Yosemite

I've now washed everything from my backpacking trip except for a red bandana. If memory serves me correctly, my former students would have called it karipakku; something that you 'borrow' until it 'becomes yours'. There is a gentle undertone of thievery, but also a level of acknowledgement from the burgled party. Out of all the karipakku that I have amassed through the years, the red bandanna seems to have stuck with me the longest.

My friends and I loaded up our gear into the back of my new/used Rav4 on a Friday afternoon, checking with each other that we remembered all the supplies that the Yosemite wilderness would require. Do you think we have enough fuel? Will hiking poles actually help on this trail or will they just add weight? Are there bathrooms near Half Dome or should we pack the poop shovel? After reaching a 'close enough' consensus, the car door slammed shut and we headed East. A collection of CDs dating back to my high school days cycled through the speakers as the landscape grew wilder. Perfumed breezes and the calls of Stellar's Jays drifted through our open windows until finally, the crooked mountain road opened up into the park's wide mouth. "Welcome to Yosemite," greeted the ranger at the gate. The sun danced with the clouds over cascading waterfalls and around immense rock spires.

"Sorry guys," I said to my companions, "time to join the paparazzi." We stepped out of the car and waited for our photo-op in front of an impressive fall. We snapped a few more of us 'climbing' the miniature Half Dome statue, and agreed to tell people it was the real deal if we chickened out of the final ascent. Little did we know that it wouldn't be our lack of courage, but the guiles of Mother Nature that would disrupt our carefully laid plans.

Our first morning in the backcountry began with utter disbelief. "Is that... hail... ?" It was mid-June, and yes, it appeared to be hailing. After working so hard to win a lottery-based permit for one of the park's most infamous climbs, but we were forced to begrudgingly admit that the smooth granite face of Half Dome would be insurmountable with the current conditions. "Well, shit... whose got a Plan B?" Sitting on stumps and drinking coffee from a small boiler, we mulled over our options. "We could wait it out until tomorrow and try again, maybe? Find a baby hike around here today - something short and flat?" Seemingly the best option, the others went to the river to filter more water for the impromptu hike. I stayed behind and built a fire. The crackling logs began heaving life, and the hail hissed as it was consumed by the heat. The night's chill finally began to melt out of my body. It wasn't long before I had company, drawn in by the warmth.

Where are you from? What hikes are you doing? Can you believe this effing weather? As we chatted around the fire, strangers became tribe. There's something about fire that bonds people. You need extra fuel? Blankets? Yeah, we'll definitely take your unused ramen, thanks. I tied my red bandana around my braids to keep off the ashes as I stirred the fire. Wendy and Scott returned from the river, and I introduced them to the newcomers. As we discussed our hiking plans, three became five.

The trail we embarked upon wound through a forest that told its own fire story. Blackened trees spindled up to a payne's grey sky, and colorful birds landed on charred branches. We were relatively alone, although signs of fresh scat and claw marks indicated that bears were not far off. The morning's hail turned into a light snow, which floated silently through the black forest and down to a lush carpet of greenery and wildflowers. A stream emptied into several glittering pools and another waterfall gushed around a bend. The company laughed together and marveled at the wonder of the place; surely this was a forest meant for casting wishes in.

That night we had simple dinners from packets over an evening fire, and laughed until our bellies hurt. The snow had not let up through the course of the day, and it began to pick up as night fell. With the dipping nightly temperatures, it became important to retreat to shelter. I wished my new friends a fond farewell and stayed to put out the fire. Smoke curled around me and I savored a reflective moment alone, in the silent, snowy darkness.

Back in my tent, I untied my wet braids. It had become apparent that we would not be able to make our climb the following morning either. I smiled as I set my red bandana on my lap. It reeked of campfire. My cherished karipakku would be leaving Yosemite not with the memory of an adventure I had anticipated, but with the smell of one wholly unexpected.

January Twenty-Something

No. No, no, no, no, no. You cannot start on the liquor at 8:30. You are still in your pajamas, for chrissake.

I paced around my unit for 10 minutes or so feeling anxious. What was I supposed to be doing... I forgot. I know I had plans yesterday of what I would do to occupy myself. Carefully laid plans from keep me moving forward.
Shit, how could I forget... liquor liquor liquor liquor.
Gross, rum breakfast sounds awful. That isn't what you want.
What else is nearby and destructive that I can have? Shit, cut that out, you nut!

Practice your music. I don't wanna.
Paint. I don't feel like it.
Facebook - shit, shit, shit. Aww, you did it. :(
Why did you look?
Another dose of sickness.

Reality is a heavy rain sinking into my wool sweater.
Pipeline approved.
Coat hanger abortions are back in fashion.
Your career will be frozen.
Science is a hoax.
I'm so itchy.
GET OUT OF BED. PUT DOWN YOUR PHONE.

Crap, why did I ever get a smart phone?
Oh yeah, cause I couldn't get my flip phone repaired. Shoved into the next wave of reality, plugged in and monitored.
But the GPS is so haaaaandy

Pacing, pacing.
Oh thank god. COFFEE.
I forgot about you, coffee. Routine. Normal. Wholesome-ish.
Something to sit down with and rake up my jumbled thoughts.

okay....... so I'm looking at my Christmas tree. Yes, my Christmas tree. There are no ornaments anymore, just needles all over the floor. It's drooping outline is a reminder that I need to figure out what's next. It's January twenty-something; January 2017 will only be twenty-something a short bit longer, and so will I.

Yeah so the tree - get rid of that thing. I will.
What's next, though?
I wish I still had a flip phone.

Hey! Focus, lady.
WHAT ARE YOU GONNA DO?

To Be Still

You are more than it.

You are more than your Heartbreak

You are more than your Blood

You are more than your Joy

Your Guilt

Your Memories, Obligations, or Fears

You are more than Numbers on a Scale or a Chart

or a Sexual Identity

You are more than your Hobbies

You are more than your Mantras

You are more than a Mother, Father, Sister, Brother,

You are not Color

You are not Money

You have no Face

You have no Body

No Gym Routine

No Couch Routine

No Addiction

You are more than a Factory for processing society's drudgery

You are more than Exhaustion

You are more than Bloodshed, Revenge, Anger

You are more than even Love or Understanding

Strip it all away.

You are more than a sum of your parts, more than a set of societal norms, more than your feelings. 

These are the easy answers; the ones that can be used to quantify ourselves based on specificities of time and environment. They are for the benefit of that which is not us.

If ever you have the courage to release your ego, you may have the chance to steal away

Who Am I

You are exactly the weight of the universe.