Saturday, May 24, 2008

running.

This week I embarked upon my summer fitness mission - to get in shape. Sounds simple, right? And in theory it is. Wake up at 7:00, go run for half an hour, come back and get ready, go to work feeling healthy and refreshed. However, that does not take into account the immense amounts of motivation necessary to make myself roll out of bed at 7:00 am and go run.

I've done it, though. For 5 whole days. Go ahead...be proud of me.

Every morning I've taken off down the path behind my house, bathed in the soft light of morning. The air is still cool and fresh, untouched by the heat that will inevitably come later in the day. The path winds through the greenbelt, and I look at all of the backyards as I pass. Each one is a little glimpse into a life. Swing sets, swimming pools, hammocks, patio furniture, gardens, and dog toys all give a hint as to the lives encased in each of the small green areas. The shade from the trees and the houses falls across the path. The dappled sunlight that comes through the aspen leaves is my favorite. Not completely sunny, not completely shady - it's the perfect balance.

Every morning, right before I get to the main street I have to cross, I've passed power-walking lady. She wears a mint green sweatsuit every day, and a khaki bucket hat. The temperature doesn't seem to matter - every day is the mint green sweatsuit and the khaki bucket hat. She walks quickly. This is obviously not just a pleasure stroll for her, but a mission similar to mine. As we pass every morning I smile through the quick breaths caused by my lack of practice in the realm of exercise combined with the lack of oxygen in this very mountainous climate. Generally when you smile at someone you pass on the path, they return the favor. Not power-walking lady. No way. The response she gives me is a look of absolute disdain and disgust. Maybe she thinks I'm insane for running by choice. Maybe she's disturbed by how clearly out of shape I am. Or maybe I've disrupted her routine. Maybe I've interrupted her time of solitude and quiet before yet another day of chaos begins. And, honestly, I can respect that. So, while I won't stop smiling (to stop smiling simply isn't in my nature), I will try to keep our interactions brief and let power-walking lady enjoy the solitude and the peace of a quiet Colorado morning.

I cross the street and suddenly I'm in the midst of a beautiful area of open space. The Rockies are directly in front of me, and the gold morning light is illuminating what seems like every individual blade of grass and every leaf on every tree. The whispy white clouds of the morning are floating above the mountains. The world seems right at this moment. I come to the end of the path and approach Sarah. I've taken a cue from a dear friend, and I've begun to forge a friendship with this bench, planted here in the memory of Sarah. She has a small garden of flowers planted around her, and she sits on the top of a hill, facing the majestic mountains. The flowers aren't in bloom yet, and Sarah looks rather desolate. But as I approach her and take a moment to rest on her black metal slats, I'm amazed by the beauty that surrounds her. And right there, sitting on Sarah, still wheezing from a run that really shouldn't have been that hard for me, I feel at absolute peace.

After a few moments I stand and start back home. Another day of chaos is awaiting me, and I can avoid it no longer. But as I run back home, passing children walking to school and moms standing on the back porch waving goodbye, I know that tomorrow all of this will be here, waiting for me. The dappled sunlight, the abandoned toys in backyards, power-walking lady, Sarah, and that feeling of peace will be here for me. Maybe that's what keeps getting me out of bed at 7:00...

Saturday, May 17, 2008

mom.

Also...my mom asked me today if I'm depressed about being home. A legitimate question, to be sure. Her reason for asking, however? My hair was dirty.

Oh, silly parents....

how much i love them.

love.

I'm sitting in my rocking chair (a recent acquisition in my room) next to my wide open window, enjoying the first of many summer evenings to come. The last rays of the sun just disappeared behind the mountains, and now the sky is a canvas of varying shades of blue. The breeze coming in the window is blowing in scents of summer - freshly mowed grass, a neighbor's barbeque dinner, and the smell that I can't really describe - the smell that is Colorado. Clean and fresh and comfortable. I can hear the neighbors in the backyard, finishing up their dinner. My parents are downstairs talking, and somewhere in the neighborhood kids are playing a game of baseball. It's all so familiar and so comfortable.

Each house on my cul-de-sac houses a family. Obvious, I know. But take a moment and really think about that - each house is a network. All over the world there are people who know and love those inside each house. And maybe those networks will never cross. But they exist.

I remember when I flew back from home at the end of spring break this past semester, I was sitting on the plane when this idea struck me. To my right was a mid-thirties advertising executive from New Jersey whose main goal for the two hour flight was to get me to explain the "basic plot" of Moby Dick to him. (A big white whale bit of a guy's leg, now the guy is mad and is trying to kill the whale in revenge. Profound, I know). And to my left was the window. And as much as I tried to maintain focus out the window, Thomas won out every time. You see, as annoyed as I was with him, I just kept thinking about the person waiting to greet him. All the people so excited for him to be visiting. People who love him in California, and people who inevitably miss him in New Jersey. Just like I had people excited to see me in California and people missing me in Colorado. Maybe it should have been an honor for me to meet this man, Thomas, who had people loving and missing him all over the United States.

I wonder what it would look like if I always considered it an honor to meet someone new. If I always thought about how many people love and respect those I interact with every day, how different would those interactions look?

I'm not sure...I guess it's just another thing to think about.

I pray for you today, that you would see beautiful sunsets and skies of wondrous colors, and that you feel just as loved as you are.

Wednesday, May 14, 2008

home.

I have recently been inspired to start keeping a blog again. I don't know why I've had such a negative "blogging" connotation in my mind before. Perhaps it was the fact that friends of mine had online journals in high school that were closer to a Mean Girls status burn book than anything else...and I found myself the one being burned just a few times too many. Yeah...that's probably it! But I've come to realize that, as an adult, this is a place to reflect, to share, and to keep in contact with those I love. Not that I think my thoughts are overly important...but hey, what better place to share my mediocre thoughts then in the midst of the world wide web?!

So here I am...at "home." I use the phrase tentatively now, not because I don't consider this home anymore, but because it is one of multiple homes. It has taken me a while to get settled in. I've found myself longing for the sun-filled days of Santa Barbara, spent lounging with my best friends. Instead, I've been weathering the weather of Colorado with the company of my parents, my dog, and my overly-vocal cat. My two homes are so very different. Life in Santa Barbara is faster, more social, more stimulating. Life in Littleton is quiet, calm, solitary. Neither one is bad...they are just so very different. My challenge right now is learning to be content no matter where I am.

When I got home last week after a 19 hour drive with my mom, the rest of the summer stretched before me very much like the roads I had just travelled. At the outset they were incredibly daunting...the drive seemed that it would last forever. But now, only one week in, things are seeming much more manageable. I believe that, like the drive I just completed, this summer will be over much more quickly than I anticipate. As I lay here on my blue and yellow comforter, looking out the window past the newly budded aspen leaves towards the Rockies that burst out of the ground only about a mile from here, I am realizing that I am content. Today I have chosen joy in this place, and have allowed a small bit of peace to enter in.

I pray for you today - that you would find new green aspen buds, snow dusted mountains, and warm chocolate cake. And I pray for peace in the place where you are.