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Still Alive

Sorry, blogosphere!!! I’m still alive. I’ve been way better about my Instagram than anything long-form.

My last post was about my teacher training in June, and in it I wrote that I was stoked to be heading back to the shala in October.

Well… it’s October. And I’m back at the shala gearing up to start the first intensive of our 500hr training. (I’m still stoked.)

In between then and now I spent two weeks living in a garden shed in the middle of a cow pasture in southern Colorado; a week with a bunch of rad young people and an even cooler farmer outside of Boulder; a few days trekking through the Wind Rivers in the most stunning country I’ve ever seen with my own eyes; a month on a bison ranch plopped down in an expanse of yellow prairie with town no closer than 30 minutes in either direction; and a week road-tripping through the PNW with stops for lakeside camping, catching up with old friends, and park exploring.

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I’ve felt a ridiculously wide range of emotions, some welcome and some that I was hoping I’d never have to see again. I’d heard it said that “no matter where you go, there you are.” I was kind of hoping to skirt around that… but life is life and I’m still me and fear and anxiety and sadness and loneliness aren’t going away. Maybe the best part of this trip hasn’t been the variety and the freedom but the grounding that comes with knowing that happiness isn’t necessarily the result of variety and freedom; it’s a place one arrives at internally, decisively, and independently.

It’s hard to believe how soon things will be winding down.

In one of those moment of fear I found myself wondering, “Will staying in one place and going back to work mean that I’m no longer this strong, adventurous, capable person?”

Bullshit.

If anything, this year has taught me better how to listen and how to act on what moves me. Circumstances won’t always be so ideal or so idyllic, and that’s OK—necessary, even. I’ve done a lot of growing this year, and it doesn’t stop here. Luckily, I’m not done traveling quite yet.

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Postcard from Arkansas

In yoga teacher training—we’re closing out week three of four—we’ve been talking about how the will won’t ever be enough alone. Matt asks: “Have you ever noticed how even in your best efforts, you can’t live up to your highest ideals?” I had a lot of ideas about what and how much I’d be doing by now that I haven’t. That’s sort of the long way of saying I’m sorry for not writing.

Here’s the short version: Thanks to Tennessee, I know I want land and to grow my own food. Thanks to Arkansas, I know I want to know more about yoga and that I’d like to teach. Thanks to the road time in between, I know that I’m actually the kind of person I’ve always admired. I want to keep going.

Plans for the second half of the year are shifting a little. I’m still not sure about how much or when, and it’s that liminal space that makes me squirm—that damn Unknown. Still, where I used to freak about making the right decision, I think I get it now that they’re all right. They just go different places.

There’s a limit to striving. At a certain point it isn’t up to me and what a relief.

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Charlottesville

It’s been so nice to hang with my brother and sister-in-law in their beautiful home here in Charlottesville. Duke is at Darden, UVA’s business school, and I got to take class with him for the afternoon. It almost made me miss school… almost. I might like to go back to university one day, but for now I don’t need a campus to do my learning.

A 71º day begged for some outdoor yoga. I’m looking forward to lots more of this soon.

PSA: If you’re ever on the downtown walking mall, Draft is pretty sweet. 60 taps and they charge you by the ounce, so you can taste lots of beers. Fun!

Today I’ve got a 6+ hour drive to southwest Virginia. I think it’s only 3-some on the interstate, but ew, interstates. This feels sort of like the official launch of things, and I’m stoked.

Preparing for the Road

I don’t know my blood type, but I’ll be shocked if it isn’t type A. I leave in thirty-three days. At one point, I had four to-do lists (now I’m down to two). I’ve budgeted down to oil changes.

In mid-March I pack up and head to see family in D.C., Virginia, and West Virginia. I’ll hit Tennessee by April to WWOOF for a month, then mosey to the Ozarks to spend two at a yoga school. Afterwards it’s off to Colorado by way of a southern detour through White Sands National Park, then north to Wyoming to meet up with friends. Plans get fuzzy after that, but I’m hoping to spend at least a month WWOOFing in Montana before heading northwest through Washington and Oregon. Eventually it’s south to Santa Cruz, and then…?

Everything could change on the road. For that reason, detailed preparation feels both a little silly and also grounding. Things that are mostly complete:

    1. Figure out how to fit a year’s worth of clothes, books, and gear in my car.
    2. Remove my car’s backseats. This one I owe entirely to my boyfriend (see also #8 and #13). No #vanlife for me—I’m bringing too much equipment to fit a bunk.
    3. Sell the stuff that I’m not painfully attached to.
    4. Pack the stuff that I am painfully attached to for long-term storage.
    5. Donate the rest.
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      I’ve moved over thirteen times in the last six years, but transience can’t seem to stop me from nesting.
    6. Replace my old paddle board with an inflatable. Toting my board inside the car rather than on top should save (some??) gas.
    7. Research insurance. This is the really, really fun part of going on an adventure!! I had to find a new auto policy to cover me in all 50 states. While I was at it, I got my personal property insured (mostly camera gear). Insurance feels like a rip-off/bullshit, but I’m sure I won’t feel that way if a dickhead swipes my whole life out of my car. Least favorite to-do list item by far.
    8. Replace my blown out car speakers. Did you know that cars are actually just Legos?
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      Car guts
    9. Back up my data—I’m leaving a hard drive at home.
    10. Finally get zippers fixed.
    11. Buy things. As much as I’ve been trying to get rid,* there were still things I needed/wanted: a new lens, a National Parks pass, just a couple of books…
    12. Work freelance (see #11).
    13. Learn how to not get lost in the woods.
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      Orienteering training
    14. Narrow down my wardrobe. I found Project 333 right before getting started, and while I haven’t gotten my clothes corralled to just 33 items, I’m not far off. This shedding/streamlining feels very good.
    15. Somehow stay sane amidst the news cycle.
    16. Meditate. 10 minutes a day, every day. It helps. A lot. Yoga, too.
    17. Cuddle with the dog.
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      Maybe even more necessary than the yoga

Things still on the list:

  1. Learn how to change a tire, check my oil level, and check my tire pressure.
  2. Build a platform to even out the car floor for easier storage and maneuvering.**
  3. Do my damn taxes.

I’m not someone who easily uproots, but in what’s difficult is growth.

See you in March!

*The theme of preparing has definitely been STUFF. For a while the Kinfolk/Marie Kondo-fueled minimalist movement made me feel really shitty about my things, but in the process of assessing what I’ll keep and what I won’t, I’ve determined that it’s OK if your belongings feel like a piece of who you are. It’s also OK if you can’t afford to throw away your stuff. Ask yourself the hard questions that you need to in order to get rid of what isn’t worthwhile: Why am I holding onto this? What do I believe this thing will give me? What does this thing represent? Do I really use or need it? Ditch what feels stale and embrace the rest.

** By which I mean watch my boyfriend build me a platform to even out the car floor for easier storage and maneuvering