, and discussing faith and theology, and I've been wanting some place to write that out, so I'm starting a new blog. This will still be my main page, and I'll still write here when I have a life update, or when I travel, but the new blog will be specifically for faith-related stuff. So join me over there if you feel like it!

I hope you're all having a good day, week, month, and so on. It's finally snowing here in Northfield, and I'm looking forward to Thanksgiving in five days, and then...CHRISTMAS! Or rather, Advent, starts next Sunday!
Peace!

A Getaway, A Refusal, The Present, And Happiness

Hey everyone!

Well, around the time of that last post back at the beginning of the month I decided I just needed to go somewhere to get a bit of that wanderlust out of my system. On a whim I called up my best friend Gabriel and asked him if he felt like road tripping it to Nashville with me. He said he was absolutely down, so the next step was to call my lovely step-sister Jessi and ask if we could crash on her floor for a couple of days. One week later Gabe and I were rolling down the river road, following the Mississippi, windows down and hearts full of music.

It felt great to get back on the road again, and I enjoyed every minute of our trip down there and back almost as much as I enjoyed actually experiencing Nashville. On the way down we camped in Hannibal, Missouri, which is Mark Twain's home town, and I got a chance to geek out about seeing places like Jackson's Island that I've been dreaming about since I was about seven years old. Huck Finn IS my second favorite book, after all, trumped only by Peter Pan. Gabe didn't really understand my excitement, but he played along when we found Tom Sawyer's fence, which stands next to Twain's boyhood home.

Anyway, Nashville was great, and we spend the time there hearing as much music as possible. We checked out famous guitars stores, spent WAY too much money at the record stores, heard live music at a couple of different places, ate grits and drank sweet tea, toured Andrew Jackson's plantation, and spent a little time with Jessi and her husband Chris, which I was really glad about since I wasn't able to go to their wedding (because of being halfway around the world, ya know). And I got to feel like I was getting in touch with my Southern roots, even though my family's from South Carolina. All in all, a very successful adventure.

Then, back to Northfield, where I reveled in my new vinyl collection and got back into the swing of desk work. Still not my favorite thing. But at least, I thought to myself, I have a chance at getting the Americorps job I went out for in June.

So this job (I'm not sure if I'm mentioned it before) is to help teaching and tutoring in the elementary schools in Northfield, and it included such benefits as, you know, paying, and giving experience, and putting one's loans on hold. A good deal, really. Interviews were in June, but with the government shutdown they weren't able to confirm anything until just this week, and it turns out that even though the program was promised funding for ten different positions in the school district, they were only given enough for three in the end.

And the long and short of it is that today I found out I didn't get one of those positions. This bummed me out quite a bit at first, as it was the only solid lead I've had on ANYTHING in what seems like ages. Jobs are hard to come by when you don't want to flip burgers or work at Target. But I'm choosing to look at this as just another shove along my path. Clearly this job wasn't something I was meant for, but I did my best, and now I'm moving on.

Moving on to what, I'm not sure, but I'll get there.

And in the meantime I've thrown all extra energy into getting in shape. I've been doing it in sort of a leisurely way up until two weeks before I left for Nashville when I got a pass up at the Lakeville Lifetime Fitness and got serious. I've been building and building and making progress, and at this point I'm running four miles every other day with 15 minutes of strength training, and on days when I'm not doing that I do 30 minutes of crosstraining/conditioning and run a mile and a half. I allow myself one day off per week for that day when I just have no motivation whatsoever. Other than that, I lace up and go out whether I feel like it or not.

And I can feel the changes already. Not in numbers on a scale (those things are freakin' stubborn!) but in the way I walk, in the strength and confidence I have, in my optimism, and in the way I treat myself.

So things are good, even though they're not the way I would have planned them. I read something the other day that really sums up how I'm feeling about Right Now:

"I'm clearing my heart of ghosts lately; I think I need room for something else. I don't know what it is yet, but it's going to be unfathomably beautiful. I wake up every morning and smile because I know I'll get to see it. It's going to be that beautiful."

Wanderlust/Frustration

I’ve got the itch again. I have to get out of here. Every time I leave, I see the things that I miss, and I come home, vowing to remember that all the things I need I already have. Flash forward four to six months and I’m packing my bags in a cold sweat, filling up the tank or standing in line at customs, because as long as I keep moving I’m in the current with time and I can quantify my achievements each day in miles traveled or countries crossed off my bucket list. When people ask “what have you been doing since graduation?” I can tell them I’ve lived in other places, seen things most people dream of seeing, done things most people don’t end up doing, and I feel like I can be proud of that.

But inevitably I get footsore and stumble back into my small town, grateful for the lilac smell in the spring, the days in the river in summer, the crispness of the air in fall, or the snow at Christmas. But being here means standing still. It means looking at what people have accomplished while I’ve been gone, and seeing their hard-won stability next to my head-strong resistance to monotony. My heart is equal parts lust for change and love for consistency.

I forget who said it, Emerson, possibly, or C.S. Lewis; that humans require a consistency in life in order to not be overwhelmed by the universe and go completely insane, but we also abhor boredom, and so we require change to stimulate our minds. Luckily, be it by divine providence or only by chance, we have the seasons. We know more or less what to expect depending on the month, and are comforted by that knowledge, but we also welcome spring each year with as much joy as if we hadn’t seen it before. Perfection.

And these are my seasons; leave, remember, return, ache.

Ache for a plan, a purpose, a reason to do this over that. Ache for the road, until I find these things. I leave with open eyes and hope of finding them, end up miles away wondering if I just forgot to pack them and become convinced they’re sitting on my bed at home, waiting for me. Only to return to find that they’ve left minutes before my reentry. It’s the least Zen thing about me, this always running off to catch something that feels just out of reach.

But what else can I do?

Really, Alison, what else can you do?

I could sit on my hands and ignore my wanderlust. Keep working this job, get another one to pick up the slack time and make some more money. Make enough to move permanently out of my parent’s house and into a place of my own. Hope that time will reveal this purpose I swear I must have. But the meantime is lonely; the way things are now, I spend a lot of time by myself.

I could go to graduate school, but to study what? Things that truly interest me, like classics or composition? Or something that may help me get a less boring job, like journalism or wildlife management? (The fact that those two possibilities seem leagues apart highlights my general indecision.) In the end, though, there’s no guarantee of a job, but there would certainly be more debt. And this would be my way of postponing making a decision. Only a placeholder in time.

Or I could take that road again. Without a plan, without enough money to last me any great length of time. I got good at trusting to faith and luck while I was away last time, and even though I missed a few meals I was never without a bed and some interesting new people.

All I know is that time is moving, and I’m standing in the middle of the stream feeling it wash past me, taking seconds of my life away with every ripple and splash of the current. Either I will be washed away somewhere with it, or I will charge upstream until I exhaust myself. But I can’t stand anymore.

Home Again, Home Again

Hey everyone!

So, you know what? I usually apologize for not writing, but right now I'm really enjoying the fact that the recent absence of posts has caused most people to forget that this blog exists. It gives me something close to a clean slate again.

Because this isn't going to be a news post. If you've heard anything at all from me since I got back from NZ (and I'm really sorry if you haven't; I'm going to go into a whirlwind of email replies shortly) then you know I've been back for about three months, and I've spent most of that time job hunting, getting discouraged, trying to figure out what I want to "do with my life," and deciding that I'd better use this in-between-time constructively and at least get back in shape. Oh! And I cut all my hair off 'cause it's been unbelievably hot. The weather, not my hair. See?

But anyway, like I said, this is not a news post. This is an "Alison writing about life and plans" post.

First of all, I'd like to introduce you to two new best friends that I am inspired by, but haven't actually met in real life. First, Elizabeth Gilbert, who wrote "Eat Pray Love." I'm currently reading this book, and so much of it is reminiscent of my life at the moment, forgetting, of course, that Liz is in her mid thirties and I am only twenty-three. Right now I'm connecting with her mainly because I need reminders that everyone, no matter at what age, at some point (and some people at many points) have times in their life when they think "what am I doing??" Watching, or rather reading, Liz going through these things comforts me. Her book has a "light at the end of the tunnel" feel to it, which is something I need right now.

Secondly, there's Dylan Hart, who writes lots of things, but I've been mostly in love with her blog posts recently. She's twenty-six (or twenty-seven now?) and she's currently living in Costa Rica. After college she spent a few years being in a confused in-between place like me before finally saying "screw it, I'm going traveling!" She's a published author and she has some design jobs and things she does on the road, but in general she's another person who I look to to say "don't worry, you don't need to have everything figured out." One of the things I love about her is that she writes the way we talk. And by we, I mean that she uses the colloquialisms that are inherent in my group of friends. She makes herself very understandable. And she's brilliant. Click that link and go read her post about plans.

And between reading a lot of these two lately and thinking about the the concept of "plans" and "life purpose," my brain's been a bit preoccupied. What it comes down to is this: I'm 23 years old and I feel the pressure to "make something of myself." I've had plans, like Dylan when she says

"The big picture is hard. It's vague and BIG. It always feels just out of reach, but like you've got it completely under control. 'I will be married in three years, have a best seller and an adorable little adopted baby boy.'
Probs not, Miss Hart. Probs not."

Sometimes you just have to say to yourself, "probs not, self. Probs not." But this is only with plans that are specific in outcome and vague in the description of what effort will be needed. I love plans. I like mapping things out. But it's more for reactionary purposes than anything else. I think "well, here I've made three plans. Which one do I like best? Which one makes me the most enthusiastic?" and then I try to go after the end result with a willingness to work hard and the knowledge that I have no idea what's going to happen along the way.

But my problem recently is that I don't know which plan to go after. For reference to this, see my post last March in Wellington. Today, though, it dawned on me that all of my plans are regarding getting a job, establishing a career, and "becoming an adult." Given this, it makes sense that I'm having trouble because of two things; 1) subconsciously, and sometimes consciously, I don't want to be an adult. 2) I'm confining my choices, and therefore in my head the entirety of my future (though I know that what I chose now isn't forever), to a very small space. What I'm saying to myself, theoretically, is "self, do you want to be a doctor or a lawyer?" when all my inner self most wants to do is go skydiving in Mongolia.*

Y'ALL KNOW WHAT I MEAN?

So here's the real question: Do I want to just pick a career direction and go with it just to be moving? Or do I stay here in this space, reading, thinking, asking questions, living at home with my parents and making minimal money working for my dad for a while longer?

If option 1, then I need to close my eyes, spin around in a circle and point in a direction and attack it. If option 2, then I need to make peace with the fact that living with your parents can be a trial as well as a blessing; I need to accept that doing the work I'm doing for my dad isn't fulfilling for me, but that it is temporary; I need to find a way to deal with the stress of not having health insurance and being a financial burden to my parents for a while longer; and most of all I need to find a way to deal with my own feelings of inadequacy for not getting the fuck out of the nest (excuse my language) and becoming one of those "productive members of society" my nagging inner voice is always talking about.

So there you are. Is there a third option that hasn't presented itself to me? Are these my choices? And what about skydiving in Mongolia?**

For today I'm ok with thinking and reading and praying. But what about tomorrow?


*Just for reference, I want none of those things.
**No, really. I hate heights. This is for visualization purposes only.

In Which I Give Up On Trying To Catch Up On Text Posts And Just Make A Video

And I'm sorry that this video begins with a Mr. Rogers moment. I was just having too much fun with the guitar to be bothered to put it down.

I'm also sorry that your volume is going to have to be full blast to be able to hear my babbling. The whole house was asleep. That's my story and I'm stickin' to it.

Kaikoura

Another quick picture post! Kaikoura (made of up the Maori "kai" meaning "food," and "koura," meaning something like "of the sea") is famous for it's wildlife and, oddly enough, it's seafood. There's a HUGE ocean trench right off shore which they call the Whale Highway, along with a coral reef sort of thing, that all comes together to create a GREAT place for whales, dolphins, seals, sea lions, fish, turtles, and all kinds of stuff!

And I went on a whale watch! It was AWESOME, and we saw FOUR sperm whales! For those of you that don't know, that's effing rare.



Whale tail!

Mt. Cook

I made it up to Mt. Cook after Queenstown, and it was pretty amazing. I had a cold (and honestly I was still a bit sore from my scaling of Ben Lomond) so I didn't try any of the walks, but I DID get to see the Sir Edmund Hillary museum, which was super cool! Mt. Cook is the tallest mountain in NZ, and it's what Sir Ed practiced on for Everest.

"It is an act of worship just to sit and look at a high mountain"
-Sir Edmund Hillary

Part of the memorial to all the climbers who have died in the attempt.


Me and the man himself, life size. I ALMOST measure up.

The sun hitting the mountain range the morning we left.

Milford Sound

Alright, here are a couple of picture posts of the last few things I did before I got back up to Auckland! First, Milford Sound. Which is actually a misnomer, as a sound is a riverbed that the sea has eventually flooded. It's ACTUALLY a fjord, which is a part of the sea that's had land raised up through it. *pushes nose bridge of dorky glasses*

HERE WE GO

There's no way to show the scale of this place. Just imagine craning your neck up and STILL not being able to see the top very well.


There are so many waterfalls!

Here's the bottom of one...


Here's the famous Miter Peak, which is apparently the most photographed mountain in New Zealand!
Just. Beautiful.

Going North

“I love the road, and I’ve been blessed, but I love you best!”
-Caroline, by Brandi Carlile

Guys, I’m coming home! I’ve changed my plane ticket to May 10th, so I’ll be back in about a week and a half! First, let me just say, I’m really excited about this.

But I also feel compelled to explain my reasoning a bit. Which is lame, ‘cause I shouldn’t have to explain a desire to come home after traveling for three and a half months, but because my visa is valid for a year, and because I’ve met so many people who have been on the road for many more months, and some even years, I feel like I should explain.

When I first set out, I told everyone I didn’t know how long I’d be gone, but it’d probably be between six months and a year. The reason I had no idea what the time frame would be was because I had no idea what I was looking for, or where I’d end up, or what I’d be doing. The reality of it is that, as much as I love the road and feel its call pretty constantly, it’s also pretty hard to be packing your bags and moving on every day, especially alone, and I’ve come to really respect people who do it for a living. But my reasons for coming back aren’t based in my travel fatigue, so much as in the following:

1) Money, cost of living and timeframe – Guys, it is WICKED expensive to live in this country. You have to budget 10 to 15 dollars per meal even to just get something small (even a cheeseburger value meal at McDonalds is $8), at least $25 for a paperback book, $2.50 or so for a small candy bar… you get the idea. So just living and paying for food and accommodation will deplete your wallet pretty fast, even WITH the exchange rate (which is going downhill pretty fast), and if you add any activities on to that, well… The long and short of it is that I worked like a dog at two jobs in the States for six months, and that amount of money lasted me three in NZ. I planned on getting a couple of jobs here, and I did, but earning minimum wage is not enough to fund travel. It’s enough to get you food and lodging if you’re working full time, but that’s pretty much it. In order to make enough money to travel around some more I’d have to work like a dog here for another six months, and I’m just not prepared to do that because

2) just like I felt the call out here, I’m now feeling the call home. There are things I’ve wanted to accomplish, and I HAVE done 3/4ths of them (or will by the time I set food in the States again), and there are things I couldn’t have expected, and they’ve changed me. All travel changes you, if you let it, but quests and pilgrimages like this one are especially prone to revelation and rebirth. Because I feel changed, and like I’ve gained a lot from what I’ve done and learned here, I feel like this trip has fulfilled its purpose. It’s as simple as that, and yet I can’t explain exactly what those changes are and exactly what I HAVE learned partly because they are too personal to make real for someone else, and partially because I don’t know yet fully what the end result is or will be.

Does that make sense? Probably not. But if you end up in deep conversation with me when I come back, as I know those of you who I’m closest with most definitely will, I’ll be able to explain a bit better. I’ve had layers of my dragon skin pealed away; I’ve faced several challenges, mental, physical and spiritual, and come out on top; I’ve rediscovered a self that I haven’t seen hide or hair of since I was young, and while I still have a ways to go on one issue that I’m currently dealing with, I feel stronger than I have in years.

But even when I come home, my journey isn’t over. First of all, homecoming is just as much a part of the quest as leaving it. Arnold van Gennep, one of anthropology’s founding fathers, said that any rite of passage or pilgrimage is made up of separation, ordeal and reintegration. So I’ve still got one stage left, at least! Secondly, what a lot of travel will make you realize is that whether you’re in your own country or half-way across the world, there are pilgrimages to make, mountains to climb, things to discover… The fortunate or unfortunate thing about this truth is that it often TAKES a trip to the ends of the earth to realize this. And I think that’s ok, because at least in my case, I always want to see what’s over the next hill, even if it IS just as cool as what’s in my backyard.

Anyway. The gist of all this is that I’m coming home. And I’m excited about it!

I’m excited for late spring/early summer. I’m excited to be in tune with the seasons again. I’m excited for services at St. John’s. I’m excited for high tops, having more than three changes of clothes, having a room of my own to lie down in at night, space to do yoga, cheaper food (especially chocolate!), maple trees, being able to sing at the top of my lungs in my car, driving down the stretch of highway 19 between I35 and Northfield, FREE INTERNET, constant access to a library, hearing Maddie making the whole house loud, bubble baths, sitting and taking with mom and Lance before bed, seeing the sunrise out my East window in the morning and falling asleep in the glow of the streetlight at night, sitting and being slightly frustrated with sitting while listening to Gabe muck around with a guitar, giggling like mad with my sisters when dad says something particularly hilarious, moving my chickens back into the yard for the summer (if they haven’t been moved already!), having more control over what and when I eat and exercise, being able to do laundry WHENEVER I WANT, walking in the arb, biking around with my ipod on, going to the Co-op, being able to talk to people on the phone, going camping with my new tent (I plan to do that a lot this summer!), eating breakfast in the sunny kitchen, ETC ETC

I’m excited. Can you tell? But don’t worry, there will be a long list of things I’ll miss about New Zealand coming soon. And also updates with things like the Fjordlands, Mt. Cook and Kaikoura. :-)

The Moments

“For the pilgrim, the traveler with a deep purpose, this is the moment of truth, when the search for the real takes you to a place that pierces your heart.”

-The Art Of Pilgrimage

These are the moments that have pierced mine:

The afternoon I went hiking in Tongariro National Park, and spent hours sauntering, then running, then climbing through the thickest greenery I’d ever seen. With my green shirt and camo shorts I felt like I became part of the forest, whipping through the trees with my pack light on my shoulders, ears following the sound of trickling streams, eyes pealed for the birds that flew kamikaze fashion across the path in front of me. Every moment was pure joy, every straining muscle was a song of thankfulness, every touch of the plants on my skin as I passed was a blessing.

The moment I walked into the white church in Dannevirke and sat down in a pew, listening to the music and the prayers of the people for the first time in what seemed like ages. I felt so far from home, and yet here, on the other side of the world, my heart recognized a similarity, and for a moment the pain of distance and the comfort of the familiar washed over me and left me unable to stop crying. I spent the whole service in tears, as waves of emotion rolled over me and smashed me into the bedrock of who and what I am; a soul bound in flesh, who aches to shed the barriers of skin and bone and join a greater chorus. It wasn’t sadness, and it wasn’t happiness. It was a coming home.

The day I decided to climb Ben Lomond I faced another layer of what I’ve come to call my “dragon skin.” On the hill up to the start of the path I thought “wow, this is rough. Maybe I won’t go all the way to the top.” On the first few miles of the trail through birch forest, with my Achilles tendons feeling like they were about to snap, I thought “maybe I’ll just go up to the tree line.” After I broke out of the forest and into the sunlight with miniscule snowflakes falling down around me I stopped to marvel, and to have lunch, and thought “maybe I’ll just go back after I’m done eating.” But I didn’t. These negative “I can’t do it” thoughts haunted me all the way up that mountain. Every time I’d get to a point when I had to just stop and breathe, I’d look up and convince myself that I was just going to go a little farther, just to that next hill, just to that next boulder, just to that next turn in the path. Finally I made it to Ben Lomond Saddle, the base of the mountain’s tip, the place I told myself I’d be proud of if I could just make it there. And then I looked up and saw how close the top was, and looked down at my exhausted body, my bruised knees and blistered feet and said “I can’t go back now.” I forced myself up that last precipice, occasionally scaling it with my hands and feet because the boulders and the incline wouldn’t let you up any other way, but up I went. The moment when I finally touched the cairn at the top and looked around, breathless, I felt like time stopped. I’d done it. My heart felt like it might stutter to a halt at any moment, I felt like I’d been run over by a truck, but my mind was flying out over the endless expanse that spread out below me. I threw my fear, my doubt and my pain off the top of that mountain, and I came down clean.

Wander Lonely Through The Woods

Brandi Carlile - Have You Ever

Have you ever wandered lonely through the woods?
And everything there feels just as it should.
You're part of the life there,
You're part of something good;
If you've ever wandered lonely through the woods.

Have you ever stared into a starry sky?
Lying on your back you're asking why
What's the purpose, I wonder who am I;
If you've ever stared into a starry sky.

Have you ever been out walking in the snow?
Tried to get back where you were before,
You always end up not knowing where to go;
If you've ever been out walking in the snow.

If you'd ever been out walking you would know.

Ben Lomond

Just a quick post with pictures from the mountain I climbed yesterday. The memory of doing this is going to stick with me. There were three separate times when I sat down and thought "I don't think I can do this. I think I have to turn around." But I didn't. I got to the top of the highest point in the area. It was a pretty intense experience.

The path up once I broke the treeline. That's Ben Lomond. Ufda.


Got to a bit of a plateau...


There's Queenstown, waaaaaay down there! And here's my typical "I don't know what I should be doing in this picture" face.


Two thirds of the way up, and I've still got the worst part ahead of me:



But I did it! Here's the cairn at the top to prove it!

And here's one of the views from the top. I'll show you more when I get home! :-)

It's A Random Thoughts And Feelings Post!

Written next to a crackling fire in Abel Tasman
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I'm not sure how it happened, but somehow I've stumbled into Neverland. It turns out that it's not a place, it's a state of mind; a feeling of unsettlement; a traveling; a collective mind. This group of half-grown children from numerous countries all share a sense of displacement. We all feel forced from the nursery and into a dusky in-between where we have no solid ground. So we travel, we take a gap year, an overseas experience, a break from real life. We have vague ideas of what we'll do when we get "back home," but even as we say the words we wonder inwardly where home is. Home rings two tones for us, one a call of comfort, the other a clanking of chains. Perhaps it's only us, a priveliged section of humans growing older in a new millenium, but we would rather spend time wondering where the next meal will come from, what the next sunrise will bring, than serve the certainty of a paper-strewn desk. As one colorful bohemian related over the neck of a battered guitar, "I would do anything for money except work." But my university education and knowledge of human nature won't let me naively claim this feeling as my generation's alone. There are too many revolutions and renaissances in the history books that say differently. Surely the youth of the bored French aristocracy felt much as we do, and what does that say about us? But surely the starving artists of 14th century Italy felt these things as well, or we would not see our faces so clearly in their brushstrokes. The question remains, will we live our whole lives in this medial state? Some of us might. And some of us will step through the misty curtain to another world. But this Neverland will always be a part of our story.

Walking
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I do all my best thinking when I'm walking. Hiking through the forest, sometimes out of breath, sometimes sauntering along, listening to music or listening to the birds; it clears out my mind and lets me see clearly. It reminds me of things I already knew, but had forgotten, and it zaps me with insight when I'm most receptive. Soren Kierkegaard said "Above all, do not lose your desire to walk: Every day I walk myself into a state of well-being and walk away from every illness. I have walked myself into my best thoughts." Nietzsche said "Never trust a thought that didn't come by walking." I completely agree. Whenever I feel lost, all I have to do is move my feet.

Purpose
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When I was getting ready to come to New Zealand I spent a long time trying to figure out what my motivation was. I read and thought a lot about it, and decided that ultimately I was heading to New Zealand in search of myself, because I felt a call. What I realized in the last week, with the help of some awesome new friends, is that I'm NOT looking for myself. I already AM. That's not the problem. What I really aim to do is to strip away all the things in my past, in my mind, and in my point of view that cover over the core of that being that I am. That's why I've always found the image in C.S. Lewis' 'Dawn Treader' where Aslan rips off Eustace's dragon skin so powerful. I'm covered in that same thick hide, made up of past grievences I couldn't let go, fears I was too afraid to face, and other layers I haven't found out about yet. I've only been in NZ for two and a half months, but already I'm feeling those dead scales peeling away and I'm letting the truth and love of who I am shine through. I'm passing through a fire, here, and I can't wait to see my reflection on the other side.

The West Coast, The Gang, And Queenstown

Wow, it has been WAY too long since I last updated. I feel like a ton has happened, even though it’s only been about a week and a half. Before I start going into the cool stuff that’s happened, I have to introduce a bunch of new characters.

So there’s Meg. She was the one I met first when we shared a room in Abel Tasman. She’s from Ontario, and she’s one of the funniest and most real people I’ve ever met. She is, as we've been joking, the courage behind my badassery. She has a great heart, and I’m gonna miss her tons when she heads to Australia in a few days. She also apparently has a friend named Tom back at home who is a male version of me, so I’m totally going to visit when I get back. She’s the one on the right.

There’s Emily, who’s also from Canada (Calgary, I think), and she’s a crazy awesome bohemian who’s running around New Zealand without a plan, much like me. I met her the first night we were in Abel Tasman as well, and my first memory of her is her sitting in the common room playing guitar and saying “I’d do anything for money, except for work.” It was hilarious.

There’s Kira and Hardy, who I have to write up as a pair ‘cause they’re so effing adorable together. They’re from Germany, and I honestly have to say that I’ve never found German a nice language until I heard them speak it. Hardy’s a bit quiet until you get to know him, and then he’s just a super chill, super nice guy who I wish I could talk to more. Kira’s probably one of the top five most gorgeous people I’ve ever met. She’s got style, and she’s got a sort of dry humor that really comes out in her German to English translations, and she’s playful, which is one of my favorite characteristics in people. Here’s the four of them all together:

Then there’s Anna, who’s from England, and is a bit of a bookworm like me, but she knows how to party. We’ve had some great conversations about communes in Niceragua and the English opinion of the royal family.

And last there’s Joao and Ghislaine, and I’m not sure if I’m spelling EITHER of their names right. Joao is from Portugal and Ghislaine is from the Netherlands. Joao competes only with Meg for the loudest person in the group. He’s crazy and will go running off places randomly and singing at the top of his lungs in total silence. I know a bit less about Ghi, because she’s super quiet most of the time, and sort of stays in the background, but I guess that’s to be expected if you’re dating Joao.

So that’s the core eight (including me). We’ve got a few that come and go outside of that, but the eight of us have been together since we got to the South Island. We’re tight, and we’ll all be going our separate ways starting tomorrow, and that bums me out.

But here’s what we’ve been up to in the past week:

-Took the HUGE ferry from Wellington to Picton and started our journey on the South Island.

-Spent the first night here at Abel Tasman National Park, which was beautiful, but not quite as nice as National Park in the North Island, at least to me. I thought about doing the Great Walk they have there, but decided against it in the end because the timing was weird. Now I’m glad I did, ‘cause I wouldn’t have really met this cool group!

-The next night we spent in Barrytown, which has a population of about 40, so our bus pretty much doubled it. We stayed in a pub that doubled as a hostel, and had a crazy dress-up party and I had my first long convo with Meg about not knowing what we’re doing with our lives. It’s really nice to meet other people who have the same feelings and doubts about that as I do.

-The next night we were in Franz Joseph, which was BEAUTIFUL. My favorite place, I think, or at least right up there with Natty P, as Meg calls it. Just when you think the hills can’t get any higher, you see the even LARGER mountains and the glaciers on top.

-We stayed two night in Franz Joseph so we could spend a whole day climbing the glacier, which I did, and it was GORGEOUS.

-Next day we got on the road again and slept in Makarora, another tiny town with about one store. That night was karaoke, and I’m proud to say that I’ve now embarrassed myself in that fashion at least once in my life. Hardy and I sang “By The Way” by the Chili Peppers. We pretty much rocked it.

-Then, finally, the next day we got to Queenstown. I was sad that we were done with our beautiful West Coast drive, but it was nice to get back into civilization after our time in the wilds. Plus, this is the first place in NZ where I’ve felt like it’s really fall. Most of where we’ve been has been dense rainforest, and this is the first place with trees that change color!

-Since we got to Queenstown we’ve been bungy jumping (not me, but a few of us), been out partying, had some sweet serious convos, eaten Fergberger (which Queenstown is famous for), taken part of the walk around the lake, met some new friends, Kira’s gotten a SWEET tattoo (I thought about getting one, but nothing felt right), and had a pretty great time overall. Mostly we’re just enjoying being around each other. I keep feeling like I should be spending my time making plans and looking for jobs, but I figure taking a break from that for five days (last Friday through Tuesday) to enjoy being where I am with who I’m with isn’t a bad thing.

So I don’t know what I’m going to be doing, or where I’ll be, after Tuesday, but things will work out. I have a couple of job possibilities, but I’d like to stay near Queenstown for a bit. It’s so pretty here, and there are lots of hiking possibilities, even though I think it may now be too cold to camp. We’ll see. But I’ll try to keep this a bit more updated, and for more pictures of my adventures (I can only put so many on this blog ‘cause it takes SO long to upload) go check out my facebook.

Peace, y’all!

Birthday!

Well, here it is again (at least in New Zealand): April 7th. The day of my birth. I'm 23 now! Not entirely sure if I like it yet, but I'll have to wear it around for a bit before I decide if it fits. On the bright side, now I can listen to "What's My Age Again?" by Blink-182 and feel totally awesome. There's something great about listening to songs that talk about being your age. Next year I have "24" by Switchfoot to look forward to. Yay!

This is also my last day in Wellington, so here's a couple of things that I've been seeing/thinking/doing:
-There's this homeless guy who sits on the corner one block from my hostel, and after seeing him there every day, sometimes several times, while I walk from one place to another, I started having this urge to do something for him. He wasn't asking for anything. He's always just sitting, or sometimes sleeping, rolled up in a tattered blanket. For two or three days I just thought about what I could give him, and after rejecting a whole bunch of ideas I realized I had an extra small blanket and pillow that I'd bought while I was at PM Shearing that I didn't really need anymore. So yesterday I rolled them up and brought them with when I went for a walk, and when I got to his corner he was sleeping (which was great for me, as I was nervous about what I'd say to him). So I just set them next to him, and later on that day I saw him snuggled up with them in his usual spot. It made me feel pretty awesome. Now I smile every time I see him.
-I've had some pretty bad homesickness today. I actually counted how many days it would take me to go straight through the rest of the Stray tour back to Auckland and then go home. On the one hand, I'm frustrated with myself for wanting to leave only two months after getting here, but I miss home, and I think it's partly because I'm living like I'm on vacation. If I was living like this was every-day life (watching my spending more carefully, working all the time, having a set schedule) then I don't think it would be as exhausting. Or, not so much exhausting as...I'm not sure. But I feel like I want to go home. The only thing that's keeping me here is that there's still so much I want to see. But guys, I hope too many people aren't disappointed in me if I come back in another two months or so. Is four to six months a respectable amount of time to be gone when my visa's for a year? I feel like not taking the whole time would be wasteful.
-I really like Wellington as a city. It's surrounded by water, and it's got lots of green space, and it's very hilly, like San Francisco or Edinburgh. It doesn't make you feel closed in, like other cities I've been in. I could live here for a while if I wasn't so rarin' to get down to the South Island.
-I realized while I was on the Lord of the Rings tour the other day (yes, pictures are coming, but the internet's so slow here it takes forever to upload, so I'm waiting!) that I'm at my happiest when I'm out in the woods. My one shining moment of pure joy that I've been holding on to lately is the day I went for a hike in National Park near Taupo. It was a perfect day, and I had music and a pack and my boots, and I roamed through the woods for five hours, saw an amazing waterfall, and came back exhausted to a bowl of noodles and a hammock. When I was out with the LOTR tour we went to a wooded area where they shot Rivendel and I wandered around a bit and felt that same happiness. I've heard that you should follow those feelings, because they're usually telling you something, like what you should be doing. So I'm trying to listen. But mostly I just want that feeling again. It's right up there with being in love.

So, there are a couple of things for now. I'll be posting pictures and more travel updates soon!

Wellington (Finally!)

Alright, even though y'all have been LESS than helpful in responding to my angst-posts, I shall reward you with photos, regardless. I'm just that awesome. This shall be another pic-heavy and talk-lite post, so get ready!

Here's a picture of me and Ann and Murray, in case you were wondering who these strange people I stayed with in Dannevirke were. Please disregard my squinty eyes.

Before I left they gave me this cool necklace made out of glass. The spiral is a common New Zealand motif, representing the newly uncurling fern. Ann said it reminded her of me because it had blue, like the sea, and green like the hills, and I'd be traveling in both of them. I like it a lot.

Here's my first view of Wellington from the bus:

My first full day in Wellington was spent at the zoo. It was AWESOME. Here's a picture of the one legged kiwi they have! His other leg was cut off in a trap before the zoo rescued him. This is probably the only time I'll see NZ's national bird, as they're nocturnal and endangered.

I got to help with the check-up of two baby meerkats at the zoo! It was SO cool.


Here's the Beehive, which is Wellington's parliament building:

And the new St. Paul's cathedral, where I went to a Lutheran-style service!

Here's Te Papa, which is the national museum. It's part natural history, part art, and part science museum:
Here's a map of all the fault lines in the world, with the one that goes straight through New Zealand:

A funny quote I found at the museum:

The view of Wellington from the top of Mt. Victoria:

My first view of the South Island from the tip of Wellington!:

I went out to lunch with Nathan and Bridget (Bridget is Ann and Murray's daughter) on Sunday and ordered "grilled flounder" from the bay outside the window. This is what came out. I was a little confused about how to eat it, but it was DELICIOUS.

And there HAD to be an "after" picture:

View of Wellington from the top of Mt. Cook (which is opposite Mt. Victoria):

I went for a tramp out along the the southern tip of Wellington today. It was beautiful:

(Intermission Part Deux)

(And yes, the Wellington posts with pictures are still coming)

This week I’ve been dealing with my addiction to fiction.

After sitting one night realizing how much time I spend reading, watching movies, watching tv shows, being invested in fictional characters, and talking with others who have the same interests, the thoughts started to annoy me.

I mean, here I am in New Zealand. When I was at home I was daydreaming about coming here. I’m always daydreaming about faraway places and the adventures I’ll go on when I get there. And now I’m HERE. I’m ON my grand adventure. And all I want to do half the time is curl up and immerse myself in someone else’s life! How can that be?

I can’t remember a time when I WASN’T a bookworm, or out in the backyard playing pretend, or staring out the window daydreaming. I think, for whatever reason, this is just part of who I am. And I think part of that is a good thing; it’s part of my creativity. But the problem comes in when the fiction starts to take you away from real life. From this moment, now.

A lot of the awareness that I’ve been trying to foster, and the meditation and prayer that I try to practice, is based in the knowledge that the present moment is the only one in which you can act. The past is done, the future is uncertain at best, but NOW you can think and feel and do. And when I realize I’ve just spent a large part of my day living in fantasy, I wonder what it is I could have been doing instead.

I think part of my problem is that I associate the word “happiness” with an ideal state that you can achieve, and not with a constant state of joy in which I can live. In the back of my mind I believe that I’ll know I’ve achieved happiness when I’m in a place where I’m no longer daydreaming of something better.

I think that’s part of what I’m looking for, on this journey: that definition of happiness. Finding a place where I think “yes, there is no better place than this.” A place where I don’t want anything more than what is in front of me.

But is that realistic? Ok, bad choice of words when discussing fiction. I mean, is that…healthy? I don’t know that I ever will be in a place where I stop dreaming, and if I am, will that mean I’ve lost the creative part of myself? And if I lost my creative side, would I really be happy?

And clearly I’m a bit TOO caught up in my thoughts if I’m going around in circles like this.

I guess when it comes down to it, I feel bad for spending time enjoying something that has me sitting on my butt instead of “doing,” and I’m not sure if I should change things, or just let myself be. Or something in between the two.

(Intermission)

Ok, so I'm gonna post a lot of cool stuff about Wellington now that I've arrived here, and things ARE super cool, but I have to take a quick break to freak out, so bear with me.

I don't know what I'm going to do with my life when I get back to the States.

Yeah, I know I'm repeating myself with this "what am I doing with my life" stuff, but I just feel so lost sometimes. I was walking around at the zoo today and enjoying the animals and thinking about how I wanted to be a zookeeper for a while, and that got be thinking about all the things I've wanted to "be" in my life.

The first time I remember answering that "what do you want to be when you grow up?" question, I answered that I wanted to be a part-time veterinarian and part-time player for the WNBA. I couldn't settle on just one thing even then. Over time I've thought seriously about being a vet, a fiction writer, a zookeeper, a museum curator, a journalist, a farmer, etc, etc.

I know my career isn't ME, and I think as a whole people are too focused on defining themselves by the job they have, but I DO need to figure out how I'm going to earn money, and how I'm going to afford a place to live, and WHERE I want to live, among other things.

While I'm here in New Zealand I'm living on borrowed time. I'm learning tons, and making enough money to travel around and see things. Kerouac would be proud. I'm making it as a vagabond, and I'm proud of it. BUT, people are already asking me about what I'm going to do when I get home, and I don't have an answer. There are so many possibilities, and yet everytime I try to follow one possibility I seem to hit a brick wall.

If I want to go and be a vet, I'd have to go back to school for a year or two to qualify for vet school, and then do that. Another 6 years in school. If I wanted to be a vet tech, which would be pretty cool, I'd have to go back to school for two years, but then my bachelor's would pretty much be wasted.

If I wanted to be a zookeeper I'd need to go back to school for between 1 and 4 years and then find an internship. Starting my way from the bottom, again.

If I wanted to be a writer, I'd have to get something published. Ditto being a journalist. So far this is looking the most likely, haha.

If I wanted to be a museum curator I'd have to get an internship at a museum. This is fairly possible, but I'm not sure I want to work in a museum, as that usually means living in a city.

If I wanted to be a farmer, I'd need to get a position on a farm (working my way into a management position) while I make money for land or a farm of my own. I could be working at that for at least ten years before seeing anything come of it.

I don't know, guys. Everything just seems so impossible, sometimes. I'm a go-getter, and if I really felt passionately about one thing, I'd work for it even though it DID seem impossible, but I'm pulled in different directions with no clear sign saying "THIS IS YOUR CALLING."

I need some direction. Anyone got any ideas?

"If you are depressed you are living in the past.
If you are anxious you are living in the future.
If you are at peace you are living in the present."
-Lao Tzu

Onward!

I’m done with my dairy job now, after two and a half weeks working for Hennie and Kerri Verwaayen, and I’m on to the next thing. Basically, here’s minor plan in outline form, as I want this post to be mostly photos.

-It’s now Sunday. I’ll be staying in town with Ann and Murray until Wednesday or Thursday, when I’ll take a bus down to Wellington.
-I’ll spend somewhere around a week in Wellington, exploring NZ’s capitol, seeing the museums, and if I’m lucky, stumbling onto some of the work being done for The Hobbit, which started filming last week!!
-While in Wellington I’ll catch up with the Stray bus and then ride over to the South Island with them and continue on in their route, which, I think, goes to Abel Tasman national park next!

And after that I have no idea. The footloose and fancy-free life of the road is calling.

But here’s what’s happened on the farm while I was around, and I’ll hopefully have some pictures of Ann and Murray and their place in my next post.

P.S. Some of these photos are blurry because they were taken through a plastic bag, as I didn’t want my camera to be covered in manure and other viscous fluids.

Here’s the milking shed at the farm:

A pen full of my charges. That bunch in the back is the mob of Fresian heifer calves.


Taking the four-wheeler and walking the in-calf cows out to their paddock:


One of the numerous paddocks on the farm. Pretty, though!

Bringing in the milking herd. You can’t see it here, but there are cows as far as the eye can see all lined up. I’m tempted to re-write that Cake song and call it “Long Line of Cows.”

Hennie and Lucy helping deliver a breech calf:

A couple of pics of me and my calves!





My white board, outlining the different pens, and who’s where:

Me in my coveralls in front of the milking shed:

My calf bite (ok, she didn’t really bite me, she was just sucking on my arm and then butted upwards like she’d do if she were really drinking, and happened to graze me with her baby teeth):


So yeah! Here are a couple more points of note from the last week:
-I was apparently in my first earthquake, even though I didn’t feel it. I was milking with Hayden and there was a squeaking noise that I thought was the milk pump, but Hayden froze and looked at the ceiling. I said “what’s up?” and he said “didn’t you feel that?” and I said no, and he said “that was an earthquake! A tiny one. It moved the shed a bit.” And I said “oh!” And that was that!
- I got cut with a rusty wire a couple of days ago. As I was measuring it Hayden walked by and tripped over it, pulling it through my hands, and it was all rusted and frayed and it ripped my right hand up a bit. So the next day I checked my immunization records and found that I hadn’t had a tetanus booster since 2000, so I called the clinic in town, and after getting my name, birthday and permanent address they told me to come in the next day. The next morning I went in, got my shot, waited the 20 minutes to make sure I wasn’t allergic to it, and got out of the office in half an hour! And the shot was free! Under some accident insurance scheme in New Zealand, if you’re injured on the job you get most medical treatment for free, even if you’re not a resident! They didn’t ask for my visa or passport or anything! It was amazingly efficient and pain free. Except for the shot itself, of course.
-This isn’t really news, but I’m super in love with Brandi Carlile and her music. I posted a song of hers in the last post, and I hope you all listened to it. She’s all I’ve been listening to lately.

I’ve been feeling homesick lately, as well. I guess this happens whenever I’m in between things. But I really miss the people and places back home. More than ever, I wish there was a way to transport back and forth seamlessly, but then life would be too easy. I was saying to Kerri on the way into town today that I think people are constantly torn between their desire for adventure and new-ness, and their need for comfort and routine. When I’m home I want to be out, and when I’m out I want to be home. It’s part of the human condition, I reckon.

Also, I’m picking up Kiwi phrases like “I reckon,” “I’m knackered,” “I’m gonna go have a feed,” “I haven’t heard that in yonks,” and “pardon?” when you haven’t heard someone. We’ll see if I can bring them back to the States. :-)

And lastly, here’s a video of birdsong in the morning on the farm. This one’s for you, Dita!