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I love you always forever

4/6/2019

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I am trying so hard to focus on the calming green floral pattern and to take deep breaths of the lavender that’s wafting from it. I feel like a Victorian era lady carrying around a bag of herbs to cover up her scent and it is starting to get nauseating. It’s not working anymore. I finally have enough breath to speak, yelling to Mike to, “Get this thing outta my face!” My body tenses again, I’m hoping gravity takes over but it doesn’t...another breath relieves me and I yell “Okay, it’s time...get the forceps!” Mike busts out into a laugh and I do too, I am reminded I’m still in my body. 


A nurse steps in and shifts my position. She has been with me since I got to the hospital and knows exactly what I need. 


In fact, she told the entire Labor & Delivery unit what I needed before I even arrived. 


Childbirth and pregnancy are unpredictable. There is absolutely no telling what you are in for when you commit to them.


I ventured into them in the best shape of my life, a good state of mind and in a healthy marriage. The pure excitement was exhilarating, the ultimate adventure I thought! So to my surprise, at my first ultrasound when the midwife said, “I hate to bring this up, but we have to talk about it!” I was shocked. 


Just like pregnant women and life experiences, trauma comes in all shapes and sizes. It is unpredictable and there is no telling how it will affect you through your life, no matter how many punctuation marks you have put on that time or event. Whether its previous birth trauma, hospital stays, abuse, sexual assault, pregnancy and labor can be the ultimate trigger. 


She hands me a flyer on the services offered at the hospital that I shove to the back of the folder and I continue on to have a great pregnancy. 


It was not until around 9 months that my anxiety really escalated when I started to see ads for labor robes. 


What was I going to wear to labor? This was something that had not crossed my mind...but as I thought more about it, the pure terror of wearing a hospital gown really set in. 


Wow I thought, that’s not normal, but tried to push it away. 


I started to lay awake at night thinking about ways to not have my baby at the hospital. What if my provider isn’t the one to deliver my baby?! Maybe I should just change providers all together and go to the birth center. 


I was just slow diving back into a riptide that I spent years trying to get out of. 


Finally, when I accepted I needed help, I went deep into the folder and got the pamphlet from my first visit with the midwife. 


Mission Hospital here in Asheville is designated a “Baby Friendly Hospital”, the first in the US, which by the way, is the most dangerous developed country to give birth in! 


To be classified as baby friendly, you must meet extraordinary standards for labor and postpartum care. A (healthy) baby goes directly skin to skin for an undisturbed hour before any type of test or weight is taken. It is protocol to wait 90 seconds before the cord is clamped and cut, if not until it stops pulsing. A baby who is born via C-section goes skin to skin and can be vaginally seeded upon request. They do not wash the vernix from the babies skin, lactation consultants come by your room…etc. 


But most importantly, Mission Hospital offers a program called, Survivor Services. 


Women are encouraged by multiple outlets within the community to utilize Survivor Services for a variety of reasons. You have an initial consultation with a nurse in a labor room and create a birth plan to have on file at the hospital. You discuss possible triggers and how the hospital staff can respect your past trauma while still responsibly caring for you. You state your preferences, your pain management plan, discuss solutions to problems that may arise and why those solutions may be appropriate. 


The goal is to set you up for a birth experience that does not tier your trauma while keeping both you and your baby healthy. 


I set up my appointment hoping it would provide me with some relief knowing that I would not have to advocate for myself in the depths of labor since I chose not to have a doula. 


That my voice would be heard.


The initial consultation was a flood of emotions. The nurse Katie understood, verbalizing all the unexplained fears I was experiencing. Noting that wearing a hospital gown is one of the most noted triggers for many women. 


She was able to help me explain my anxieties to Mike in a coherent way and she was able to suggest ways for him to help in the depths of my labor outside of normal partner support. 


Techniques taught both in a labor class and by her about utilizing code words if something was getting to be too much or someone was making me feel uncomfortable. 


Just the exercise of sitting in the hospital helped level my senses. 


So, three weeks later and two weeks before my due date, I am back at Mission Hospital slumped over a check-in desk, soaked in amniotic fluid, trying to spell my last name. 


There is only one labor and delivery room left and a few patients ahead of me all being examined before the room is assigned. 


My contractions are intense and around 3 minutes apart. They send us down the hallway to wait in this room and my heart starts to sink.


This is where my experience is about to change.


I’ve spent the entire day at home in the shower, trying to cope with back labor and limit my chances of unwanted interventions, all to be sent to a waiting room! 


I look to Mike, about to be so upset when I hear someone yell, “Ashley!” It was the nurse Katie who happened to be working in outpatient that afternoon...she whisks us away to the last available room. 


Transitional labor pretty much set in the second I got into my room and the nurses were running around trying to get everything set up. Everything was happening so fast. 


I got in the shower and Mike began filling the whirlpool. I remember a nurse yelling, “Someone needs to check her, get her on a monitor!” when another nurse stepped in. She had reviewed my birth plan on file and slowed everyone’s roll. 


In a matter of two seconds she refocused the energy in the room. 


She communicated with me and with the other nurse. It was obvious this baby was coming fast, but not so fast that everything had to happen without informed consent. 


She told the other nurse to make sure the midwife was on the way and that we would be waiting for her until I was to be examined, something noted in my plan. 


I thanked her but had to know how far along I was, granting her permission to check my dilation. 


7 centimeters. 


At this point, Katie was able to switch from outpatient to be in the room with us. She instructs another nurse to call the midwife again, she needs to get there as soon as possible. 


Mike helps me move about the room with monitors that allowed me to get into the tub. It was important that I was not connected to the bed unless I had to be. When the monitors started to feel suffocating, they removed them completely and brought them to me on regular intervals. 


The midwife arrives, scrubbed up and everyone leaves but her, Katie and Mike. 


With Mike’s hand in mine, our baby worked her way here. 


As much as I yelled, “Get this baby out of me!” everyone stayed calm and present!! 


After a few minutes I was overcome with the purest form of joy and that is a baby exiting your body and being placed on your chest! We were so moved by the moment we forgot to even see if it was a boy or a girl! 


Medically speaking I was extremely lucky that I had such a great pregnancy and quick labor, but emotionally, I am luckier that I had professional support at such a vulnerable time. 


Connecting with this program and the two nurses who created it, has been one of the greatest honors of my life. 


Making it their mission to help women of all walks of life to feel safe and strong. Continuing to grow this program and advocate for women and their partners who don’t know they have rights. 


They are now working to help teach other hospitals how to start programs like this one, with the hopes maybe one day ALL women will have the option to sit down with a nurse to talk about their preferences, their fears and how they can be supported through their labors. 


Trying to conceive, grow, birth, deliver, adopt and raise humans is exhausting and there needs to be more awareness and accessible perinatal support for individuals and families. 


In light of the MeToo movement, I think we can all agree there needs to be endless education on trauma informed birth. 


There needs to be more conversations about prenatal anxiety.  


There honestly just needs to be a shift within our society. 


There is so much unnecessary judgment these days, conversations about postpartum anxiety and depression are often overshadowed by oversharing physical journeys back to pre-baby bodies.


“It takes a village” is such a popular phrase, but some of us don’t have villages where we live! 


Some of these services may be more available than I think they are, but either way I am so grateful that we were able to utilize them for peace of mind. 


I want to be clear that I am in a good place, but I just wish someone would have mentioned this to me prior to my own pregnancy. I feel a sense of responsibility to start a conversation so that others are not surprised as I was.


I suggest researching your providers, hospitals or birth centers. Determine what is important to you, with the full understanding there is no guarantee anything will go the way you want it to! Just being educated about your options is empowering.


No one way of birth is better than the other, so never feel ashamed or put too much pressure on yourself to get a human out of your body in a certain way. 


Being there to support someone or asking for help at any point in your life is the greatest gift you can give yourself or someone else!


It has taken me a long time to come around to sharing this because I don’t want congratulations or apologies. People have endured far worse than myself and women have been giving birth for literally ever! I just hope to bring awareness to at least one person that pregnancy and labor are/can be as intense emotionally as it is physical and that women need just as much support through their perinatal journey as they do through those sleepless nights!
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I am a true romantic.

10/17/2016

1 Comment

 
My interpretation of the world is changing.

My circle is broad in thought...from poetry, to business, to adrenaline. It makes my ideas seem so intimate.

I'm sure that leaves changing and the crisp air are inspiring my being, but the diversity of my not so new home, is setting in. To be apart of so many peoples travels, so many peoples escape routes, or paths to discovery, changes a person.

My possessions are wearing thin, but I have no incentive to buy more. The skeletons of the trees are awakening and so am I. I think that Autumn is the most beautiful season. The yellow glow and bright orange leaves create awe in any eye. I've spent time reading and reading about the Appalachian mountains, reconnecting with the history of my home, in my new home. The battles and the desire to keep a sacred space reminds me that as a human, the most sacred part of you is in thought. I feel challenged, I feel inspired, and most importantly I feel a kinship with people from all over the world.

​In a turbulent time with controversial issues, it's important to find solace knowing you are doing your part. Be friendly, be open hearted, and listen. Listen to the colors of the fall. This season tells us something. It enlightens us to the beauty of change and the roots of humanity. 
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Just be glad to be here..

4/20/2016

2 Comments

 
If my creativity is lost, what am I accomplishing?

My heart is full, but my soul is drained.

Feelings like these follow big adventures.

I find myself coming back to this place when responsibility puts a wedge in the whirlwind, and life settles down for awhile.
It's been a year since my backpack and I have been on the go together and little did we know when we left for Asheville how fast the plan would change. Time has flown by. Between trips North for weddings and the consuming nature of working two jobs, I found myself saving in the fall for a road trip across the country, and saving in the winter for a sailing trip through the British Virgin Islands. Now I am back to all black frumpy waitressing clothes, reminiscing and just wondering....
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In a city that fosters imagination and art, how is it possible that I can't find the time to make any?

Every dream takes a different amount of time to achieve, and the inspiration of my person is lost in someone else's.

At some point it is important to admit frustration. Whether it be with patterns, habits, or the simple fact that every once in awhile your life and your wallet must recalibrate.
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How do you continue to seek inspiration when schedules are against you? Where do you turn, when you wish you were always readjusting your compass?

Living is the adventure, learning is the key, traveling is knowledge, and patience is time.

There is nothing more valuable then sitting and thinking of it all, right here, right now. If it weren't for now, I wouldn't be able to share what was. The prints of my fingers have touched the most beautiful sand, and the fishes of the clearest waters have welcomed me into their homes. My mind wanders and my body wishes to follow, but once again I must remind myself that there is nothing more beautiful than now. The ability to take a seat and reflect is almost harder than getting up and going.

It's more valuable to think than to live and it's more important to live than to overthink.

Productivity is important, but art is not forced. Stress is inevitable, and love is a gift
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As 11 months lingers I think of who I am now. Proud, happy, and longing of time to be my creative self.

As 11 months lingers, I send admiration for the old Ashley. A comfortable one, a powerful one. I think highly of her.

As 11 months in Asheville lingers, I concentrate on the patience of the sun and the moon. They spend their days working, knowing there is no break, no downtime. Day after day they preform the same task, yet manage to inspire creativity. This is what I must do, and respect that it might not be the project I dreamt about last night. That right now, it's not about me, it's about the foundations of who I am, and what I intend to accomplish.

I must find comfort that I will once again sit for hours and hours covered in glue, bouncing ideas around and transforming a piece of blank wood. But for now, and probably for another now, it is okay to take some pressure off myself and just be. Do my day to day tasks in appreciation that the sum of the past year is the most creative I've been.
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I watched the sunrise and sunset today. There isn't much a of a moon yet this time of evening, but it is somewhere out there...probably drinking a cup of coffee in preparation for its night shift.
The calm of this early evening reassures me that I am in a good place. The chaos of my life won't conquer my creativity forever and that in this moment I am confident in the Ashley that I am.
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There is an energy..

9/16/2015

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The kitchen is blaring modest mouse and I am having one of those, 'I like being a waitress days'. I buzz around the caution wet floor sign, not even bothered I almost saturated a lady in 3 glasses of water... 
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It's been a while since I've blogged. It's been a personal and tiring few months. Whether you are a guest that is so needy or a thought in my head that is too much for script, I've had writer's block. I'm not in a place to report growth, but I am not ashamed to feel content. I have some new friends that I really look forward to seeing, conversations are new, ideas are real. I am feeling settled for the first time since my trip. The beautiful weddings have passed and I am back in Asheville with no timeline to leave. This makes me kind of stressed, I am not ready for the adventure to be over.


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I've been having lots of encounters with de ja vu. I don't know what it is, but it's real, and I think something, is trying to tell me something.
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In these moments, these times of lulls and questions, I must not search for an answer, but find out what the heck the question is. What is it that will inspire me through this quiet time? What will trigger my creativity to be innovative? What can I think of by MYSELF to make myself a little more lustful for a life I am happy to be living? I feel vindicated to meet equally confused people and there is nothing more important then listening to their tactics and strategies. What did they learn from their travels, their friends, their move here? To truly look for answers to questions you don't even know, together.
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My heart feels full when I think of my potential. Knowledge is endless and I am the only one responsible for my inspiration. I needed a minute to touch base with my previous self. The person who wanted to take my trip, or the person who loves essential oils. I lost touch with my goals of being a witch!! How could I forget that?! A balance of work and play has been re-established into my free spirit, and it's time to grow once again.

Neutralities in life transpire insight and in these moments you either find or lose passion. 

Comfort, inspired by new people. 
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Being here feels natural and that's kind of surprising. 
The sky is a crystal blue today and yesterday Kyle explained why. I'm in the right place at the right time and I need to be confident in that.

Don't fix things that aren't broken and don't force change.

I'm happy and my mind is healthy, so instead of here I go, here I stay. I forget that the leaves change so people don't always have too. 
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The air is crisp and the windows are open. Let the spirit of Asheville filter through the screens and swirl into my soul.
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If the world's at large, why should I remain?

7/21/2015

5 Comments

 
My hair is dipped in glue and my "juice" is disguised in a mug. It's 1 am and I am so happy to be awake. Something inside me is changing. I think I am growing once again. My life is infected by laughter and hard work. I don't know which one I admire more. The hostel phone is clipped to my side and I am armed with communication. I've never felt more relatable, and in a way, I have never felt more stable.

I am not sure if I thrive off uncertainty, but I know I find commitment hard. I think I like the challenge of what's next and I am well aware this is not always a good thing. 

It's a weird state when not committing to something, actually becomes a commitment. 

It is cool how things are playing out. I really never would of thought I would be living in a hostel hosting new people every night. I have a new friend, I can't really remember not having, and I walk so damn fast around a new city that feels like home. 

One thing that has always remained the same is my music and the wonder. Why are we who we are? Why do we fall into patterns? Why? I use to have these weird blips when I was younger of amazement, that I was who I was, and that my name was Ashley, and that was me in the mirror, and I am kind of feeling that way again. 
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Moving into Sweet Peas has taught a lot about the fundamentals of my character. I'm mildly insensitive but I will help you. It's been enlightening and the amount of talented people is inspiring. The thought processes, the humor, the experience, and the wisdom of people is endless. Genuinely good people, escaping the daily routine to be in the mountains, with the trees, or just to enjoy the breweries makes me yell, "Cheers!" Humanity is alive and it is important to recognize the humanity within yourself.  We are all apart of it, just figuring it out as we go. I've never believed more in risks and chances and I am so happy I took one...even if it wasn't that big of a leap. 

(I took Sage to the pool the other day and she was showing me how huge she could leap.) 

​The simple act of believing what you are doing is huge; is mesmerizing. To actually follow through with something that holds a huge value to you, means even more. We are all capable of that idea we don't tell anyone, we just have to believe in the innocent spirit that ignited the thought. The dream before reality. The understanding that passion outweighs capability and that we are lucky to have the opportunity to do something huge, even if it is the smallest gesture.





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My new dresser! It even locks!
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A long drive for someone with nothing to think about.

7/4/2015

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My eyes, my skin, and my spirit are glued to the sun. It's warmth is infusing the forest green trees into my pores, and I am essentially high. My body is operating and muscle memory steers the wheel. Gosh, Middletown is mesmerizing. The golden glow hypnotizes me as I weave around saying hello to creeks and to the power lines. I assume most people feel a connection to their home town, and today I embrace love for mine. The sun sets on this beautiful valley fertilizing me with nostalgia and giving the fireflies time to play.
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Tomorrow I return to Asheville and my heart treads in the two or three tears I'll shed. I am confused why I have left people that I love and admire, but I know it's because they have given me the confidence to do so.
I had such a fun weekend traveling to three different states celebrating with friends. The first thing I did was get to Maryland. I was craving a run through Middletown. I needed to process everything. I wanted something familiar, my favorite activity, my favorite route.  It was so weird working my way up hills sweating toxins I gathered in a different life. I'm running through Fox Field with my shadow, thinking how odd and unconventional my life is, and how happy I am that it is that way. I almost feel like my shadow, is a distant self, but not. Walking into my house was cleansing. Even my room scattered with clothes doesn't feel cluttered. 
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I made my way up to Atlantic City and had a blast with friends. Getting caught in a sand storm and jumping into the pool at the night club. It was rejuvenating to catch up with people I already know. It was fun to celebrate an exciting occasion and go to the beach! 


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It's nice to return to Sweet Peas with a warm welcome. It feels like home. My bike anticipates my arrival and so does my "studio". I am aware I am developing a new normal.

A routine.

A stagnancy.

Long ago, I was traveling with my friend and his brother and we were at this beautiful lake in Switzerland. The mountains turned our breath into disbelief and language wasn't a barrier with the locals. The guy we met and were hanging out with was telling us about how small the city was and his sentence was interrupted by a boat about to dock. He says, "Come on, there will be waves!" Instantaneously, everyone gets up and gets into the water to ride the ripple, or wave, as they see it.

My mind was really boggled by this idea. Everyone, just waiting for the wave. Just waiting for it to come their way. The point of this little anecdote is because it's kind of how I felt this week.

​Here I am, in a place I like, with like minded people, but as I get to know the logistics, it's like we are just waiting for a wave.
It's six months to get into one gallery, it's two artist ahead of you in another. It's three professional references to even look at the application and it's three online pages before they look you in the eye. 

I am just not used to it. Is this what I want? How do I do it? Gosh, should I go home?
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Being home made things confusing. It reminded me how easy it was. I worked hard, but I could hang art as I pleased, or plan a show at my studio when I was ready. I was the boat making the wave. Now I am onshore. 


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(Time.)


(In time.)


(Give myself time, don't waste it.)


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It's Friday, and they are the best days here at Sweet Peas. I play Susie homemaker and blare my favorite music as everyone congregates in the kitchen and living room. They chat about their journeys or their plan for the day, each taking turns washing their dishes. I buzz around with excitement, a new weekend means even more new people. My stagnancy feelings have faded a bit and I am starting a new job this evening. 


My intuition knows I must create the wave of inspiration for myself again. I don't really know how to do this, but I have found a running route that is ever so challenging...


I think when I got back to Asheville I was struggling because it was comfortable. Excitement is often trumped by comfort and I lost the lust in the logistics. It's not about finding frustration in how long it takes me to accomplish my artistry goals, it's about learning from it. Thinking in terms of admiration for this time and how much opportunity I have to explore. 
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It just takes time. I will keep reminding myself of this, and to pass the time I will continue to collage. But, most importantly, I will continue to believe that I can make this work. 




Ps. To my friends, I wish I was camping this weekend with you all!
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I said, "I just robbed you, are you dumb?"

5/24/2015

4 Comments

 
Yesterday, on my drive down to Asheville, I was like a million different Ashley's. I was a nervous Ashley, an excited one, a fearful one, one thinking of turning around, and one that made really great time. I sang loudly and I would wipe away a tear or two every once in a while...I would think, "What did I get myself into?!" and then thank myself for doing it. 

I got to the hostel and the manager seems nice. I left all my stuff in the car and set out to have lunch and take care of logistics. I need a place to park and I need to scope out places to work. I walk around the city slowly remembering my way around from my last visit. 

I remember my way to the library to print of some resumes and I get my parking permit. I know Meagan gets off work in a little bit and I just can't contain my excitement! 

I wait for her outside a yoga studio, making a mental note to check their schedule. I see her walking down the street and she signals me to be quiet, Sage doesn't know I am here.

They continue walking down the street and Sage's vision is blocked a little by the sun. Their hands break apart as Sage moves to the left for the figure coming her way to pass by. She looks as she passes and it takes her a second. She says my name kind of under her breath, like I know you, but you are not supposed to be here. She instantaneously starts repeating my name and we embrace into a joyous hug. I can't help but shed tears as I give my sister a hug. She has a little tear and we both watch Sage rejoice! I am flattered by her excitement and I am in awe of her growth. Baby Sage, now replies to that nickname by correcting you, "I am not a baby, I'm a little girl!" That she is. 
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We end up walking around stopping at a brewery and going back to their place for pizza. It felt so good to feel remnants of home on a day of change. 


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The next morning on the way to school, Sage asks if I am sad, she saw a drip from my eye. "I'm not sad today Sage, I'm excited!" 

I walk around all day applying and applying and applying to jobs. It feels like a task, but there are so many different people at all these restaurants, I like the prospect of meeting them. I am due to work at the hostel at four, so I really try to take advantage of the day. Trader Joe's and jobs today, art tomorrow.

(I got the cutest aloe plant to liven up my pod from Trader Joe's.)

I get to the hostel and it's crazy weird. The girl I am working with is seriously like the same person I shared a studio with in college. Her name is Jade, but I keep wanting to call her PJ. The evening starts kind of slow and I get caught in a freak out mindset. What have I done?! Stopping my life and income to move to a hostel. I left my friends, family, privacy to live in place with different people every night. I am sitting at the desk stressing about my jobless, art studio-less life, and my heart just kind of sinks. I didn't think this through.

Somehow the subject gets back to my aloe plant. PJ, I mean Jade, and I are talking about how I will have to move it around so it can get the sun and then I thought about how it will soon need to be in a bigger pot and it made me think about my life at that moment. 
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This plant is me. I grew out of my planter and now I am in search of a bigger one. I need to keep moving my way around this city to find the elements I need to maintain my growth. I need a job, an art space, and the audacity to keep going. I have no idea what I want. I have some events scheduled this summer I will not compromise, but I won't just give up and go home empty handed. For that would only leave me empty hearted, and no amount of miracle grow can fix that. 


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Today, I fell in love with Asheville and this weird opportunity. I was hesitant at first, thinking it's too small, it's too small, but I think it's just right. The hostel is cool and I am catching on to my duties. I dropped a girl from Australia off at the Pisgah National forest for a retreat this morning and I winded down back roads in the sunlight, gazing at beautiful healthy trees. The air was fresh and my friend sent me encouragement through the telephone. I biked my way to the local grocery store (owned by Whole Foods.........) and just felt a sense of excitement.

I took off my helmet and as I was locking my bike up to the post, a car drove past blaring The Low Life, a band that makes me think of home. It is a sign, I am home for a little while.

I don't know how long I will be here, or what I even want from this experience. But I am happy to report I got a job (if I pass my background check...) and I found a nice little place to make some art today. It's all coming together, I just need to trust in time. 
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Hope all is well!


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4 Comments

And I know, and I go, and I go. Get up and go.

5/4/2015

4 Comments

 

Stones are crushing and we are picking up speed. We are laughing, thinking, "David will be so proud of us!"  Our bikes absorb the shock of each rock and we navigate our way down bike route 33 or 36 or whatever it is. It's freeing. The sun is getting tired, and we are okay with that. Kristin's bag is weighed down with crackers and wine, I've got the cheese. We always use to say it is, "The happiest of hours," but today it truly is. Waterfalls have left us in awe and we are in route to a swimming hole that the Catoctin can only dream of.

Cheers. 

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The sun has been so kind to us this trip. We could have not asked for a better day, or actually just for things to work out better. Most of the time, I find accommodations or attractions and we go with the flow. Figuring everything out generally happens with the support of public transportation, but not this time. 

There is nothing, yet so much...The lake is 6km away and there is one shuttle at 9 am. We have acquired a new friend on this leg of the journey and I truly feel insecure. I have booked what looks like a beautiful place, I have done my best to understand the busses and trains, but there is still so much gray. 

We make it to the place just fine. Now, we need bikes. We know we can get them, but foggy maps are hard to read. I am so tired of making decisions and this is where my love for Kristin kicks in. She knows I am just tired of planning and our new friend has brought me more research, so she takes the lead, and I can't thank her enough. The information lady shouts directions and we are on our way. 

Cute gentleman greet us at the hotel and it's like a feast of information.

This place is cool. Bikes await in the morning, (don't warn my muscles) today we hike the water route.

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It is interesting to travel with a new person. 

To absorb what they are feeling, combatting your own feelings. It's like, ahh, fresh air isn't always so fresh. I am happy he got the chance to experience a part of Croatia that is unreasonable to travel to by yourself, but I also just can't read him all that well. 

Hostels aren't frequent in these parts, so we all nestle into a guesthouse that makes me feel like I have power. The purple blankets are calling my name, and the opportunities to cook are speaking to Kristin's soul! What a weird situation. What a cool place to be. 

We have been all over the place. Switzerland, two places in Germany, Austria, Budapest, and now Croatia. It's nice to just chill for a second. We stopped in Zagreb, the capital for a night. We walked the streets looking for some food and it was so beautiful. Wide cobblestone roads filled with young people and flowers planted in beautiful designs. It's a nice change from the chaos that is Budapest. We must take a two hour bus from Zagreb to Plitvice National park and it's worth it...nice people, trails, and nature. 

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Following Croatia, our plans are sketchy. We have to fly to Greece, from Rome in a few days, but spending twelve hours in Slovenia waiting for a twelve hour night train is unappealing. We decide our best course of action is to fly to Rome from Budapest and from there we could take a train to the Dolomites to hike for a few days.

Shuttles prove to be delayed and after arriving in Rome we have ten minutes to find our 6 hour train to complete the last leg of this long day....45 minutes later...we are having drinks and dinner in Rome...we will just leave in morning....

3 days later...we are still in Rome explaining the rain in the mountains doesn't make the long journey there seem worth it...it could have been a little blue fuzzy on the weather report for all I care...sometimes you have to just settle for a few days.

Plus, I am just having too much fun in Rome. 

Our hostel has the best breakfast, bar, and people. We get the last beds each night and have to change rooms every morning. There are outrageously funny and good spirited young people here. Kristin and I have both been to Rome before, making it "sight-unseeing," but there is a beach we haven't been too!

We met a girl from the hostel who happens to be on the same flight to Athens with us and we have to leave for the airport at 3 am...no beds needed...the bar is 24 hours. She so thankfully organizes the cab and we are off. The airport's inefficiency is surprising and our, "plenty of time" ticks away. Another kid was going to be flying with us, but as the shuttle bus doors close, we know his luggage took too long to check, so it's just the three of us off to Athens.

I find us our way to the hostel and we wait for a friend of Rachel's who she also met at the hostel in Rome. We all go to lunch and it just instantly clicks. The laughter is genuine and we sit on some rocks overlooking the Acropolis. We are gauging if all the rules in the hostel are worth abiding, or if we should just go to Santorini that evening.


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Beers on rooftops makes decision making more fun and we commit to the cause. The ferry leaves at six and gets us there at 1 am. The tourist people organize transportation and a hostel for the evening. We just go with it and stock up on supplies for our evening at sea. Conversations, jokes, and sleeping all over the boat pass the time. A pink conversion-ish van waits for us at the port, we get in, I think how happy I am we have a guy with us...An older couple also hops into the van and we travel through a maze of roads to happily see they have an actual place to stay. The van continues into the maze on what feels like dirt roads. He stops and I just take a deep breath...it's a real place! The guy lets us in and shows us one room and says the other one is upstairs. He insists we are the only people there and we can be as loud as we want. Upstairs we go trying to find the room, using the key in each door until one opens. At the exact moment the key twists, the neighbor's door opens and we all scream soooo loud...its haunted! We are laughing so hard, but before we settled down, we have to check out the rooftop pool. This place is beautiful, we really believe the view is a painting, the water is so calm with mountainous islands in the distance. Matt and I both look to the sky...a shooting star...gosh, my heart leaps!

In the morning we all leave the place feeling giddy, but it's a little like a walk of shame, the place wasn't empty, it was full. 


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We try to understand the busses to get to the beach, but end up taking a cab. Once again, I travel with hopes that the place I've found is real...one of the reviews insists it is not, so we are taking a chance. The hostel gives you a bus stop and a place to go to ask how to get there. There is no address or street name. We wind through wine country, watching the cliff faces change as the road descends downhill. The taxi driver stops in what feels like nowhere and says this is the bus stop. I look around to see the place we are supposed to ask for directions is boarded up and my heart drops, maybe it isn't real. The cab driver pushes us out of the car and I guess we will just have to figure it out. We find a nice ATV place right next to the stop and he so kindly gives us directions. We walk down this dirt road, wondering when the tumbleweeds will start to roll on by. We finally stumble upon our hostel, and this place is awesome! The pool is nestled into a beautiful stone patio, with lounge chairs, picnics tables, umbrellas, and people! We are two minutes from the black sand beach, bars, and we have our own room!

Rachel and Matt end up staying with us till Wednesday and sunscreen couldn't block out the laugh lines. It was sad to see them leave, but that's what happens when you backpack. I almost gave into temptation and thought about continuing to travel with them, but I declined (gosh, I wanted to go).

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Genuine people are easy to find when everyone is vulnerable. When you take ego out of it, mix in discovery and a dash of drive, you find friends like these. No one is competing with stories, no one is seeking to be the center of attention, and no one is homesick.

I want to go back to that shooting star though. It proved the view was alive and not a painting. It was a flash of excitement that holds so much symbolism...a little wink from the universe. It reminds me how fast time flies. When my friends and I were younger, we would sleep outside and look for shooting stars. It was fun and we would make a wish as it flew by. I didn't make a wish that night...I was already living it. I don't know where that star went, but I hope to mirror it's course. 

Someone told me before I left for this trip that, "In life, it is okay to put a punctuation mark on an idea, or a time in your life." That shooting star, was my punctuation mark. While I am sad to be getting on busses, ferries, planes and trains to find my way back home, I am also ready for a new paragraph. What's the point of traveling if you never allow yourself to implement what you have learned? 

Successful trips create an urge for more exploration. The desire and curiosity to travel will settle in the back of my mind for a little while, until it feels too stagnant. The trip is never really over, it's just letting life in for a little while.

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I am on the train looking for the WC and thinking about finding the adapter so I can charge my phone. I have some internet so I reply to a Facebook message and start counting back to see what time it is at home. I catch a glimpse of the electrical plug out of my peripheral vision and my heart sinks a little bit...I am home. What a scary place to be.

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You don't know where, and you don't know when.

4/13/2015

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Sweat drips down my face. My legs are burning. I'm making great time. This time it's for time, not pictures. 

It's hard to look up because the rocks are unpredictable. I'm halfway down a set of steps rounding a bend.

Bam, a chubby tourist cuts you off. Walking so leisurely, adjusting her little digital camera lense to get a terrible picture. "Excuse me, excuse me." No movement....I wait impatiently, I'm no billy goat, but let's show a little trail etiquette. Bread is at the bottom lady! 

Finally she moves, and I am off. I feel so free.  The sweat begins again and the sun is reaching the golden hour. Kristin and I woke to watch it rise and tonight we will have dinner as it sets. I am hiking the Cinque Terre, my body feels even stronger knowing I am on my hike back from two towns over, who cares about train timetables...I'll worry about that in a couple of days. 

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Cinque Terre is a group of five towns along the coast of Italy and you can hike between all five. People generally hike and then take a train or ferry back to the town that they are staying in, but the ATM in our town is out of money, so we have no choice (I always wanted to hike back.) The hikes are hard. Steps on steps on cliffside paths. We even helped a lady who slipped and was luckily caught by brush on our way back.

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We stayed in the middle of the five towns, finding what could be the last room available on this holiday weekend. Corniglia is the perfect place to stay. Less tourism then the others, but restaurants cure the no kitchen problem, and Visa is accepted! Let the exercising portion of our trip begin!

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The first day we hiked to Vernazza and Monterosso, laying on the beach and eating focaccia bread smothered in the local pesto. The next day we hiked up so so so so so high into the mountain to walk by perfectly carved out grape vines and through the tiniest of towns, to walk down a million steps. A landslide has shut down the two main paths between Manarola and the other town Riomaggiore so alternate routes are taken. Today, blisters are setting in for Kristin and we plan to just take the ferry back to Corniglia. We begin the last hike in excitement, which is quickly replaced with exhaustion. We stop at the top to talk to some fellow "United Stater's" (not trying to offend those from South America) reassuring them the trail only gets harder.

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We finally make it to Riomaggiere only to find the ferry doesn't take you to our town, but Vernazza, the town after...I know what I am going to do. Kristin reluctantly goes along with my plan and I get the ferry tickets. One last hike! 

The ferry ride is so beautiful. The sun is once again getting tired and the water is such a beautiful turquoise green color. I think briefly about getting organized for tomorrow, but I let it wash away, I love this place. 

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The ferry lets us off and I remind Kristin we are eating pizza for dinner, and that I'll see her in Corniglia. The trails are less crowded today thankfully and I make great time. I felt such a rush making my way back into town. The weather couldn't have been better, and tomorrow we are going back to Switzerland (don't mind the zig zag in our plans.)

Some beers in the sunshine with a group of funny people follows as Kristin makes her way back to town! Pizza taste better when you deserve it. 

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Unfortunately, in the morning, delayed trains steal a day from our journey. We make it to Bern at like 9:30 p.m and have to check into our hostel by 10:00! We use some Swiss phone and the guy from the hostel tells us,"To take our time." We play some cards and finish our bourbon reminiscing about the train ride there. We sat in a cluster of people laughing so hard with this brother and sister, it was so fun. Kristin cooked a beautiful breakfast in the morning and Interlaken is our destination. A few years ago my friend, his brother, and myself were mesmerized by the mountains there. I can't wait to be back! 

We finally get to Interlaken and I point to this restaurant/overlook on the top of a mountain and tell Kristin, that's the hike. We settle down at the hostel, dropping our bags, smushing all the rules. Our hiking boots get released from the many knots connecting them to our backpacks, it's time for some soil from the Alps to nestle into the fabric. 

This hike is tremendously hard. So steep. Our backpack is a little heavier today and we are just tired. Water breaks are needed. On one of them we get passed by an older couple, embracing breath and the burning sensation in their calves. If only we had walking poles... We commit to taking our time. Around every corner we insist we have to be there...were not...but we are at a hut that I've been to before. Rejuvenation finds me when I see the autographing David did still overlooks the valley. We wre totally pro "leaving no trace" but one time wouldn't hurt. Gosh, I just smile. 

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We finally make it to the top. It was hard, we wave to the older couple as they sip on water, respect to them for sure!!

The view is beautiful and a peaceful day at the lake awaits. We really don't have any plans after Switzerland. Kristin has found the Black Forest in Baden-Baden, Germany, so off we go. Hansel and Gretel met the wicked witch here...scary. 

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But i am breathing, so i Guess i am still alIve.

4/6/2015

2 Comments

 
I am a pretty neutral person. I value laughter, love and hard work. I love expressions and body language. Kristin explains it as if I feel how I feel. If I feel moved, I cry, if I am happy, I smile, if I feel angered, I say something about it. Traveling is like juggling all of those feelings in unknown scenarios. 

It's about learning and reintroducing yourself, to yourself. 

Today I am struggling with the simplest idea...I am growing up. (I can't find a better word then struggle.)

I don't want that to seem like I am upset about becoming a responsible person...I am always striving for that...but in admiration for transition, one based off of my own feelings, my own reactions to things, and for my one encounter with time. 

I believe in regret, but I feel more passionate in the foundation that regret transpires. Who would I be without some of my poor decisions? I don't want to be invincible, I want to be real. 

The rain on the train window this afternoon mirror tears, tears I don't feel anymore. I thank myself for that. I thank time for that. I thank growing up for that. This is never meant to be sad, but to be happy. To honor the lives that have touched mine, good and bad. To honor that this is my life, my choices, and my chance.

This is out of respect and understanding that emotional health is as valuable as my Eurail Pass and that traveling is not all beautiful Instagrams, but a bunch of unfiltered lessons. 




(I've been listening to a lot of TED talks)




(But for now, back to France, and an unexpected night in Switzerland...who woulda thought it was Easter weekend, and that a lot of people travel?)



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We didn't have a first stop booked, and these annoying girls in Madrid told me the one place I wanted to go in France was shady, so we decided to go to Lyon. It seemed rational, 6 hour train ride and I always wanted to get to Annecy, which is a mountainous lake town near Lyon. We found a beautiful, brand new hostel with reviews about how nice the showers were...which were needed. We needed to take a day and reset, maybe, look at a map...

Lyon is very pretty. Two rivers surround the peninsula that is the main part of the city. Lots of bridges cross the rivers at different points and the buildings are colorful and decorative. However, it's more on the expensive side.

After exploring a bit, we stopped at the store, and went back to the hostel. We have decided our newest dream is to open one, and this place was perfect for inspiration. It is so new, they don't even have a table yet, so we had to take over the smoking room...finders keepers. With the windows wide open as well as the door, we drank wine, played cards, made dinner and practiced handstands. Some kid that worked there sat with us, and just couldn't grasp that this place needed a table! The owner wants it to be a party hostel...I don't get how a table would hurt that vision, but whatever.

The next day we saw a castle at the top of mountain, so we went. We crossed one of the many bridges and found our way into a really pretty old part of town. We "fiked" our way up the sidewalks, huffing and puffing our way past ruins and through gardens to discover that our "castle"...is the most beautiful church. Mosaics glisten in the light and the walls are saturated in colors, thanks to the stained glass windows. We sat in a pew and just took a minute, I even shed a tear. What a beautiful surprise.

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We made our way to the ruins, it was time for  some wine and amazing sandwiches made by my personal chef, Kristin. We sat hidden on a ruin watching annoying kids on a field trip run around. We talked about doing laundry and which train to take in the morning. Then a guard spotted us and it was time to go...(we chugged the wine, don't worry).

At the bottom of the hill waited a witch doctor (my other dream) who gave me a potion for my skin and we bought the most perfect little day backpack we had been searching for. We did our laundry and organized our bags, made dinner and got ready for our train in the morning...magic is real!

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Annecy is beautiful. The clearest water reflects mountains that I think are the Alps, and the park is a perfect place to hang out. The old town guides you straight to the road where our hostel is and a game of scrabble with some new friends brings laughter. This hostel has chickens, a must at ours, and is close to the grocery store. We went hiking on this crazy, slippery, rocky trail and laughed about how dumb we are once we made it back down. This place is calm now but I can only imagine the craziness that is summer here. Cool slides float locked to docks, while paddle boats crave attention. I'll just add this to my list of places to come back too...(maybe next MLK weekend my friends and I will come here...it's only a little bit farther than Deep Creek.)

A low sense of urgency gets us to the train station later than we planned, just to find out it didn't matter, every train to Milan is booked. We have to spend the night in Geneva to take a train to Milan in the morning. We don't even want to go to Milan, but it is middle point to our next goal that is Cinque Terre. 

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Geneva is really pretty too...old town, good food, and a 6 dorm hostel room all to ourselves! Milan is crazy busy and I couldn't leave our 10 bed mixed dorm fast enough in the morning (gasping for fresh air!) The train from Milan to Cinque Terre is once again booked so we have to stand/sit on these fold out chairs, but I don't mind. We've made it here and got the last room at this hostel...it's beautiful. It is a private room, with a loft and a terrace. Fresh air fills it up and it has pretty view. Hiking is on our to do list, but only after catching the sun rise over Manarola.

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It's 4 am and I am watching a twinkling star dance by an almost full moon. My hair is brushed and I feel well rested. I could care less there is no wifi and I am excited for a few days in Italy. 


(Shoutout to the Webbers for telling me about Cinque Terre, this place is amazing.)


Hope all is well! My go pro is charging, ready to take some pictures!!

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