Yosemite Part 5:San Fran, Beach Camping, and Hoodlums, Oh my!!!

In honor of B & K's first anniversary, I thought I'd finally finish the last draft of our 2012 Yosemite trip. Yes, you read that right. I wrote this draft out two years ago, but for some reason just never got around to posting it.

The other night we were sitting around reminiscing in the soft light of the evening, and I remembered that I needed to finish this post--and this was an important one, because it's when I bonded with Katie, and knew she would someday marry my brother.

I snapped a few candid photos of them just in case my suspicions were correct--and they were. What can I say, older sisters usually are.

We finished off the last part of our trip by driving in to Oakland and San Francisco for the weekend. Brent wanted to see a friend get sealed in the Oakland temple and we thought it would be nice to spend a couple of days in the city before heading back home.

Friday we packed up our stuff in Yosemite and reluctantly drove away. It was such a beautiful place, it still tugs on my heart.

When we got into town, we spent a good chunk of the afternoon in San Francisco. We walked everywhere and this is what we saw:

Rainbow Fruit Stand

The view towards Alcatraz

Snuggling Sea Lions

Awesome Architecture

Customary Fog

This is such a fun and interesting city, I wish we would have had more time to explore it. We scarfed down some sour dough and clam chowder, sweetened the day with some Ghiradelli chocolate, and explored the streets on foot before the setting sun beckoned us back into a hotel room.

Saturday, we spent most of our time in Oakland celebrating with Brent's friends. That night we were trying to save money. I had this romantic idea in my head that camping on the beach would be super cool, so we started driving around trying to find a spot where it was legal. In the end we finally found a place near Pacifica to rest our weary heads. It wasn't my idea of a quiet, secluded beach but the fog was heavy and driving Hwy 1 was getting dangerous...oh yeah, and did I mention we were all exhausted?

We scampered out of the car to pitch our tents, set up our sleeping bags, and climb into bed. In my romanticized version, the ocean would gently lap at the sand some distance away, while we gazed up at the stars, and slowly drifted off to sleep.

In reality, the ocean was thunderously loud, the sand got everywhere, and the spray turned the walls of our tent into a soggy sheet. I started to worry that the tide would rise and sweep us all away. I kept sitting up and peeking outside the tent to gauge our relationship to the waves, only to see that I was just imagining things. Finally exhaustion trumped adrenaline and I talked myself down to a pretty chill place. That's when the hoodlums started arriving. I could hear a couple of drunk men, getting closer and closer until they nearly tripped over us! They stopped to inspect their find and we could hear them talking about us.

"What the F---- is that???"
Heart: POUND, POUND, POUND...
"Dude they're F%*&# tents!!"
Heart: POUND, POUND, POUND
"I almost tripped on em..."
Heart: POUND, POUND, POUND
"Yeah, dude. Me too."

It seemed like they stayed there forever, discussing our tents for the longest time. I was just waiting for one of them to collapse the poles, or jump on us, or something. Finally they walked off. I was scared to even breathe. I could hear car doors open and shut. I thought there was a car alarm. Were they ransacking our vehicle and stealing all our stuff?

Katie whispered: "Are you awake?"

"Yesssss!!!! I am soooo freaked out right now!!!"
"Me too!!"

Then we totally started busted up laughing at exactly the same moment....until the guys came back again,

and again,

and again.

I was just waiting for one of them to get drunk enough to do something really crazy. Finally Katie got up the nerve to look out our little tent window and she could see a campfire down the way with a bunch of people huddled around it. That was why there were so many people and why they were out so late. I finally drifted off to sleep but every time I heard another bunch of foot prints tripping in the sand I was instantly on high alert.

The morning view was rather beautiful though.

We went to church then started the long drive home.

I had the last shift of driving. and drove from Toole to Provo. Mother nature treated me to one of the most spectacular lightning storms of my life, for which I was grateful cause it helped keep my sleepy eyes from dozing. Everyone else was fast asleep. It was quiet and I was alone with my thoughts and the sky. What a beautiful adventure. What a lucky person am I.

Restoration of all things

I've been training for a half marathon, outside, since January. It has been inspiring to note the slow transition of winter back to spring as the temperatures creep up and the earth begins to unveil more and more of her rich colors.

Each week, I recognize a few more songbirds in the surrounding trees as various patches of green have been pushing their way up through the earth. Needless to say, I've been watching the slant of the sun start it's yearly trek to a more northern position in the sky with great anticipation.

Wanting to take advantage of the morning light, I went for a run last Saturday along the Spanish Fork River bottoms. It is one of my favorite places to be. Chickadees and Red-winged blackbirds trilled domestic nothings to their mates in the trees. I met a robin singing "Chir up, cheerily" for the first time this year. It was such a pleasant morning.

And then on top of it all, I could momentarily smell the spring air for the first time in 10 years.

For about a half mile I ran down the path between two opposing fields and all was quiet. No one else was around. The distant sound of a jet flying on the opposite end of the valley, and traffic from far away roads, were all muffled and separate from this place in time. It felt like a sacred moment. I savored every minute; breathing, remembering. It felt so impossibly good to fill my sinus cavity with air. To feel the space of it inside my head.

First, a hint of smoke from some burning weeds on an adjacent hill, thick and woodsy. Then the air; fresh and full of the month of March. I could smell the wind! When I was a child, I sometimes noticed it, trailing its way in on our cat when she'd streak inside from her outdoor adventures. 

It was magnificent. Each distinct smell was like another gift, an impossible secret full of surprise. Something I was privy to as an experience disjointed from the every day. I began to count each burst of recognition: the earthy richness of broken dirt, black willows and cottonwood trees next to the river. It was enthralling.

I couldn't help but think about all of the people who currently live, or have lived with some sort of physical limitation. Many who carefully tuck the weight of it away from the world and press forward in every way they can. I thought of those who struggle with mental or emotional burdens, of ALL OF US in our varied humanity that seek for hope and healing in very specific ways.

There in the middle of this field that was beginning to birth another season of Spring, these words from Alma came to mind "The soul shall be restored to the body, and the body to the soul; yea, and every limb and joint shall be restored to its body; yea, even a hair of the head shall not be lost; but all things shall be restored to their proper and perfect frame."

Even the hair on their heads! I don't know why that seems so surprising when I see evidence of it displayed on the earth year after year. I'm constantly reminded that the details are remembered and measured by God--details important to us.

Matthew tells us in the New Testament that the Son of God is come "to save that which was lost." I believe this encompasses the little things like my lost sense of smell, all the way up to more complicated things like estranged relationships, broken dreams, death, and my own lost soul.

In this simple moment I felt so much joy in just being able to smell. I started to imagine what it would be like to see everyone I love with a perfect body. To be able to communicate and interact with each other from a place of wholeness and without separation. I thought of my cousin, Garth, who's complete personality and intellect were veiled behind the cloak of Autism. I can't wait to hear the jokes he's been bursting to tell. It will be a reality someday. It is another impossible gift that really moves me to humility.

Though I struggle to communicate my feelings for the Savior with any profound insight, I know he lives. I've felt his love for me and his help in my progress to do every good thing. He is the reason we can experience joy, now and in the future; the reason we can have life and find it more abundantly. I love him. I want to know him better. For this I celebrate today and always.

Tradition

Recently I celebrated another birthday. For the last couple of years I have gone for a winter hike on my big day. You could say it has become tradition. Winter hikes are rather:

Simple
Exquisite
Bright
Crisp
Quiet
Hidden
Magical
Refreshing
Surprising
Devoid of Color
& Full of Color

All at the same time

It is a good way for me to connect with the land, tap into my heart, and forge a new path forward. It always leaves me feeling hopeful and whole.

Trees stand naked and vulnerable, the land cloaked by snow. And soon I begin to see things differently. It lends itself well to thought and reflection. These are some of my thoughts expressed through images. I hope you enjoy the journey as much as I did...

Hanging on.

                               Looking Back & Moving Forward

 

Hidden Tree house

 

 

Sunshine & Shadows

A seed of hope.
Delicate,

Resilient.

 

 

 

Seedlings casting magic in the sunlight

 

 

Evidence of the Fall

Patterns in an old stump                                                 Seeds, Light, & Branches

 

Familiar Peaks

& Valleys

 

Looking afar off

 

Finding beauty in the Details

 

 

Water Dragon

 

 

 

Love Notes in the snow...

 

from the woman who gave me life

Lessons on Humanity

This is my brother, Bryan. He recently moved to The Big Apple and though we still chat on the phone fairly often, my heart misses him a lot.

He's the kind of guy you can call if:

You want to create something out of wood.
Your computer just crashed.
You need to philosophize.
Your Piano needs tuning or rebuilding.
You're dying to tell someone about THAT awkward moment you just had...and come away laughing about it.
You're looking for some new artwork for your wall.
You've got a hankering for some delicious Thai Food / home pressed apple juice / or any other delectable not-your-every-day-tidbit.

He's the kid that will unabashedly jump into a couch full of people just to snuggle.
Go for a hike at a moment's notice.
Was once prepared to defend his sis with a rock (funny story!).
And has been a true friend for as long as I've known him.

The week before Bryan left for New York, I had an emergency need to shop at H&M. Being the awesome brother that he is, he agreed to be my "wing man." He was short on time so we ended up leaving at 7:45 p.m. to shop at a store that closes at 9:00. For those that are not familiar with the distance from Provo to Salt Lake, that left us about 30 minutes to shop. No worries though, we both inherited the gene to shop fast.

But, it was the drive up there that was truly amazing. First, we had a good long chat about people, and the judgments we sometimes make. We talked about motivations for different behavior and the beautiful mess of interpersonal relationships. It was a good chat. The sunset was beautiful.

It was a nice way to end the summer.

And then, just as we were getting off the freeway, we shared a moment that reminded me of the true caliber of his soul. There was a homeless man standing on the side of the road. He did not look at us, he just held his shabby sign as he looked at the ground in defeat. At first, I wanted to pretend that he wasn't there, like I often do when I don't know how to help.

All the words I've heard about not giving money to the homeless "cause they'll turn around and buy drugs, or they might be a fake, or this excuse or that excuse" started rolling through my head like a playlist on repeat. Then a car full of guys (who frankly looked a bit rough themselves) honked and waved some cash out the window. That made me question if there was something I could do and should do.

I remembered I had a $1 bill in my wallet. I was a little embarrassed to hand over such a small token but, something urged me to do it anyway. I gave the bill to Bryan and asked him to motion to the man. Bryan rolled down his window and got the man's attention. As he came up to our car Bryan held out the money and this magic little moment happened, he held out his hand. He wanted to shake the homeless man's hand. Without a hint of condescension he said,

"Good luck to you, man."

And the man, a little surprised by this show of humanity, stumbled over his words as he said

"Good luck to you, too." 

It was a rather short exchange, something rather simple. The man walked back to his post and as he turned around to face us, the true magnitude of the moment was evident. Tears were forming on the homeless man's cheeks. His eyes looked away in that familiar pattern that we all use when we don't want someone to know we're crying. It touched me so deeply, watching this grown-rugged-ragged man cry. I haven't been able to forget about it since. We didn't give much, but Bryan gave him his heart. He was able to connect with his humanity.

And how many of us just need that 

once in a while?    

I've thought about this a lot. It makes me want to give better. Not just give, but to give in a manner that reaches true needs. To stop judging whether someone deserves my help and just do what I can to lighten their load.

Thanks for the lesson, Bribbs, you've got great things ahead of you!  

Roomies

I'm getting a new roommate! She's cuddly and cute and only eight weeks old. In this picture her eyes look blue but they are starting to turn green now. I think she knows she's mine because she is the only one out of the litter that will cuddle with me for a little while. Isn't she adorable? Her fur looks black in this picture but it is really more of a dark brown. I'm thinking of naming her MJ, short for Mahogany Jane. What do you think?

Change

Change is a coming. I can feel it. Good things. Hopeful things. Today I came across this quote and I believe it sums things up so well:

When we are no longer able to change a situation - we are challenged to change ourselves.

~Viktor E. Frankl 

Oh yes, Mr. Frankl, you have spoken to me again! I hope I am equal to the task, because staying where I'm at not longer suits me well.

Prayer Walks

Last evening, while taking out the trash, the breezy air beckoned me to go for a walk. I was feeling a little tired and it was already starting to get late but I just couldn't put it off. I'm glad I didn't. The air was the perfect temperature; the exhaled breath of a passing thunderstorm. The breeze was mild, stirring the grasses and weeds that surround my home. The fields were a vibrant green, wildflowers popping up all over, and the trees have recently sprung with their newborn wrinkly leaves. It was one of those nights I wish I could bottle up and save for another day. There was something about it that was needful for my spirit.

One of my favorite lines from the Adam & Eve story, in Genesis, says: "And they heard the voice of the Lord God walking in the garden in the cool of the day." I love that image so much--God walking in the cool of the day--perhaps because I'm glad we have that in common. Nothing quite invokes the same satisfied feeling as an evening walk in the summer. I always feel like I'm breathing in a hint of magic, or promise, or maybe just a whole lot of gratitude to live, and breathe, and experience such lovely moments in time.

  

So last night I walked, and God joined me, and I felt my spirit expand; like it always does when I'm being most real. We talked about ALL of the things I found beautiful, ALL of my gratitude, my hopes for the summer, the person I am still becoming, a few fears, and some of my pain. But mostly, I just felt my heart swell for all He has given me. It was a sacred moment. Walking with God always is.

Once again I was reminded of two things:

1. I need wild places.

There is something about the natural world that encourages me to dig out the best that is in me. It grounds me and helps me sift out what is most important. I need this, and if I go for too long without spending some time really seeing, or experiencing, the natural world, I feel like part of me is missing.

2. God knows what I need.

When I bought my house I had no idea I lived so close to such a beautiful, wild, spot of land, but He sure did! There is a marsh about a half mile away where I can hear the frogs sing (which is one of the things I miss most about my last neighborhood), and last summer I was able to see fireflies in a field near this curling tail of a river. Fireflies! In Spanish Fork! For all of the things that are hard in my life there is still a WHOLE LOT of goodness and mercy. And that my friends is what makes the journey so very worth it.