questionable realities

My dreams have been incredibly vivid lately. Not lucid, by any means, but there are points of consciousness in many of them - when I can feel the wind around my face as I jump from air, I feel the softness of the feathers on a woman's white coat, or the heat from a meteor (meteoroid? meteorite?) looming over head. Each time, aspects of the dream are so real, that I'm absolutely sure that I'm actually experiencing it. In these dreams, I even remember asking myself if I'm dreaming. I've never had dreams like this, but I'm not having them nearly every night.

I wake up, questioning reality.

I had another crazy dream! I woke up, terrified and calling out for Adam who was gaming in the living room.

The dream itself was very long, and as hard as I tried to remember it all, I've since forgotten most of it (i need to start writing these down right away!) But I was sitting on the floor while my mom and a friend from high school were sitting on the couch behind me. my mom got a text message and I read it. She must have been on some Obama automatic text thing, because it was a mass-text from Obama warning everyone about the meteor that was about to hit the earth. In a panic, I showed my mom. We turned on the television and their were reports about the meteor coming closer to the earth, details of how the giant rock would briefly get caught in earth's orbit before crashing down onto the planet. 

Looking out the window, we could see it nearing. The last thing I remember was staring up at the sky, watching it get closer. Just before i woke up, the only thing I could see was this giant, flaming rock (looking similar to the sun) directly above me. I just waited for impact.

And then when I was certain this was the end and a new journey was about to begin, I woke up.

bi boon & manidoo giizis

Winter is officially here, although the big mountains of snow lining parking lots and streets tell me that it's been here for a while. Remembering what Bob Shimek of White Earth Land Recovery Project told us a few months ago, I'm trying to be thankful and appreciative of the weather - no matter how much it inconveniences me in the things I don't want to do anyways. He told the story of Kabibona'kan, the winter maker. He cautioned against feeling disdain for the cold, the snow, and the wind in the winter, likening our attitude towards the way a small child may be treated and made fun of at school - often these children develop feels of embarrassment, discontent, and even hate after years of being treated that way. Kabibona'kan is no different. Instead, we should recognize winter's art - the beauty of swirling and freezing snow, the glistening of snowflakes as they fall. After all, it's not easy to muster such strength all season.

There has been much snow and I have not been enjoying and appreciating it as much as I should have; in fact, I have not been enjoying and appreciating anything like I should be. I'm working towards changing that. I still feel as though I'm at a roadblock. I waste too much time doing nothing, but what do I really want to be doing? How should I be spending my days? This cold and darkness comes every year; I must stop using it as an excuse to hide away inside.

The sun was shining today. Encouraged by it's brilliance, I went for a walk, watching the chickadees, house sparrows, and cardinals fly and call in the park. Looking up, what really caught my eye were the whirly-copters from the maple trees. Near translucent against the blue sky. Big boots on, I climbed in the snow to take some pictures.

winter self-portrait

hecua es class portrait 2010

A mind full of questions, and a teacher in my soul. And so it goes...

HECUA Final Presentation

A large part of that head-spinning feeling may likely come from our final class presentation next week.

On that note - You're Invited! 

concentration

I can't seem to concentrate - on anything, for any length of time. It's as though I'm watching each individual synapse burst forth in my brain. My head feels to heavy, making me too tired to do anything of real value. I feel so overwhelmed, but unsatisfied; as though I'm on the edge of something great that I just can't hold on to. 

Needing time to decompress on my own, I rarely get more than a few minutes, especially now that Adam's out of a job and home all the time. I'd rather be outside, anyways. The thermometer is barely reading the double digits right now though and I'm unwilling to lose an extremity for peace of mind.

I crave silence, real silence. It seems every brief moment is soon interrupted by a passing car or a cough from across the room. 

Lost Springs, Wyoming doesn't sound too bad right now.

pictures from sunday night

I recently cut my own hair and accidently dyed it black. Or it was black, until it started to wash out (which is impressive, because I hardly wash my hair).

So that's that. Looking at these pictures, I can't help but wonder how I got so old. I'll be 22 soon. A grown-up! Wow.

I apologize;

I've just been so tired and uninspired lately.

You don't need anyone to hold your hand

X-Posted from RoadJunky:

Travel should be a rite of passage, a sacred journey, a vision quest. It’s about leaving behind the cloying emotional support system of family and friends and learning to stand on your own two feet. Then, later on, you’ll be able to support others in their time of need.

Although we do our best to deny it, filling all our quiet moments with Messenger updates and shuffled tracks on the Ipod, life itself is actually pretty scary. It’s a blank slate for you to make what you will of it and no where is that more true than when you travel. You could get lost or injured, you might get married or change religion. You might even die: the greatest journey of all and one which is almost certainly a solo trip.

You can only find yourself on your own terms and that’s why just about everyone should leave home and head out on the road for a year. Your prejudices and values will be challenged, you’ll have to get by on your wits and find out who you really are.

Read the entire article here.

i would go out tonight but...

I just downloaded the entire discography of the Smiths. One of those days, weeks, months, I suppose. There's snow on the ground, and while I'm not hating it as much as I had thought, I'm still anxious to get on the road. The plan is for California in January, but there's a lot standing in my way between then and now - papers, final presentations, reports, Thanksgiving, Christmas, lots of work to save some money.
Meanwhile, I'm stuck. I have all these photos I love and want to do something with, showcase in some way, but I've come up with nothing meaningful, no way for them to really be seen. So they sit, idle on my computer, taking up unnecessary space; truth be told I haven't even really looked at the most recent taken @Fort Snelling State Park.
A lack of creativity has me stuck in place. Or maybe being stuck in place is causing a lack of creativity. I watched Into the Wild and cried, wishing I was out west running around on my own. 

what i hope to do with mine

I don't think that taking pictures - good, compelling, beautiful pictures - requires much talent. Rather, it requires an eye and good, compelling, beautiful natural scenery. We are blessed with an abundance.

Recently coming across a group who's mission statement I could not agree more with -  

Our mission is to further environmental and cultural conservation through ethical photography.  We believe that awe-inspiring photography is a powerful force for the environment, especially when paired with the collaboration of committed scientists, politicians, religious leaders and policy makers. We plan to replace environmental indifference with a new culture of stewardship and passion for our beautiful planet.

            -International League of Conservation Photographers

postscript. i have a million thoughts running through my head, but no current way to articulate them. 

also, many pictures to post.

sweetland

A Brotherhood of Man

Imagine there's no Heaven
It's easy if you try
No hell below us
Above us only sky
Imagine all the people
Living for today

Imagine there's no countries
It isn't hard to do
Nothing to kill or die for
And no religion too
Imagine all the people
Living life in peace

You may say that I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will be as one

Imagine no possessions
I wonder if you can
No need for greed or hunger
A brotherhood of man
Imagine all the people
Sharing all the world

You may say that I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will live as one 

Off the Grid: Life on the Mesa

Drained from school, work, and being social all week, I curled up on the couch last night looking to zone out on some science/environmental documentaries to watch. I stumbled upon this list: Ten Environmental Films you Can Watch Online. 

I just finished watching Off the Grid: Life on the Mesa. Assuming it would be a film about some sand-hippies living in a ecovillage in New Mexico, I was convinced otherwise within the first minute of the film.

There's a trailer on YouTube, but I don't recommend watching it - it paints the inhabitants of the community as crazy, violent dirtbags. Instead, it's an interesting take on community and freedom. In one part of the film, a group of runaway teens began stealing from the community. Instead of calling the cops or responding with violence, a council with the teens and elders of the community meet to discuss ramifications. The film also touches on love, water resources, drug-use, post-traumatic stress, guns, and living off the land. A little over an hour long, I highly recommend checking it out. 

nomadic tendencies

A couple of months ago, on the heels of our last road trip, I was already getting the urge to go again. This idea of sticking put is irking to me - I simply feel like I'm missing too much by staying in place. Instead, I wish to sell all of my STUFF, horde the books and trinkets that I love at my mothers, and pack the rest in the car and GO. This time though, instead of leaving for a couple of weeks or a month with half the trip focused on getting home, I want to go back to my nomadic tendencies.

When that word - nomad - hit me, I felt like a genius. I'm going back to my roots, my ancient roots. I would become a new nomad like no other!

Except there are others. Lots of others. With lots of websites devoted to the idea of the New Nomad - a term I sadly did not invent. Many sites, like Nu Nomad, Laptop Hobo, and Business Backpacker focus on ways you can take your business, forcing you to rely on technology and wi-fi access to continue to support yourself. Photographers, travel writers, and bloggers are all technology-dependent travelers. There are also people who have terribly boring-sounding jobs like "database consulting,"  "affiliate marketing," and "freelance translation of technical documents"

And that's not a bad thing. However, I dream of a much more fluid lifestyle. Staying around for more than a day or two and seeing more than just the Golden Gate Bridge, Central Park, or Disney World. I want the freedom to come and go as I please. Work to feed and shelter myself and have the rest of my time as my own. This seems a harder ideal to maintain, albeit not impossible.

Couch Surfing: Connecting travelers with, duh, couches.
WWOOFing: Volunteer opportunities on organic farms around the world, in exchange for room&board
HelpX: Similar to WWOOFing, although the opportunities are more varied.

Other interesting sites worth checking out
Vagabondish
Nomadic Matt
Matador Network
Thrilling Heroics

And for the ladies
Do It While You're Young
Wanderlust and Lipstick

reliving the past

speaking of daydreaming.

 remembering being sixteen, staying up too late,
daydreaming even then.

oceanfront sunshine

&on the flipside, this is what I daydream about everyday.

 feets near the water, covered in sand

surrounded by blue skies, blue waters and palm trees.

&if memory (see: images) serves correctly, 

southern california made me so terribly happy

frozen

I think I've always been cold. Not emotionally (although ex-boyfriends could argue that, as well), but rather physically, literally cold. As the leaves fall, I remember. In the winter, walking the frozen streets, I fear I will never know real, true, all-body warmth again. Even once inside, wrapped in a blanket and drinking hot cider the cold permeates my bones.

I feel it, too, in the summer. It's then when I know it must be true. Riding down University Avenue in the blistering sun, temperatures reaching far past 90. Sweat dripping down my back, a breeze brought on by a passing truck brings chills throughout me. Immediately I recognize the cold, the pain, the unbearable desire to just be warm.

corn&soybeans

Also spent sometime on the land, with corn and soybeans.

flooded waters

Spent a couple of days on the Minnesota and Redwood Rivers. 

Heavy rain has fallen in the past week and both rivers were at high water.

Undoubtedly tragic for residents of river towns, but I smile crossing over bridges nearly underwater, looking over waterfalls roaring down. 

Our mother's lifeblood is flowing wild.

Minnesota River

Redwood River

unexpected flowers on the wayside

within things

there is peace, and at the end

of things. It is the mind

turned away from the world

that turns against it.

Wendell Berry

the power of photography

Helianthus

, 

When I'm dead and buried back into the earth, 

skin touching soil instead of polymer,

I hope the sun, rain, and worms expedite the process of decomposition.

Buried in the late October ground, 

I'll be always basking once again in the suns rays by early August

Barefoot, blonde, and visited by bees.

keep this in mind

I stumbled upon this website today: Thought Questions

 

One I have been struggling to answer lately: 

 

I catch glimpses of an answer here and there, and I can recall it in memories. But the answer most lies on the west coast, amongst trees and the ocean, with Adam.

the end of my love affair with a pluot

in the garden, surrounded by bees

we need to sing with all the voices of the mtn

O , Great Spirit
Whose voice I hear in the winds,
And whose breath gives life to all the
World,Hear me, I am small and weak,
I need your strength and wisdom.

Let me walk in Beauty, and make my
Eyes ever behold the red and purple
Sunset.

Make my hands respect the things I
Have made and my ears be sharp to
hear your voice.

Make me wise that I may understand the
things you have taught my people.

Let me learn the lessons you have hidden
in every leaf and rock.

I seek strength, not to be greater then my
Brother or sister, but fight my greatest
Enemy--- Myself.

Make me always ready to come to you with
clean hands and straight eyes.

So when life fades, as the fading sunset, my
spirit may come to you without shame.

carbon copies

In January, Adam and I went on a road trip, hopefully the first of many. We spent about a day and a half in Texas visiting an old friend of mine in Arlington. We drove south into the Dallas-Fort Worth area in the evening, not arriving until near-midnight. The next morning we got breakfast and headed out west to climb around on some fake dinosaurs. I remember seeing cactus for the first time on our trip, and insisting that I take a picture of it, although I'm not sure why exactly. We would soon be heading west into New Mexico and Arizona where there was sure to be plenty of the prickly stuff. Hell, we even have cactus in Minnesota and it is just as sharp and just as prickly and hurts just as bad when it sneaks up into your shoe.

Remembering that this morning, I remember thinking during that trip and especially during our last trip that every town we were in reminded me of the last town, reminded me of home. Now, nature did a good job of providing a different palette, but when it came to towns and cities, the color scheme was all a dull hue of Targets and McDonalds and Starbucks and Home Depot and Little Caesars and Walmart and.... I was disappointed by the lack of character we've induced.

This really hit me for the first time at the outskirts of Los Angeles. Well, duh, right? In January, we stayed a few nights in Oceanside, California, a homey little beach town famous for their long wooden pier leading out into the waves filled with surfboards. Beach houses and condos lined the surf, but even those were appealing to us. The streets were lined with local shops, restaurants and stores, and a bustling farmers market. While there were quite a few people on the beach, I didn't understand how 179,681 people could live in this small little area.

In May when we were out, we needed some camping supplies for cheap and, not finding anything by the beach, we gave in and looked for the nearest walmart. There were three, all within a five-mile radius of each other. Getting away from the sun and surf there was this whole bustling city that suddenly looked like any Minneapolis suburb. I don't know why I was surprised, but my heart was immediately broken.

How I've been feeling, minus the dying part.

"An awakening conscience, unaccompanied by new wisdom, made his life so damn lonely, he decided he wouldn't mind being dead."

Sky Watching

Adam, Kat, and I went out, away from the city lights, to my dad's cabin in northern Wisconsin. We had heard of extreme solar flares that were supposed to hit our magnetic poles, spashing the aurouras across the skies.

Unfortunately, we saw no greens, blues, or reds. However, I did snap a couple of shots of the sky. Not bad without a tripod.

Saint Paul, as viewed from Indian Mounds Park

 

While brilliant purple and yellow wildflowers (I say wild, although they were undoubtedly meticulously planned by the city's Park and Rec dept.) line the sidewalks and grace the rolling hills at Indian Mounds Park along the Mississippi River in St. Paul, the six large mounds in the middle of the park remained well groomed.

Before the mid-1850's, there were 37 mounds in the area. It's believed that several different groups of indigenous people have used them over the years as a final resting place for their dead. Several mounds were thought to be upwards of 2000 years old. This tradition could have been continued, but it wasn't even respected. Several mounds were destroyed, as well as a spiritual cave, to make way for the railroad along the river. In 1896, the city of St. Paul decided to make improvement to the area and turn it into a park. During this process of "landscaping" and grading out the area, eleven more mounds were destroyed.

Sitting on the edge of the park, with two large mounds to my right I stared down at the river, marveling at where I was, what this location now is, and what it used to be.

At the very least, I find peace in the fact that, for thousands of years, others have found a special connection to this waterway.

i write like

I write like
Jack London

I Write Like by Mémoires, Mac journal software. Analyze your writing!

Downtown

Moving from Minneapolis to St. Paul, it's wierd to differentiate "Downtown." Now, of course, when I tell Adam I'm heading downtown I refer to somewhere around Kellogg and Wabasha, rather than Hennepin and Nicollet.

Today I rode downtown on my bicycle in an urge to be close to the river.

Playing around with my glasses, the skyline, and some water drops