Lights in Africa
Be content with what you have / rejoice in the way things are
When you realize there is nothing lacking / the whole world belongs to you
-Lao-Tzu
Tao.
Category Archives: Notes on Travel
100 + 1.
This is my 101st post! Which prompted me to begin an “overhaul” on the site (see: new layout/tabs). It’s a work in progress.
I’m finding it fascinating to read back on old posts from 2009, when all of this began. While I still have similar viewpoints it’s strange to read. Almost as if I’m reading someone else’s thoughts. I never would have guessed where I would end up at the beginning of this huge venture, but I’m beyond thrilled where it has led me. I don’t know what the future holds (other than, of course, more travel!) but I’m quite excited to find out.
Fears and Confrontations.
When traveling there is a forceful inclination to confront one’s fears more often than we might otherwise be afforded. Thus far, this has proved as a means of insight and improvement. Being forced to grapple with what makes me uncomfortable, allowing overcoming, and as a result being better. What is life without constant improvement? I wouldn’t like to know. But there is this one fear that I can’t come to terms with. It illuminates itself at random, and its seeming non-threatening nature perplexes me.
A Cautious Adventurist
Winter, 1999. I’m sitting, or really, collapsing on the south face of Brundage Mountain, in McCall Idaho. My gloves have been haphazardly strewn several feet behind me, I’m freezing as tears flood my face-mask. I’m not hurt, not really, but by the looks of it, I warranted several worried inquires as fellow skiers and snowboarders passed by. Then again, I was in the middle of the trail-I knew I was making a scene. I unclip my board and anchored into the snow, burying my face into the sleeve of my ski-jacket. It wasn’t a bad spill, and besides, I was used to it-my fall to successful navigation ratio was near 1:1. But I hated it, I hated the clamped feeling of anxiety knowing I might fall or lose control; speed was not my friend, it never has been. And yet here I was, headstrong and determined to be good at this despite every instinct to stay in the lodge. My Dad, ever patient stands near me, waiting for this “episode” to pass, he knows I’ll get over it, and how he stood there on more then a few occasions as I cursed at my snowboard and anything related is beyond me. But I get up, I finish, and slowly I get better. Not fly-down-the-mountain on a double black better, but easily navigate a blue, and that’s enough for me.
Colliding With The Earth 