ojovivo
will byers stan first human second
Jules of Nature
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Misplaced Lens Cap
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Keni
YOU ARE THE REASON
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
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tannertan36
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almost home
we're not kids anymore.
Cosimo Galluzzi
Stranger Things
Cosmic Funnies
Xuebing Du
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@20andsomething
Over the last year and a half though, I have encountered moments, many actually, that serve as evidence that I am not actually trapped inside of a washing machine. Evidence that with enough diligence and patience this too can be flow. Evidence that one day the memories will come up and instead of drowning me I will say 'we have been here before, we are just passing through.'
FLOW
Flow
Change is weird. In real life it never happens like those grow your own dinosaur sponges. You don’t just soak yourself in water overnight and become something that makes sense.
You don’t notice it happening as it really is either. It tends to manifest as this period of breaking down and painfulness without an obvious end, then all of the sudden you notice that something is different and you are that thing. Hurt takes a backseat just long enough for a feeling of satisfaction to emerge, only if you’re paying enough attention to notice it. Then, seemingly out of nowhere you’re back to the beginning, onto another change.
That’s really the only way I can make sense of the cycle of changing I’ve been stuck in the last few years. It’s not a bad cycle to be going through, especially if you can notice it and maybe become a little bit more gracious with each pass through.
Rebecca is one of the reasons I am grateful to be less intimidated by other women than I was a few years ago. She is a yoga teacher, she is strong and she has great taste in music. I stumbled into her class just on time saturday morning to find her talking about cycles. She seems to always have just the right medicine. I latched onto the intention of noticing how the flow changed each time through. The changes were far more dramatic than I anticipated. There was an increased magnitude of both effort and ease that was built into each pass through. Just through the course of a few minutes harsh, contrived, shaky movements became simply flowing. “Plant both hands on the mat, left hand up, simple twist. We’ve been here before, just passing through.” Her words, the movement and the foggy San Francisco Bay morning awaiting us outside built a moment of comfort and stillness amidst a much bigger, more painful cycle of change I’ve been moving through.
Much like with each vinyasa, that bigger cycle feels a little more like flowing with each go ‘round. That bigger cycle in my own life is something about feeling worthy after being convinced otherwise. Something about a person supposed to teach you about being loved handing you shame and manipulation. It took me nineteen years of repetition just to notice. Not to change, just to notice. For a long time it felt like being trapped in a washing machine on the heavy duty cycle. Waiting for the water to rise above my nose, for the soap to burn my eyes. I’m spinning, waiting for it either to turn off or for me to just drown. Never knowing which I’d rather have. It always turns off though, just long enough to take a few breaths and start again.
Over the last year and a half though, I have encountered moments, many actually, that serve as evidence that I am not actually trapped inside of a washing machine. Evidence that with enough diligence and patience this too can be flow. Evidence that one day the memories will come up and instead of drowning me I will say “we have been here before, we are just passing through.”
I may not be there yet, but the idea that I am on my way is hopeful enough. Drawing blood has turned into asking for a hug. Dissociating has turned into asking to sit a little bit closer. Silence has turned into whispers, even if they’re not always audible. Pretending has turned into honesty. Safety in isolation has become comfort in closeness.
@twloha
"Among other things you'll find that you're not the first person who was ever confused and frightened and even sickened by human behavior. You're by no means alone on that score." -the catcher in the rye #holdencaulfield Photo: @deeeanny
Life lesson of the last few weeks. Nothing is easy. Not this V0 mantle, not getting into school, sometimes not even getting out of bed in time for your favorite yoga class. But I keep trying anyway. #climbing #bouldering #struggle Photo credit @deeeanny and his fancy phone.
The first rough day in a long time is especially bittersweet.
Over the last two months I’ve had more good days in a row than I have in my whole life. It wasn’t easy to welcome anxiety, shame and self doubt back into my life. If I’ve learned anything about how to deal with this its to accept it with open arms. Fighting it is just fighting myself. Yes, the bad thoughts are here, but I can balance the out with good memories. I can be here with the shitty thoughts and still be alright. I’ll have better days.
Don’t ever tell anybody anything. If you do, you start missing everybody.
J.D Salinger (via story-dj)
My first trad lead on napsack crack 5.5 on hogsback in strawberry, ca. Climbing has taught me to be patient with myself. I could be ashamed that I'm only climbing 5.5 right now, or I can be stoked that I had great gear placement and composure on my first trad lead. This sport has something new to offer me every second of every day. Whether I'm navigating a total mental and physical breakdown with my one day boyfriend on the side of half dome under a setting sun, chatting with a neighbor at a campsite over a shared guidebook or watching a nine year old school me on a project. Climbing has given me relationships, challenges, successes, lots of humbling, a job and a newfound sense of respect for my body. One of the worst years of my life brought me this wild hobby, so I get to be grateful.
Only at a place like Camp Krem do madness, borderline tragedy, love and joy coexist so intimately and graciously. We’re only half way through the first session and we’ve said some sad goodbyes, navigated conflict and made too many hospital visits, but we’ve also danced for hours, hugged, cried happy tears and worked really really hard. We’re doing good things on this hill and I am so grateful to get to be a part of it all.
What’s even wilder than working in such an incredible environment, is the opportunity to be completely mentally and emotionaly present. To not be distracted by life outside of “right now.”
Roll on summer.
Awe...
When expectations are shattered,
when change becomes graceful rather than painful.
It’s “I never knew it could be like this,”
after years of “this is how it is.”
It tunes heartstrings,
releasing notes of resilience.
Awe is strangers becoming friends,
steps becoming journeys,
conversations making us known,
vulnerability protecting us from ever being alone.
Sometimes we climb things for the journey, sometimes for the summit.
Other times we do it because we’re with people who inspire us to reach the top. We do it because we have someone we trust to catch us if we fall.
We do it for camping in strangers backyards, cheap motels, grandma’s houses, hearty breakfasts, kisses and friendships.
Climbings given me a lot in the last year.
Photo by #travelbrag
Sometimes, you’re too tired to climb very hard, so you climb into a hammock. I’d like to call it the ultimate bail option off a route.
Getting in was also like a segment off Legends of the Hidden Temple.
Navigating lame days 101: "You cannot stay on the summit forever; you have to come down again. So why bother in the first place? Just this: What is above knows what is below, but what is below does not know what is above. One climbs, one sees. One descends, one sees no longer, but one has seen. There is an art of conducting oneself in the lower regions by the memory of what one saw higher up. When one can no longer see, one can at least still know." -René Daumal
Experiencing Half Dome from the comfort of a sunny a raft is quite a contrast from the summit at midnight on a cold spring night.
This is how it feels to be new. Maybe not even to be new, but to be present. To no longer be burdened by ancient trauma. To be twenty, in your underwear, on the Merced River in Yosemite.
Built an anchor by myself for the first time today! It's so rad to see my self getting stronger and more knowledgable little by little every day. Can't wait to see what the future holds for me.
