There is nothing ordinary about the mountains, nor about those who seek meaning and beauty in them.

Why we blog came up in conversation yesterday, standing in the sunny entrance way of a lovely out of the way coffee shop... right in the way of the line that formed around us. Isn't that always the way with great conversations? I often try to figure out why I have this incessant need to put words down and then fling them to the universe but I have been unable to come up with a concrete answer. The words were given to me yesterday. A significant reason that I love writing, here to be specific, so much is that I get to be 100% authentic. There is no lost in translation, I present the same front to everyone who reads this. Taking this idea in hand I have decided to devote the next few months to living with that kind of authenticity, so far it has manifested in two ways. First, I feel no guilt what so ever for going to bed at 9:30. Mid conversation, mid episode of TV, mid algebra question. If I am tired I go to bed. The second way is the freedom to do what I want, when I want.

One such where I want when I want excursion happened this morning and I feel, for a very good reason. I spent my early hours being 'domestic' as my friend put it. Running errands, cleaning the house, grocery shopping for something other than macro bars and tortilla chips. The sun was out and I thought to my self ' If I didn't have so much math to do I would love to jaunt off to the mountains, take some pictures, get a coffee'. What was stopping me (other than an empty gas tank and bank account)? In that moment, instead of heading home I grabbed a large coffee, gas for Jay (my beloved Volvo DOES have a name!), my camera and headed west. There is very little as deeply satisfying as choosing Highway 1 WEST instead of East. In those hours I mentally revisited old haunts, turn offs for ski hills and hikes, pit stops, previous photo ops. I hummed along to the radio and did some drive by shooting - unfocused, through the windshield photography without looking through the viewfinder. All in all a great way to spend a morning.

I finally arrived in Canmore, grabbed more caffeine and ran into an old friend and her new daughter all the while reminded of my deep connection to the mountains, their definition of my young life.

The drive home was equally, if not more stunning as the sky was finally turning blue. It was less thoughtful, more petal to the metal, like a horse running home towards the barn. I finally settled in for an afternoon of study and checked my email before cracking the books. There, in my inbox was an email that was truly heartbreaking. Through tears of gratitude I read the obituary of a former teacher. I was lucky enough growing up to go to a school that recognized the deep importance of outdoor education. From the age of 9 we were inspired by and shown the mountains, rivers and lakes of Alberta and taught about how to live, work, and play in them with respect and awe. I attribute my love of the mountains and water to this upbringing and education. Mr. Preston was the spark for all of this. His calmness, his sense of humour, the way his eyes lit up when talking about backcountry safety or when unloading canoes to practice paddling below Ghost Lake. So many of those moments when I accomplished a trip, a summit, not losing a school canoe to the rapids, he was there for, he was the lifeblood of that program and I doubt if anyone who had him as teacher or trip leader felt any differently. I don't think it just a coincidence that the need to drive through rockies hit me so hard this morning. I wouldn't be surprised if it was some small connection to Mr. P and to all those ridiculous adventures we all shared.

'There is nothing ordinary about the mountains nor about those who seek meaning and beauty in them'

Keep Left

Even at 25 you gotta start sometime.

I am addicted to twitter for a plethora of reasons. I am intrigued by the lives of pro and semi-pro skiers. It's a little creepy I admit. I enjoy photographic updates by everyone from old friends to the industry standard that is National Geographic. I am also addicted to twitter for its brief moments of truth and inspiration. Tonight just such a moment occurred and from a somewhat surprising source, a dear friend who might not be known to share his feelings or intentions so clearly. " Sometimes growing up means manning up." - Simple words and yet, isn't that what we are all trying to do? Have the balls to do what we need to do, to go where we want to go?

This sums up my weekend. Just a few lessons in both 'manning up' and 'growing up'. Saturday night I caught up with my two best friends. They have known me longer than most people and are willing to call me on any thing and everything. You, yes you reading this, may have noticed I have been floundering a bit as of late. I was refusing to do either of the things my friend so wisely suggested. I couldn't make a decision, couldn't commit to anything. I hadn't really shared these fears and uncertainty either. I can say now that this was the first step. Thank you friends who let me clear with you what was keeping me up at night. Getting it all out in the open and realizing that it would be ok was so important. After a few glasses of wine unfortunately, this step needed to be repeated... to another set of unsuspecting victims.

In a refusal to grow up I hadn't been brave enough to make any choices, to deal with anything that I had been holding onto so tightly. The next morning I felt lighter, more relaxed, a tiny bit hung over. Ready for what was next.

I am happy to take advice from where ever it comes, especially if I am paying for it. What becomes a little agitating, both in the increasing cost incurred and in my ability to see that I do not take direction easily sometimes, is when I get the same information from five different sources. Sunday morning started with our annual girls trip to the tarot card reader. We do this when our friend from the west is in town and every year we get answers, and a little freaked out.  What I didn't expect was to hear the exact same thing my phycisian, my naturopath, my coach, my friends and my family had been telling me for months from my... psychic. Now it's one thing to hear about the qualities you posses that give you results in life and that hold you back (sometimes they are one and the same) from some one who asks you probing questions about your mental and physical health. It is another completely to place your hands in those of someone you just met, someone who doesn't even know your name, and to have them recognize those same traits. It was a combination of this very blunt description of the life I have been living from a complete stranger with the clearing I had the evening before that caused a very physical reaction to this very emotional process. I had let go of what I was holding onto, giving up the fear of change and coming to terms with what it was about me that was preventing me from... manning up and growing up.

Looking past this for the last day and a half, I can say with certainty I am moving west, I even have a date picked. I give up my attachment to the people and things that aren't serving me. My grad school applications are in the mail or fast on their way to completion.  I am content with my life and where it is going, taking it off my list of great fears where I had placed it a few weeks ago along side a flat bum, sharks, and living on a fault line.

I know there will be times where I need to be brave, to take those steps and leaps towards the vision and goals I will achieve. This was the first.

Rolling in the deep.

The weight of a good piece of art resting over my heart on my chest is like nothing else. It is comforting in the history and meaning behind it and brings a sparkle to my eye when I catch it in the mirror. I received just such a piece this weekend from a very dear and long held friend. You see, I have a tiny tiny tattoo on the back of my neck. After living many years away from the ocean and the Rockies I placed them in ink on my own body – 2 mountains over a single wave. The gift, a silver pendant, was just this form. I was so blown away at receiving such a thoughtful gift that I was at a loss for words. Could you imagine?! Feeling it resting on my breast bone reminds me of the strength and stability of the mountains I hold so dear and the power in vulnerability of the ocean. What else could a girl ask for?

The two of us spent the afternoon enjoying the Alberta College of Art and Design show and sale. To be surrounded by such a vibrant plethora of works was like honey for my soul. Sweet and nurturing. In a city where sometimes I find that money and oil precedes and crushes all else it was comforting and inspiring to be in a place, with so many people, who saw things more along the same lines that I do.  I was saturated with colour, texture, new ideas. Life.

We were just about to leave when one of the alumni relations committee asked me if I was an artist. I stammered out something along the lines of ‘not really, I play photography…’ My dear friend stopped me. You are an artist. I am an artist.

This affirmation shocked me in the feelings that arose. I was moved by the idea that my art was impactful enough that it could define me as a person. This came with a few others that afternoon. Listening to my dear friend speak highly of my writing, the images I produced, an eye for design brought life to a dullness that has settled over me as of late.

Living alone in a time of transition has been challenging for me. It is easy to over think and to spend too much time in solitude. I went out for dinner with 2 close friends from university this evening and this idea came up. There are times, especially in our young lives, where everything feels just right. We have a great job, a wonderful love, a strong plan for the future. Then there are the times between. Without Floor. Without Ceiling. A future as blurry as looking through glasses fogged by breath in a cold Calgary winter. No partner in crime. No source of income that inspires us, that motivates us. This is where I stand without definition. Too many forked roads too far out. Fortunately this is what shapes us. When things are not just right we are forced to examine what serves us and let that which does not fall away. Our relationships go under the micro-scope and those that are truly important, those who truly love us rise to clarity at the top and those that are not sink away. In time, I know I will look back on this post (I always do) and this time with a smile. I know what lies ahead will indeed be great. It is just too small on the horizon to make out quite yet. Makes riding off into the sunset all the more appealing.

Stop fighting the battles.

Two amazing blog posts have fallen into my lap in the last few days. Each a different perspective on two vastly different topics.

The first from the blog of a young man working in the ski industry in Japan. I have turned off the news as of late, not out of apathy, but out of saturation of the images and stories that have been so desperately heart breaking. This post was inspiring in its poetic recounting events of the past few weeks.  Reading it brought me to tears and gave the tragedy a human voice. Check it out here. - Some music mentioned in the post to read by. The XX and Nina Simone.

The next is written by a dear friend. A young women who elevates my world every time I have a conversation with her, read her work, check out her photographs. She is both incredibly strong and vulnerable at the same time. I read her most recent post before bed last night and when I was finished searched frantically for something to write down the message I took from it. Scrawled, in  eyeliner on the back of a photo, were the words "stop fighting the battles".  Sometimes we just need to let go, let things happen in their own time. 

Are we tangled in time somewhere.

Hammock time. The time you take to just be and to find calmness and stillness.

This can be rare in our society where things often occur at a frantic pace. Our sympathetic nervous system kicks into full force. The one that says "fight" or "flight" and sometimes "freeze" to us. The one that evolution put into place so our ancestors would survive. It is a cycle that often looks like a frantic urge to always be on the go followed by exhaustion, caffeine to get us riled up again, a resulting lack of sleep, more caffeine. There is so little value placed on calm, still, peaceful space. The space that lets the universe, what ever you or I name it, fill us with insight, health and joy. I am in no way immune to our go-go-go lifestyle. I have often prided myself on working harder, longer, under less and less healthy conditions. More extreme, less balance.

Today was my wake up call. A vivd and heart wrenching, beat skipping, wake up call. I was lucky enough to find myself on my yoga mat this afternoon. Eoin Finn, the blissologist who I did my teacher training with, was in town doing workshop. The deeply energizing and simultaneously calming practice opened areas that were tight, stilled my overstimulated mind and brought up a deep joy and playfulness that I hadn't felt in a while. Never once did it feel like work, every second was filled with an uncommon gratitude for strength and muscle memory that carried me through the physical postures while allowing my mind to focus on... nothing but that hot sweaty hilarious room.

Our practice ended with a long guided mediation followed by savasana. Not just any savasana though. It was one we had often enjoyed during our teacher training. Eoin calls it a puppy pile and the only guiding principle is that you are in physical contact with those around you. He spoke to the need in today's world for healthy physical touch. Hugs, partner yoga, the ability to heal one another. As I lay there on the floor with the weight of a good friend's head on my thigh I was so content, comforted even. People who I had never met lay hands on my arms, let me nestle up to their warm bodies. Over the next few minutes the breathing in the room was audibly more peaceful. I was sure for a few moments I could hear someone softly crying. A beautiful release in the safety of our warm little group. This peace, this contact was exactly what I needed. The reminder that finding this sattvic state would allow me to achieve so much more that stressing about exams, applications, and life in general.

I am deeply grateful for this afternoon, for the reawakening I so needed. For the friendship of amazing people in just the places, at just the time that creates what is necessary for me to be who I must be. Who I want to be.

Her thoughts were westward bound.

So I've let myself get a little wrapped up in things lately. A lot of free time will do that to a person prone to navel gazing.

I have had a vice in my chest pressing down with the weight all the shit I haven't done. The things I wouldn't just let go of. No space. I've been worried about not studying enough (easily solved), I have been stressing about relationships that are not even in peril, and I have been agonizing about wandering west. Well after a night that I was glad ended sooner than later I woke up at 5 am this morning with a clarity that rarely strikes me. I just knew. Meaning finally finding its place among the confusion I had created in my life. I have a funny concept ruling me right now. It's the old adage that everything happens for a reason, there is a time and place and sometimes it just isn't right. I am at a bit of standstill right here, right now, and it is creating the space for the next step. Nothing is holding me in place here. I can make excuses that summer prairie patios and potato pizzas are enough, that I can't find, or move, these things further west but in reality I know where I will end up - I just need let the space exist to hustle out there.

The perspective of a good sleep and a lack of thinking is truly inspiring. Instead of being so wrapped up in my own inconsequential issues I practiced the art of gratitude this morning on my brisk walk to the coffee shop. I smiled at everyone I saw, stopped to pat puppies, didn't scowl at the drivers turning left with little thought for pedestrians. The response shouldn't have surprised me but it did. People smiled back, they said good morning. They brightened my day and I theirs, all in the exchange of just being and just smiling.

I can't take all the credit for this insight this morning, a dear friend and fellow blogger was the catalyst for shredding that dark cloud. Her words constantly inspire me. That and my mum put me on to a new band (well new for me). I do love a good electric banjo.

I'm on my feet, I'm on the floor, I'm good to go.

Sometimes life comes full circle without me even noticing. It creeps like the tiny chip in a windshield of a car driven often on rocky mountain highways, slowly forming a crack that is so in your face you can't help but recall how it got there.

Today is St. Patrick's day. Being both of Irish decent and not being one to turn down a chance to drink a few pints it would be obvious that this is MY holiday. Today though comes at the end of a week where perhaps more studying should have happened and so I made the decision to spend time catching up with friends and hitting the books instead. An hour ago, prompted by updates of debauchery and fun on my phone, my computer, from ruckus outside my window I couldn't contain my math filled cabin fever any longer. If I couldn't go out drinking with my friends I was at least going to run off the pent up energy. I laced up  my shoes and hit the sidewalk running. Literally.

As I ran through my streets of my neighbourhood I could see and hear the parties of 17th ave. Suddenly deja vu hit me. This is exactly what I had been doing 1 year ago. Not going out but running. Even more strange was that last year I wasn't a runner. Now, as I tend to introspection anyway when I run, it got me thinking what else had happened in the last year. How much had changed? How much hadn't.

Our years are measured in landmarks. For some it is birthdays, New Year Eves, anniversaries, for me it is the less celebrated and more spontaneous events, the day I said no to law school, break ups, make ups,  other days my world view shifted. It has been a pleasure today to look back and see how far I've come in a year. I've become a writer, a photographer, a runner. I've become someone willing to do the work, to take herself on, to be the person I want to be. A year ago, on that run, I was just barely waking up to those possibilities.  I am not sure what has changed really. Perhaps just a willingness, or a longing to continue forward on this journey instead of sitting back.

In this spirit, I am off again, with camera in hand, to capture some of the amazing Calgary light.

In a big country dreams stay with you.

I haven't felt inspired to write the last few days. Not that inspiration wasn't surrounding me but simply that the words weren't coming, flow blocked like ice in a stream.

Maybe my biggest lesson as of late is the strength of a person's will and the power that it carries. Lucky enough I put myself in a situation where I learned this the fun way, not the hard way. This weekend I ran my first 10km road race. Let's be honest. The first 10km I would ever have run continuously. I had been training but not to the extent which would have left me feeling confident going in. To add insult to injury my parents had planned a dinner party the night before, this meant a reasonable flow of wine and potentially late night. Now an intelligent runner would probably skip the vino and head to bed early. I on the other hand, in my overconfident and less than rational state, saw this as a challenge to be accepted. The dinner party later turned into a few drinks with friends. No big deal.

Well I wasn't 100% to run the next day but when it came time to keep going the thought that ran circles through my mind was 'If you are dumb enough to go out the night before a run you sure better run the whole thing and fast. No excuses'. Luckily I finished, ran the whole way and faster than I had expected. It wasn't that I didn't want to stop, go back to bed, it was just that it wasn't an option.

Now clearly this is a humorous example of the idea of mental will power but what I have really found so inspiring as of late are the huge goals that people surrounding me have taken up and no matter how difficult they seem to be to achieve. These people are passionately committed to achieving their big, hairy, audacious, goals often simply through the sheer willpower to do so. Dreams stay with you.

Times they are a changing.

Most days waking up is just the same, rolling out of bed, feet hitting the floor, thinking about coffee. Once in a while, everything is different. Somedays everything changes.

I remember one morning, my mum came into my room and turned on the radio to wake me up like she did everyday. In my groggy state I was sure that the announcers were describing a new movie. That had to be the reason they were so worried about the plane that had just crashed into the world trade centre in New York.  Coming downstairs I saw my mother glued to the TV in our kitchen as a second plane crashed nearby the first.

Another morning we ate breakfast before a day of skiing as we found out that 7 astronauts had been killed when their shuttle exploded. The day didn't end before more tragedy had occurred, losing 7 members of our own close knit community to an avalanche near Roger's Pass.

I found out about the Columbine shooting on another school morning and vividly remember the bus ride that day, planning escape routes from our classes with my classmates.

This morning waking up to the devastation in Japan brought up similar emotions. This simple feeling that while I was sleeping the lives of so many changed in an instant. A thousand thoughts went through my head, knowing that this kind of thing rarely affects just one spot on the globe. Were my friends on the island ok? What about the ones in Aus and NZ? The others vacationing in Hawaii? What about my friends of Japanese decent? Were their families accounted for and well? Were they ok, their bodies in Canada but hearts and hopes and prayers over seas? Then a million others. Environmental impacts, economic ones. How could we help. We must help them.

I have never experienced a tragedy like this while also being so involved in social media. The out pouring of emotion and well wishing is astonishing and heartening in this world where globalization isn't always a good thing. It was and is amazing that such a tool is really key to the connection we need right now.

My heart goes out to friends and family in places of fear or damage, my heart goes to everyone in Japan with hopes of comfort, safety and courage (that is what I would wish for in such a time. I think). Peace and Love in these days. These days where everything can change.

Don't underestimate what I will do. There's a fire starting in my heart.

"Inspiration exists but it has to find you working" - Pablo Picasso

With so many undetermined by-whens, so few solid plans it has become easy to flit away my time these days. The luxury of not running around, rushing, cramming every second of each 86 400 second day full has been extravagant and much needed. It has also lulled me into a semblance of purgatory, waiting for the next step but never really taking it, stuck somewhere in the middle. This in combination with the fact that I do have a few upcoming deadlines I just can't afford to miss has begun to worry me a little. My solution to what could be endless hours spent with facebook, twitter and my PVR was this...



This photo that I found here is the necessary motivation in my day. I crave inspiration that comes like lightning from a clear sky and I believe Picasso was right. I know that the more I study for my exam the closer I am to achieving the inspiring goals that I set for my self. I know that my sitting down, focusing on my writing or my photography or anything productive will give me the spark to create better, to figure out exactly what I can do that I love AND that will afford me a lifestyle that I will adore. Or at least pay the bills.

So that's it folks. Now, back to work.

And I saw my reflection in the snow covered hills.

A creeping anxiety has filled me for the past few days. Like the roots of a tree slowly breaking through the concrete, taking it over, crumbling it to gravel.

I am frozen with fear. Fear of all the new, fear of all the what ifs.

Being a typical Cancer (born in early July, and suited to my sign), I am a nester, I don't love change, I love to cling to my loved ones, my community, all that I painstakingly brought together. I don't like to be vulnerable, this is why change takes much longer for me than might otherwise be necessary. The odd thing about me, at least in an astrological sense, is that I crave adventure, I am addicted to travel and journeys in any capacity. I am incredibly futuristic and I enjoy being out of my comfort zone. But not all at once. I love temporary change, I adore moving on, moving forward when it only involves a sliver of my life, in the safety of knowing that everything else is there to catch me when I fall.

Right now it is all at once. The possibilities of school, (or not), of a new career (which one!!!), (or not !!!), a new city, leaving behind an old and well loved and cultivated one. I am gripped with the fear of making the wrong choices at the wrong times. Of losing and never gaining.

All I can think of to do is stop, be still, practice yoga, read, all the time. To spend time with those I can not let go of, to visit old and dear haunts. I am taking a stab at just being at peace with the process. The process that it is so clear, the process that must be happening for a reason. Even if that reason is just to help me along in all the changes that have needed to happen for so long.

In the sprit of all these things, here's an oldie and a goodie.

Alberta Bound.

Happiness means a lot of different things to a lot of different people. This week has made this brilliantly clear, all the facets of a gem shining with radiance. Friday morning we, the family, got up early to hit the hill. It had snowed the night before and it was a blue bird day. The three of us were giddy. My dad, before 9am had 2 sets of first tracks on 2 of his favourite runs.  His face lit up like a very small child receiving the christmas present he had dreamt of all year long. He was beside himself. My mum was also ecstatic. More important to her than first tracks, more important than a full day on the slopes, she had managed a prime parking spot in the lot. Right. Near. The. Front. It was all she could talk about all day. We were coming down the back side and as she saw the streams of cars coming up the hill she let out a joyful sigh at her spot so close to the lodge, the hard earned efforts of getting us all out of the house at 8.

I wasn't sure what my manifestation of pure happiness was until this morning. Sure I loved my time skiing, finally progressing instead of just playing catch up from years past. I also enjoyed my afternoon runs, catching up with old friends, getting math questions correct after struggling with them. None of these things though lit me up like my parents had been on Friday morning. That was until my mum asked me if I knew what colour coolant my car took... and I did. Now I drive a car that often needs a little extra love but that can take a lot of abuse as well. It is finding that balance. Well the coolant light on the dashboard of my loving station wagon had been on for a few days but I brushed it off. Sometime the floaty in the tank just need to be jiggled (these scientific terms coming from my beloved family Volvo dealership... more or less), so I jiggled and thought I was finished. My mum asked me a day or two later to check the coolant levels as the light was still on. This morning I proudly popped the hood, unscrewed the top and checked the level. Low and behold it wasn't just in need of a jiggle but indeed in need of more coolant. If it wasn't already evident I am NOT inclined to knowledge of vehicle maintenance but knowing the colour of coolant needed to top it up made me feel like a million freaking bucks. Like kind of a smart, sexy, independent woman... whose mum had to tell her to check the levels. It's the same feeling I get when I figured out how to reset the garb-orator and when i discover a solution to something that works out just right. It's the same feeling I get in a pair of heels with my hair done up. It's that feeling when I drop into something really great, skiing or otherwise.

Who knew coolant could be bliss?

- Oh yeah, Alberta Bound tomorrow. Couldn't be happier.

And seconds til now you still loved who I am.

There is magic in connection. It could be an instant friendship, perhaps never much time invested but a re-ocurring light when you meet, again and again. It could be a spark in conversation, like you've known someone longer than the few minutes you have been in a room with them. Like there's more being said than the words bantered across the table. It could be a long standing bond. Something that clicked years ago and just re-clicks time and time again, like getting on a bike in warm winds of spring, like stepping into ski bindings on a fine late November morning. You never lose the feeling.

I remember walking into the lululemon athletica in Banff a little less than 2 years ago. Instantly, when I met her, I knew there was something. A connection. Friends, long lost across time and space. She walked me around the store, told me what a gift it was to work there, under the mountains. A few months later I was there too. Folding hoodies and stretchy pants right along side her. It was only for a short while though. She was off to see the world and I was heading back to the city. Not cut out for Banff's transient lifestyle. For some reason we stayed in vague touch when I let go of so many others.

Low and behold we ended up in the same place at the same time again, easily bumping into each other as you do in a small town. Reconnecting and drawing parallels from our travels and choices. Finding joy in each other's successes. Our chat over coffee could have lasted much longer than it did but truly re-connecting was not in need of more time. I simply sat in the bliss of listening to the wonderful and joyous adventure of her past year, hearing what came up for me, tales of long lost love and of nostalgic summers gone by. What a great way to spend an evening.

One such memory was that of being a camper at a summer camp in BC. I was devastated when a summer would end and I would fear losing the amazing people I had connected with. After many late Augusts of tears and of clinging to any reminders of that time by the water I came to realize something. People who we connect with in our lives for a time, for a reason. If they are meant to be around forever they will keep turning up. They will be around no matter how far we stray from them. If they aren't, then they were simply supposed to be around while they were and no longer. This is the magic of connection. It tends to find us when we aren't looking, simply when we are open to it.