March 31, 2011
Grey
Grey, monochromatic shades outside my window and inside my mind. Shifting but flat movement, lacking energy or flow. Everywhere I look, a dormant promise of something: matted moss about to sprout into neon-green grass, low-hanging clouds about to split into blue sunshine, wet earth about to let loose its flurry of sprouts and small animal life. My "happy lamp" is on and my Vitamin D level is high, but I'm still grey inside. What dormant promise lies inside? An adventure yet to be experienced, a truth yet to be uncovered?
March 30, 2011
Taking the Time
I enjoy finding ironies in life. I know, weird right, but it gives me amusement. One irony I've been considering over the past couple weeks: I chose Literacy as one of my minors because I want to help students discover the joy of reading and writing as a lifelong journey, but I myself have rarely made the time for reading and writing outside of school. Last night I started to read a book. Not for a class, not for specific learning, but just for the sake of reading. My husband asked me as we headed for bed, "Whatever were you reading? I don't think I've ever seen you so engrossed in a book, just tuning out the world around you." I think that's what a good book should do. It should sweep you up and never put you down, even after the last word. It has been a while since I've read such a book. Or maybe it's just been a while since I've allowed myself to be swept up. So ladies, here's to surrendering yourself to a book that wants to be read.
March 29, 2011
Three Cups of Tea
Greg Mortenson, author of Three Cups of Tea, spoke at Gonzaga University last night. He spoke to a sold-out auditorium. I was surprised at the age span represented in the audience, from infants to individuals seemingly in their 80s. Mortenson just returned from Afghanistan, so his talk was affected by his jet lag. However, he still shared some touching stories and even more thought-provoking insights. I am impressed by the openness of this man's spirit. I know there are people all over the world who are making a big impact, but Mortenson was able to tap into the media outlet to expand his impact. Underlying his work is the message that "the pen is mightier than the sword." Education is the best way to fight the ignorance that breeds conflict and wars. I've been feeling somewhat discouraged about the field of education lately (especially in Idaho). Mortenson is such a strong advocate for education, and teachers, that I was reminded again why I chose this field.
March 28, 2011
No Soul in Sight
Prompt: Write about what you would do to entertain yourself if you did not see a soul for 7 days.
Day One, I think I'd be excited to be all on my own. No pressures, no worrying about making other people happy, no trying to juggle everyone's needs and schedules. I'd go hiking. All day. Allow the solitude to infiltrate my inner mind and remind me to embrace the stillness of quiet.
Day Two, I'd retrieve one of the leatherbound journals stored in my library and fill its blank pages with reflections I gained from my day spent outdoors. I'd drink chai tea and breathe in the smell of spices mixed with the scent of recyled paper and fresh ink.
Day Three, I'd head outside with a tote full of gardening tools and spend my time in the dirt. Barefoot and bare-handed, I would drink in the earth as I planted, hoed, weeded, and raked.
Day Four, I'd clean the house from top to bottom. I'd even polish the hickory cabinets. I would listen to music while I worked, every different style imaginable, and dance.
Day Five, I'd read the stack of books which has been tempting me for months.
Day Six, I'd bake five different kinds of cookies and deliver them to neighbors' doorsteps anonymously on my bike. In the afternoon I would make popcorn and watch an entire video series from start to finish.
Day Seven, I'd call a friend. I need human interaction!
Day One, I think I'd be excited to be all on my own. No pressures, no worrying about making other people happy, no trying to juggle everyone's needs and schedules. I'd go hiking. All day. Allow the solitude to infiltrate my inner mind and remind me to embrace the stillness of quiet.
Day Two, I'd retrieve one of the leatherbound journals stored in my library and fill its blank pages with reflections I gained from my day spent outdoors. I'd drink chai tea and breathe in the smell of spices mixed with the scent of recyled paper and fresh ink.
Day Three, I'd head outside with a tote full of gardening tools and spend my time in the dirt. Barefoot and bare-handed, I would drink in the earth as I planted, hoed, weeded, and raked.
Day Four, I'd clean the house from top to bottom. I'd even polish the hickory cabinets. I would listen to music while I worked, every different style imaginable, and dance.
Day Five, I'd read the stack of books which has been tempting me for months.
Day Six, I'd bake five different kinds of cookies and deliver them to neighbors' doorsteps anonymously on my bike. In the afternoon I would make popcorn and watch an entire video series from start to finish.
Day Seven, I'd call a friend. I need human interaction!
March 25, 2011
I Wish Someone Would've Told Me
I wish someone would've told me...
...that it's okay to fail. Failure shows that you at least tried. Maybe the failure comes as a blessing in disguise, because success might make you stop trying.
...that love is not easy. To maintain a true, long, and lasting love, you have to apply conscious effort.
...that love comes in endless forms. Why restrict it with your own expectations?
...to make healthy exercise a regular part of my life even when I was young. It would have been so much easier to continue a habit rather than continually try to start it.
...that it's okay to do the things you said you'd never do. People change. You change.
...that it's okay to fail. Failure shows that you at least tried. Maybe the failure comes as a blessing in disguise, because success might make you stop trying.
...that love is not easy. To maintain a true, long, and lasting love, you have to apply conscious effort.
...that love comes in endless forms. Why restrict it with your own expectations?
...to make healthy exercise a regular part of my life even when I was young. It would have been so much easier to continue a habit rather than continually try to start it.
...that it's okay to do the things you said you'd never do. People change. You change.
March 24, 2011
Service
It's probably clear by now that I have quite a few pet peeves. Bad drivers, paperwork,... I have another one to add to the list today: bad service. Can anyone tell me why a person who is horrible at service should be in a service position? I shouldn't have to feel guilty for asking a department store employee where to find an item, or a medical receptionist to make an appointment. Is it just my perception, or does service seem to be getting worse with time?
Enough venting, here's the "Pollyanna" side: I went for fastfood at a drive-through (which I hardly EVER do!), and the lady serving behind the window was incredibly cheerful and efficient. I watched her with the car in front of me, and was impressed by her personable manner. When I pulled up to her window, she acted as if I had just made her day. I'll probably never see that lady again, but I want her to know that she made MY day by her modeling the philosophy "service with a smile"!
Enough venting, here's the "Pollyanna" side: I went for fastfood at a drive-through (which I hardly EVER do!), and the lady serving behind the window was incredibly cheerful and efficient. I watched her with the car in front of me, and was impressed by her personable manner. When I pulled up to her window, she acted as if I had just made her day. I'll probably never see that lady again, but I want her to know that she made MY day by her modeling the philosophy "service with a smile"!
March 23, 2011
Educational Issues
The field of education is one I have chosen to enter. Sometimes I am thrilled about this decision, and at other times I am disheartened. Over spring break, I read several books to reawaken my enthusiasm for teaching. One of the books, "Letters to A Young Teacher," presented so many educational issues that I actually got more overwhelmed by reading it. I get too impassioned about high-stakes testing, political legislation, diversity, and resource allocation to take an objectively optimistic view toward teaching. At the same time, I wouldn't want to be objective because issues that matter in education require us to have opinions. Change doesn't come from lack of passion.
This semester, I've been growing frustrated with the jargon that seems to accompany my daily reading, writing, and discussing educational issues. I'll admit, I have employed educational jargon in my class papers because that's what our instructors often seem to look for. A few buzz words, and you can seem as if you know what you're talking about. But often I'm left thinking, is that what I wrote what I really know? Could I have eliminated all the "noise words" and just stated knowledge or ideas in simple, simple language? Educational author Jonathan Kozol says it best: "Teachers need to fight hard to take pride in their own voices too. The jargon factory in education is a very busy place and it will doubtless keep on churning out new words and phrases that are no less cumbersome, or lacking in substantial meaning, than the ones in use today. Defend the freshness of your voice. Defend its authenticity."
So to all of you whose writing I have had the privilege to experience this semester... thank you. You have each shown me what it means to defend the freshness and authenticity of your own voice.
This semester, I've been growing frustrated with the jargon that seems to accompany my daily reading, writing, and discussing educational issues. I'll admit, I have employed educational jargon in my class papers because that's what our instructors often seem to look for. A few buzz words, and you can seem as if you know what you're talking about. But often I'm left thinking, is that what I wrote what I really know? Could I have eliminated all the "noise words" and just stated knowledge or ideas in simple, simple language? Educational author Jonathan Kozol says it best: "Teachers need to fight hard to take pride in their own voices too. The jargon factory in education is a very busy place and it will doubtless keep on churning out new words and phrases that are no less cumbersome, or lacking in substantial meaning, than the ones in use today. Defend the freshness of your voice. Defend its authenticity."
So to all of you whose writing I have had the privilege to experience this semester... thank you. You have each shown me what it means to defend the freshness and authenticity of your own voice.
March 22, 2011
Hooky
Yesterday morning I woke up with all the motivation of a dormant turnip. After sitting at my laptop for two hours and accomplishing, well, nothing, I agreed to my husband's invitation of accompanying him to town. Yay, a chance to play hooky! It was so fun to just hang out with my best friend. Running errands in the pouring rain, we had lots of laughs, hugs, and "close time." I helped Scot pick out a new suit jacket, dress shirts, and dress shoes. And I have to say, men are SO EASY to shop for/with! It took him about 10 minutes to collect and purchase his spring wardrobe. What I would give to have that kind of shopping ability!
So this morning I'm having nearly as hard a time getting back to school... and I'm wondering, what can I do to get motivated? Even the highlighted deadlines on my calendar are doing little to prompt me to work. I just feel tired and like I don't care anymore, or at least not enough to continue investing days on end to my studies. It makes me wonder, how can I turn my experience with lack of motivation into a future advantage for my students? How can I show them how to hurdle over apathy and approach assignments with eagerness?
So this morning I'm having nearly as hard a time getting back to school... and I'm wondering, what can I do to get motivated? Even the highlighted deadlines on my calendar are doing little to prompt me to work. I just feel tired and like I don't care anymore, or at least not enough to continue investing days on end to my studies. It makes me wonder, how can I turn my experience with lack of motivation into a future advantage for my students? How can I show them how to hurdle over apathy and approach assignments with eagerness?
March 21, 2011
Signs of Spring
When I stepped outside this morning to retrieve the newspaper, a drizzly mist enveloped our house. But there, on the apex of our roof, appeared a robin. The first sign of spring! I am not a bird-lover, but the sight of robins in springtime is still so happily reassuring. Many of you have probably been experiencing the change of seasons already, but up here on our "mountain plateau," the snow sits stubbornly (sometimes until May). I was surprised to look out the kitchen windows early one morning last week to see daffodil bulbs peeking through the snow/ice. What resilient little beings! Every day during spring break I experienced the urge to do yardwork outside, but there's really not a whole lot I could do yet in the two-by-two-foot patch of bare earth. I am ready for the snow to be gone!
March 11, 2011
Ten Minutes
Today I don't feel like writing. I am tired of composing words in logical form for so many assignments. I'm going to set a timer for ten minutes and just write about what's in front of me...
A plant. A Norwegian folk pine, to be exact. It caught my eye in at Lowes during a Christmas shopping excursion. I like to have greenery around my house, so each room has a living, breathing thing. One of my kitchen plants is getting a little scrawny. I gave it a hug last night. Well, I was actually opening the kitchen window behind it, but gave the plant a "hug" in the process. Some cultures believe we are connected to all living things. Some people talk to and play music for their plants. I wonder if they can sense us.
An epoxy stone entryway. Epoxy stone is a more recent home style trend. I'm so glad our builder chose to use it for three of our home entryways. It is durable, and it never shows dirt. That reminds me, today was supposed to be my cleaning day. Oh well, maybe next week. There's never-ending job security in home cleaning.
A loft deck. Where Scot and I sat, before we were married, and pondered the question of having our own child someday. I don't know if I'm any closer to reaching a decision. I would prefer to keep an open heart and leave the rest up to God.
A patio set. On that table I hosted an early summer bruncheon for my mother one day, complete with candles, flowers, and all her favorite foods. I wish I could do so for her more often. Mothers need pampering every now and again, to feel as if they, too, are valued individuals who deserve special care and attention.
Trees. Snow. When will spring be here? It wasn't until this week, where the snow, sleet, and ice rain seemed to pour into every cell of my being, that I grew exhausted of winter.
A plant. A Norwegian folk pine, to be exact. It caught my eye in at Lowes during a Christmas shopping excursion. I like to have greenery around my house, so each room has a living, breathing thing. One of my kitchen plants is getting a little scrawny. I gave it a hug last night. Well, I was actually opening the kitchen window behind it, but gave the plant a "hug" in the process. Some cultures believe we are connected to all living things. Some people talk to and play music for their plants. I wonder if they can sense us.
An epoxy stone entryway. Epoxy stone is a more recent home style trend. I'm so glad our builder chose to use it for three of our home entryways. It is durable, and it never shows dirt. That reminds me, today was supposed to be my cleaning day. Oh well, maybe next week. There's never-ending job security in home cleaning.
A loft deck. Where Scot and I sat, before we were married, and pondered the question of having our own child someday. I don't know if I'm any closer to reaching a decision. I would prefer to keep an open heart and leave the rest up to God.
A patio set. On that table I hosted an early summer bruncheon for my mother one day, complete with candles, flowers, and all her favorite foods. I wish I could do so for her more often. Mothers need pampering every now and again, to feel as if they, too, are valued individuals who deserve special care and attention.
Trees. Snow. When will spring be here? It wasn't until this week, where the snow, sleet, and ice rain seemed to pour into every cell of my being, that I grew exhausted of winter.
March 10, 2011
Beginning A Book
“Elissa.“ Ice crystals glittered across my field of vision as I sucked in a deep breath and turned to Lloyd. The rising sun, still dim but creating shadows on the snow, gave his face an azure hue. “Elissa, you do realize that if you don’t move we are most likely going to die here?” I turned back to face the wall of winter on which we clung like water droplets on a stem. Leaning my forehead against that mass, I looked down, down between my stiff legs, shifting my eyes to each side. Thousands of feet of vertical drop lay beneath us. I took another deep breath and forced it out with an airy “poohew.” Pressure breathing. It was supposed to help retain energy. I needed every bit of energy possible.
Lloyd called my name again, this time more softly. “Elissa, don’t be scared.” I smiled. I wasn’t scared. I had every right to be, but I wasn’t. “I’m fine, Lloyd. I just can’t move.” There. That word: can’t. It echoed across the windswept headwall, curved up over frozen cornices, and slid back down ice falls to haunt the four mountaineers whose life depended on the ability to defy that word. After all, wasn’t it to prove the meaning of can that I had joined the Spokane Mountaineers? My mind raced back to a day, five months earlier…
And so my story begins. The events took place six years ago, but I never finished writing about them. My goal was to do so before this weekend, and publish the story into book form for my mountaineer husband's birthday on Monday. So much for that goal - I have been SWAMPED with homework. But still, in the back of my mind is that faint glimmer of hope, telling me this story is closer to being completed than ever before. And it now has a Part 2 - falling in love with and marrying the man who inspired me into mountain adventures six years ago. The universe has such an ironic sense of humor.
March 9, 2011
Snow Caving
Watch weather patterns and snow accumulation; determine the most appropriate destination for your adventure. Discuss gear and food considerations with your husband; make shopping lists; purchase necessary items. Assemble gear and prepare food. Cook a carb-rich dinner to load your body up with calories for the extra exertion. Attempt to get a good night's sleep knowing that tomorrow night you will not have the comfort of a bed or a thermostat.
Wake at 5-o'-dark; try to choke down a protein-rich breakfast to give your body something to burn for hours of activity. Load packs, snowshoes, trekking poles, dog bed, and dog into truck - oh, shoot, I forgot to get the tailgate fixed - hoist everything up over the locked tailgate. (Why is my pack so heavy?) Drive through dawn's light to a pass inMontana
Slip heat packs into your boots; strap on your gaiters, snowshoes, and pack. (Wow, my pack is still heavy!) Clip saddlebags on your dog; contain him while your mountaineering friends arrive and gear up. Grab your trekking poles; check the trail time; try not to trip on your snowshoes as your dog bounds up the trail connected to you by a leash. Ease into a steady pace; allow your pack to settle against your back. Breathe. (They say breathing is really important. So why is this pack so heavy?)
Now just walk. Or backpack, or snowshoe, or whatever you want to call this method of movement into the mountains. Don't engage in confrontation with the snowmobilers who have chosen your one marked hiking trail rather than their hundreds of marked snowmobiling trails to get into the Basin. Try to ignore their exhaust fumes which are making you nauseous as the trail gets steeper, their revving engines which are obliterating all other noises about you. (I could have stood out on the freeway if I wanted to breathe in exhaust and hear engines!)
Climb the last rise to reach the plateau tucked into the hillside. Stamp down enough snow to take off your pack, put on another layer, and rehydrate. Slip into your Gore-tex and assemble your shovel – it’s time to dig!
Four hours later, you have constructed a 6x6-foot sitting area and a 6x9-foot kitchen complete with benches for sitting, counters for cooking, and cubbyholes for storing gear. You have shoveled until your back is screaming and your abs are no longer willing to hold your body in an upright position. But there, in the side of the hill, is a four-foot tunnel leading into a spacious, circular cave – your home for the night. You crawl inside and peel off your sweat-soaked layers to change into dry clothes before hypothermia sets in, at the same time spreading out a tarp, sleep pads, and sleeping bags on the raised floor.
By this time, your incredible husband has arranged all the cooking gear in the kitchen and is boiling snow for hot cocoa and cup-o-noodle soup. (I never knew ramen could taste so good!) Your sister wants to go photograph everyone else’s snow caves, so you join her for a parade-of-homes tour in which you realize that everyone has a different method for constructing the ultimate home-in-the-snow. While you have fought your claustrophobia all day, you can’t help but notice when you return to your cave that the roof seems to be sinking where your dog walked on top during the early shoveling phase. (What was he thinking? Didn’t he know that the snow wasn’t set up yet? Why is he even up there? Didn’t I give him a rawhide to amuse himself with? Oh, that’s right – it was white, and the snow is white; so, we’ll never see it again.)
Dinner is amazing. The wind and cold have rendered your camp stove almost inoperative, but your husband has somehow coaxed it along to cook hamburgers on a miniature frying pan. (Thank goodness he likes this stuff – I would have stuck with granola bars and trail mix!)
You have packed in all the ingredients for an Oreo pie, which you assemble and let set up in the snow (instant refrigeration!). Your mountaineering friends come from their respective snow caves to your kitchen for a surprise birthday celebration. While there isn’t enough pie for you to have a piece, you’re pretty sure that it turned out from all the happy smiles on your friends’ faces. Relaxed, they begin to tell stories – stories of adventure, death-defying experiences, stories that convey our shared love for the outdoors. Snow flurries give way to a starry sky as you listen, trying to keep your extremities from freezing.
Bedtime. All right, this is where it gets fun. You have to trek into the woods to relieve yourself, making sure that you don’t fall into a tree well or freeze your butt off when you wrestle out of your seventeen layers. You are cold, tired, and grouchy by the time you get back to camp, but you still have to figure out your strategy for the night. Put on a dry base layer? Wear my down parka to bed? Hold my warmed water bottle against my coat or down by my feet? Forget it – just throw everything into your pack, stash your pack in the snow, and drop to your knees to crawl down the tunnel into the cave. (Brr, when did this snow turn to ice?) Oh, no, the worst as happened – where your dog walked earlier, the ceiling has sunk almost to the floor of the cave. There’s enough space for one or two people to sleep against the still-raised side, but the thought makes you so claustrophobic you have to back quickly out of the tunnel to breathe.
You decide along with your husband not to risk the cave falling in on you. So you have to pull all the sleeping pads and bags back out of the cave and arrange them in the pit of your kitchen. Your dog is scrambling up everything you lay down, and your trekking poles won’t grab enough snow to hold the bivvy sack you are trying to string out over your heads. Oh well, just hope it doesn’t snow on you in the middle of the night. (Didn’t they just get six inches here last night?)
One by one, you, your husband, and your sister slide into your sleeping bags. Toss and turn for about nineteen minutes until you find a semi-comfortable position where your sleeping pad is at least somewhat under you. Pull your sleeping bag tightly enough around your face that your nose won’t turn to ice but you won’t die of claustrophobia, either. (Oh, wow, those stars are beautiful!)
And then it begins. A restless night in which your dog decides he can not sleep on his own pad covered in blankets. He must walk across your head, attempt to get in your sleeping bag with you, run down your body, bite your feet, and turn three circles before he finally lays down between you and your husband. He pushes his legs out so you slide completely off your sleeping pad onto your sister. She groans. You try to sleep. Two hours later, the process repeats. Three hours later, your dog is running laps across all of your bodies and snuffling loudly. At 5 AM, you lie in quiet exhaustion as your husband struggles to quiet the dog who is now standing on your backside. (WHY did we ever decide to bring him with us?)
You don’t even want to smile when you finally get out of your sleeping bag at 6 AM and begin pulling on boots and gaiters frozen stiff with ice. Your husband feels miserable that you aren’t smiling, but you are just grouchy as can be at your dog. (Yeah, he’s just a puppy, but so what, doesn’t he know I need my sleep?)
And then, you look up. There is the most beautiful pinkish-golden glow curling across the mountains. The air is cold – 17 degrees – but crisp and gleaming with snow diamonds. Your husband is making coffee for you. You smile. You know that you will do this again, because this is who you are – a person who lives for adventure.
Wake at 5-o'-dark; try to choke down a protein-rich breakfast to give your body something to burn for hours of activity. Load packs, snowshoes, trekking poles, dog bed, and dog into truck - oh, shoot, I forgot to get the tailgate fixed - hoist everything up over the locked tailgate. (Why is my pack so heavy?) Drive through dawn's light to a pass in
Slip heat packs into your boots; strap on your gaiters, snowshoes, and pack. (Wow, my pack is still heavy!) Clip saddlebags on your dog; contain him while your mountaineering friends arrive and gear up. Grab your trekking poles; check the trail time; try not to trip on your snowshoes as your dog bounds up the trail connected to you by a leash. Ease into a steady pace; allow your pack to settle against your back. Breathe. (They say breathing is really important. So why is this pack so heavy?)
Now just walk. Or backpack, or snowshoe, or whatever you want to call this method of movement into the mountains. Don't engage in confrontation with the snowmobilers who have chosen your one marked hiking trail rather than their hundreds of marked snowmobiling trails to get into the Basin. Try to ignore their exhaust fumes which are making you nauseous as the trail gets steeper, their revving engines which are obliterating all other noises about you. (I could have stood out on the freeway if I wanted to breathe in exhaust and hear engines!)
Climb the last rise to reach the plateau tucked into the hillside. Stamp down enough snow to take off your pack, put on another layer, and rehydrate. Slip into your Gore-tex and assemble your shovel – it’s time to dig!
Four hours later, you have constructed a 6x6-foot sitting area and a 6x9-foot kitchen complete with benches for sitting, counters for cooking, and cubbyholes for storing gear. You have shoveled until your back is screaming and your abs are no longer willing to hold your body in an upright position. But there, in the side of the hill, is a four-foot tunnel leading into a spacious, circular cave – your home for the night. You crawl inside and peel off your sweat-soaked layers to change into dry clothes before hypothermia sets in, at the same time spreading out a tarp, sleep pads, and sleeping bags on the raised floor.
By this time, your incredible husband has arranged all the cooking gear in the kitchen and is boiling snow for hot cocoa and cup-o-noodle soup. (I never knew ramen could taste so good!) Your sister wants to go photograph everyone else’s snow caves, so you join her for a parade-of-homes tour in which you realize that everyone has a different method for constructing the ultimate home-in-the-snow. While you have fought your claustrophobia all day, you can’t help but notice when you return to your cave that the roof seems to be sinking where your dog walked on top during the early shoveling phase. (What was he thinking? Didn’t he know that the snow wasn’t set up yet? Why is he even up there? Didn’t I give him a rawhide to amuse himself with? Oh, that’s right – it was white, and the snow is white; so, we’ll never see it again.)
Dinner is amazing. The wind and cold have rendered your camp stove almost inoperative, but your husband has somehow coaxed it along to cook hamburgers on a miniature frying pan. (Thank goodness he likes this stuff – I would have stuck with granola bars and trail mix!)
You have packed in all the ingredients for an Oreo pie, which you assemble and let set up in the snow (instant refrigeration!). Your mountaineering friends come from their respective snow caves to your kitchen for a surprise birthday celebration. While there isn’t enough pie for you to have a piece, you’re pretty sure that it turned out from all the happy smiles on your friends’ faces. Relaxed, they begin to tell stories – stories of adventure, death-defying experiences, stories that convey our shared love for the outdoors. Snow flurries give way to a starry sky as you listen, trying to keep your extremities from freezing.
Bedtime. All right, this is where it gets fun. You have to trek into the woods to relieve yourself, making sure that you don’t fall into a tree well or freeze your butt off when you wrestle out of your seventeen layers. You are cold, tired, and grouchy by the time you get back to camp, but you still have to figure out your strategy for the night. Put on a dry base layer? Wear my down parka to bed? Hold my warmed water bottle against my coat or down by my feet? Forget it – just throw everything into your pack, stash your pack in the snow, and drop to your knees to crawl down the tunnel into the cave. (Brr, when did this snow turn to ice?) Oh, no, the worst as happened – where your dog walked earlier, the ceiling has sunk almost to the floor of the cave. There’s enough space for one or two people to sleep against the still-raised side, but the thought makes you so claustrophobic you have to back quickly out of the tunnel to breathe.
You decide along with your husband not to risk the cave falling in on you. So you have to pull all the sleeping pads and bags back out of the cave and arrange them in the pit of your kitchen. Your dog is scrambling up everything you lay down, and your trekking poles won’t grab enough snow to hold the bivvy sack you are trying to string out over your heads. Oh well, just hope it doesn’t snow on you in the middle of the night. (Didn’t they just get six inches here last night?)
One by one, you, your husband, and your sister slide into your sleeping bags. Toss and turn for about nineteen minutes until you find a semi-comfortable position where your sleeping pad is at least somewhat under you. Pull your sleeping bag tightly enough around your face that your nose won’t turn to ice but you won’t die of claustrophobia, either. (Oh, wow, those stars are beautiful!)
And then it begins. A restless night in which your dog decides he can not sleep on his own pad covered in blankets. He must walk across your head, attempt to get in your sleeping bag with you, run down your body, bite your feet, and turn three circles before he finally lays down between you and your husband. He pushes his legs out so you slide completely off your sleeping pad onto your sister. She groans. You try to sleep. Two hours later, the process repeats. Three hours later, your dog is running laps across all of your bodies and snuffling loudly. At 5 AM, you lie in quiet exhaustion as your husband struggles to quiet the dog who is now standing on your backside. (WHY did we ever decide to bring him with us?)
You don’t even want to smile when you finally get out of your sleeping bag at 6 AM and begin pulling on boots and gaiters frozen stiff with ice. Your husband feels miserable that you aren’t smiling, but you are just grouchy as can be at your dog. (Yeah, he’s just a puppy, but so what, doesn’t he know I need my sleep?)
And then, you look up. There is the most beautiful pinkish-golden glow curling across the mountains. The air is cold – 17 degrees – but crisp and gleaming with snow diamonds. Your husband is making coffee for you. You smile. You know that you will do this again, because this is who you are – a person who lives for adventure.
March 8, 2011
Take Joy in Writing
This week we are asked to reflect in our class discussion about our blogging/writing experiences over the past several weeks. A timely assignment, given the fact that I have also this week been attempting to complete writing a non-fiction book while reading Take Joy for Writers by Jane Yolen. I haven't gotten very far on either, but Yolen's advice is encouraging: "Uncovery, discovery, recovery are all part of that [process of writing]. So take the joy in the the process." Blogging consistently has helped me to uncover new truths about writing, discover that I have changed immensely from the last time I wrote on a consistent basis, and recover my love of writing. To be completely honest, I have been scared to write for the past few years. It used to be one of my favorite activities, but after a severe and long-lasting depression I felt unable to write. In a way, I think I was scared because writing makes me face my own mental processes, and as anyone who has dealt with depression knows, your mental processes can hurt you. I have been healthy and happy for some time now, but it wasn't until this class that I finally forced myself to start writing again. And I realized that it's okay - that I am okay. I may continue to struggle with things in my mind and reflect those struggles in my writing, but they won't defeat me. I have something more to believe in now. So once again, I can take joy in writing.
March 7, 2011
Generate Your Own Thoughts, Please
This morning's message from my leadership society was about core values. It motivated me to think about my core values, what they are and how they guide my life. One of those values is integrity. I still can't explain exactly why, but I feel so violated when I encounter plagiarism.
The first time someone copied one of my ideas, I thought it was just a coincidence. Maybe we thought alike. The second time someone took my words and made them his own, I gave him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he was just too tired to formulate his own words. The third time someone marketed my project as her own, I didn't know how to respond.
The incidents above actually occurred in my childhood. Returning to college for an elementary ed degree, I've learned that age is not necessarily an indicator of people's maturity or integrity. My academic work has been plagiarized a number of times. In one particular online course, a classmate copied my entire post, added a couple personal sentences, and re-posted it as her own. I can understand distance learning students coming up with similar reflections in response to assignments - it actually happens a lot - but the same exact words? Come on! It makes me wonder. Do these students like my work so much that they think they can't improve on it themselves? Have they been taught that it's okay to "borrow" other persons' ideas, as long as they don't get caught? Are they under the impression that they aren't accountable for their own cognitive processes? Are they just too lazy to think for themselves?
Yes, I'm on a soapbox. And yes, I am frustrated. Where I typically stick to myself and only impose my values/standards on myself, this is one area where I do see in black and white across the human spectrum. It's not okay to plagiarize. You can be inspired by someone's ideas, be inflamed by someone's ideas, quote another person or refer to their words or works; but don't steal the product of their time, energy, and thought and say it's yours. Just don't do it.
The first time someone copied one of my ideas, I thought it was just a coincidence. Maybe we thought alike. The second time someone took my words and made them his own, I gave him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he was just too tired to formulate his own words. The third time someone marketed my project as her own, I didn't know how to respond.
The incidents above actually occurred in my childhood. Returning to college for an elementary ed degree, I've learned that age is not necessarily an indicator of people's maturity or integrity. My academic work has been plagiarized a number of times. In one particular online course, a classmate copied my entire post, added a couple personal sentences, and re-posted it as her own. I can understand distance learning students coming up with similar reflections in response to assignments - it actually happens a lot - but the same exact words? Come on! It makes me wonder. Do these students like my work so much that they think they can't improve on it themselves? Have they been taught that it's okay to "borrow" other persons' ideas, as long as they don't get caught? Are they under the impression that they aren't accountable for their own cognitive processes? Are they just too lazy to think for themselves?
Yes, I'm on a soapbox. And yes, I am frustrated. Where I typically stick to myself and only impose my values/standards on myself, this is one area where I do see in black and white across the human spectrum. It's not okay to plagiarize. You can be inspired by someone's ideas, be inflamed by someone's ideas, quote another person or refer to their words or works; but don't steal the product of their time, energy, and thought and say it's yours. Just don't do it.
March 4, 2011
Sunshine
My doctor says I need more Vitamin D. Who doesn't? After all, this is North Idaho, where the sun only shines a few days out of our six-month-long winter! This morning I was scurrying all around trying to get ready for our weekend trip, plan out a town errand list, and finish up homework for the week. And then I noticed Kona sitting quietly in our entryway, doing nothing but feeling the sunshine pouring through the glass front door. I sat down next to him, just sat and felt the warmth of a none-too-common but oh-so-needed natural light. So calming. So good. Who says a dog can't teach humans?
March 3, 2011
Lost the Routine
I don't know what it was about being sick for two weeks, but I just can't get back into the swing of things. I had such a good routine going before I got sick -it was the best online semester yet. Maybe I need something to really shake me out of this blah state. Like a mountain climb? One of our mountaineering friends invited me to climb Mt. Hood in a couple weeks. I know I could do it, but I can also think of a hundred excuses not to. Maybe it's time to stop the excuses and look for some reasons why I SHOULD start doing more things. Oh, on that note, we're going snow caving this weekend. So when you're all snuggly and warm inside your homes think of us out in our shovel-carved hole in the snow. Yee-haw.
March 2, 2011
Brilliant Epiphanies
So... I don't know if it's the returned onslaught of wintry weather, or the typical "I'm-ready-for-spring-and-sunshine" blues, but I've been a little blah lately. Yesterday I had so much homework to do that I decided to take a nap. By 5:30 p.m. I decided I had worked (slept?) long enough, so I turned to other activities to make me feel more productive. And thus had some brilliant epiphanies that can only be experienced when going about the mundane routines in life...
#1) Cooking dinner: I love trying new foods! In my pantry was a package of Vietnamese spring roll wrappers from last year's visit to an Asian food mart in northern Virginia. And thus, my first attempt at making spring rolls! Served with steamed broccoli, meat patties, seaweed, and sesame rice crackers, they at least passed as a meal. But I think I would prefer learning to prepare ethnic dishes from members within their own culture...
#2) Washing dishes: I love unloading the dishwasher! Why is it so satisfying to put all the clean plates, bowls, glasses, silverware, and tupperware into their respective places around the kitchen? I wonder if it's because I so appreciate organization...
#3) Exercising: I love being sore! It means I've finally awoken those muscles which have attempted to remain hidden from motivation for so long. Pilates, even over three sessions, has built up enough soreness in my abs as to make laughing painful...
#4) Paperwork: I love organizing! Oh, so I guess that answers my wondering from Epiphany #2. Maybe I'll never actually DO everything on those lists I wrote out, but hey, at least they helped me FEEL ever so industrious. And I really like throwing things away - like all those receipts from purchases months and months ago...
#1) Cooking dinner: I love trying new foods! In my pantry was a package of Vietnamese spring roll wrappers from last year's visit to an Asian food mart in northern Virginia. And thus, my first attempt at making spring rolls! Served with steamed broccoli, meat patties, seaweed, and sesame rice crackers, they at least passed as a meal. But I think I would prefer learning to prepare ethnic dishes from members within their own culture...
#2) Washing dishes: I love unloading the dishwasher! Why is it so satisfying to put all the clean plates, bowls, glasses, silverware, and tupperware into their respective places around the kitchen? I wonder if it's because I so appreciate organization...
#3) Exercising: I love being sore! It means I've finally awoken those muscles which have attempted to remain hidden from motivation for so long. Pilates, even over three sessions, has built up enough soreness in my abs as to make laughing painful...
#4) Paperwork: I love organizing! Oh, so I guess that answers my wondering from Epiphany #2. Maybe I'll never actually DO everything on those lists I wrote out, but hey, at least they helped me FEEL ever so industrious. And I really like throwing things away - like all those receipts from purchases months and months ago...
March 1, 2011
Time
Wow, it's March. Already!? If my outdated and undone lists and schedules weren't enough to make me think it's still January, then this snow is. I could have a full-time job shoveling our porches and driveway!
Time management has been a big issue with me lately. I have never had such a hard time getting my schedule under control and getting everything I need to done. But between all the responsibilities, chores, and activities going on, I go to bed every night feeling as if I just didn't get enough done. Isn't strange how much of our obligatory stress is self-imposed? Do you ever wonder if you just did nothing, if the world would even notice?
Time management has been a big issue with me lately. I have never had such a hard time getting my schedule under control and getting everything I need to done. But between all the responsibilities, chores, and activities going on, I go to bed every night feeling as if I just didn't get enough done. Isn't strange how much of our obligatory stress is self-imposed? Do you ever wonder if you just did nothing, if the world would even notice?
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