Hermit Abroad

Traveler / Writer / Coffee enthusiast

[hermitabroad]

A collection of short stories, musings, and poems.

Stories from a world beyond the veil. Enjoy your journey in. -V. 

[tycheantiques]

Antique postcard, undated.

[literaryglamour]

[nenthe]

[etoilusm]

If your compassion does not include yourself, it is incomplete.

[neonkontra]

[hermitabroad]

Well world, I tried. I underestimated how difficult things would be physically and emotionally out here while injured. Physically I am exhausted from trekking far distances on crutches and good lord my armpits are sore. Emotionally I am also exhausted. Being injured is already a difficult and new experience for me. I am fiercely independent and not being able to do things easily for myself has been extremely taxing. I’m having trouble accepting my injury and giving myself the time to heal. It’s especially hard out here where all I want to do is go hiking or kayaking or be out and about or just doing. Sitting still here is a very difficult thing. I’m frustrated with people who look at me with pity and so help me if I hear another What happened? Are you okay? I may have to knock out someone’s knees with this boot. I know that people are concerned, but also people are just nosy. What makes it even harder is the knowledge that were I a guy I wouldn’t get half so many pitying stares. Of course it’s hard, of course it hurts, but I’m okay. I am surviving and doing pretty damn well if you ask me. And another thing, I can get my own door! If I have another hand swoop in last minute to get the door for me I just may beat them with my crutch.

All in all, I have to do what is best for my health, physical and mental, and right now I know that that is coming home. I am beyond sad, I am heartbroken to be leaving, but there is no point in pushing myself through this experience if it will not grow from it. My recovery time is 8-10 weeks which is the majority of my time left here. I came here to explore, to grow, to be outside and see new things. Unfortunately, with this injury I am limited to work and quite literally my backyard. I have been so fortunate to have had the time that I had here. The past two months in the Tetons have truly been an experience of a lifetime and I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. However, I know when I have been beaten. This is a small diversion, and I am glad to be coming home where I can heal and recuperate and maybe plan my next adventure. I will always be grateful for my time here, and I know that I will be back soon. The mountains have marked me, and to them I must return. We can’t choose what happens to us, but we can choose how to react and decide how to move forward. So here’s to forward motion on whatever path we forge.

[hermitabroad]

Le brouillard

[hermitabroad]

“I have heard what the talkers were talking, the talk of the   beginning and the end But I do not talk of the beginning or the end. There was never any more inception than there is now, Nor any more youth or age than there is now, And will never be any more perfection than there is now, Nor any more heaven or hell than there is now.

Urge and urge and urge, Always the procreant urge of the world.”

Song of Myself, Walt Whitman

[hermitabroad]

I don’t know if you knew but there is a town here and they have an authentic french cafe and it is heaven. 

[hermitabroad]

Life is incomplete without reflection. 

[hermitabroad]

“COULD I but ride indefinite,  As doth the meadow-bee, And visit only where I liked,  And no man visit me,

And flirt all day with buttercups,           And marry whom I may, And dwell a little everywhere,  Or better, run away

With no police to follow,  Or chase me if I do,          Till I should jump peninsulas  To get away from you,—

I said, but just to be a bee  Upon a raft of air, And row in nowhere all day long,           And anchor off the bar,— What liberty! So captives deem  Who tight in dungeons are.”

Emily Dickinson 

[hermitabroad]

I’m dedicating today to honesty, to being honest with myself and to pursue being honest with others. The thing is, honesty can be tricky. It’s not always about “telling the truth”. Sometimes we aren’t honest with ourselves about the things we want, the people we want to be, or what it is that our hearts truly desire. Sometimes we aren’t honest with the people we meet or the people we love because we are trying to be something for them that isn’t ourselves. Sometimes honesty is a blur in the margins of the words we speak or don’t speak – a disconnect between our actions and our intentions.

Honesty is difficult. It’s hard to admit to ourselves that maybe we aren’t where we want to be or that experiences are something other than what we expected them to be. Before I came to Wyoming I expected this adventure to be one of escape and self-discovery, and it is to an extent. I’m free to hike, and to explore, and to meet new people and try new things, but it’s easy to get lost in exploration and to forget the path you were walking all together. I’ve found myself straying far from my intended path, getting caught up in people and perspective. It’s difficult living in a dorm where you’re surrounded by people all the time: people with different cultures, different expectations, and different lifestyles. It’s difficult not to feel overwhelmed by their desires and to get lost and assume that those must be your desires as well. It’s difficult because we want to push ourselves. Because we want to try those new things and gain that perspective but if I’ve learned anything in life it’s that it’s all about balance. Balancing who I was with who I am with who I want to become. It’s hard because there are all these facets to ourselves and how do we decide who we are to other people? How can I show a part of myself and hide others while maintaining that honesty?

Honestly, I’m feeling very far out. Far out from others and far off from the world and far off from where it is that I want to go. Don’t get me wrong, I love Wyoming. I love the mountains and the way they watch over me, like they’re waiting for me to figure it out. They know I’ll get there and I know I will too. The Tetons make me think of all my life and all the life I’ve yet to live. They tower over the land like a lighthouse calling me in from the sea. It’s challenging to maintain who you are when everything you are is somewhere else. It’s hard not to wish for home where we all have our set roles, where we are daughters or sons, sisters or brothers, the friend that’s good at figuring out technology or who’s the worst at driving. It’s hard to not have people know who you are and to have to show them starting from scratch. 

Honesty. I’m finding that It’s harder than I ever knew, but I’m also finding that I feel that way in part of fear. I don’t want to fear who I am anymore, nor other people’s opinions or assumptions about me. Their thoughts are not who I am. I am me, always and imperfectly me. I’m discovering that like honesty, identity is much more complicated than I ever knew, but I’m figuring it out. We can root ourselves in things we trust to keep us from flying too far off. I am a daughter, a sister, and a friend. I am a writer, an avid reader and a runner. I am a music fiend and a coffee fanatic. I am a girl with thoughts and passion that transcend the boundaries of gender and sex. I am human and imperfect and striving and here. I am here.

[hermitabroad]

It’s about to storm. The skies are grey and rain is already making its way down the window panes. Tall and slender figures – pine and evergreen- bent to the will of air. It is calm right now but I suspect it will pick up soon.

I’ve had writer’s anxiety for a while, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking and not a lot of writing. I’m realizing many things but there’s no need to list them here. They’ll come to light soon enough.

There’s nothing in the world that feels so lovely as a storm. The air is renewing. The world post storm makes me wish that I could rain, rain inside the corners of my mind and in my soul and leave behind fresh earth and the scent of petrichor. I could build a house inside a storm, build my walls around the cracks of thunder and nestle myself into a bed of heavy clouds; heart beat and rain patter to sing me to sleep.

Storms have a bit of magic in them, they stir the air and cast the world into a subtler hue, like fog. Thunder’s roll holds promise of fury and of passion – split the world in two. When was the last time you stood outside and properly enjoyed a storm? Lifted your face to the pouring sky, bent like the trees to the howling wind or felt thunder in your chest? Let it shake you, change you, heal you? I could not forget a city where I’ve experienced a storm. I remember how every one of them felt. Rain pattering on the pale green copper stairs of the neighbor’s patio, stained with red streaks that matched the brick of my apartment in Rome. Windows open facing the ever changing skyline of Lyon, from pink to purple to blue like a raging tide my hands were outstretched catching raindrops from the falling sea. Standing tip toe over the balcony to fetch water for my basil plant in Lexington.

A storm is something different everywhere. Calming, assuring, desperate and raging; each of them felt with some part of myself that connects primitively and passionately with the sky. Storm on and clear this mind and body.

I wish that I could feel every moment as deeply and fully as the last. That I could always remember exactly the way that things were so that I could revisit them. I wish that I could live inside the storm. Inside of a lighthouse where church bells toll and where we feel all the things that others are too afraid to feel and we can breathe and know we’re safe. Nothing can hurt us, time cannot touch us here. I’ll meet you there. We’ll wrap ourselves in blankets and speak only to the sea. We’ll occupy our time with only good things and everything will be just. We’ll raise honeybees. All straight and in order, in a house made of storms.

[hermitabroad]

Today goes to the small things. Today I awoke to the flurry of snow and sipped hot tea in the company of a good book. Today I listened to Edith Piaf and practiced reciting the lyrics. Today I was reminded of my time in France – Hemingway has a knack for doing that. Today I found a spot in the forest to dance and stretched out upon the fresh earth. Today I made friends, and coffee, and progress towards becoming who I want to be. Today I traded recipes with the stranger across the dinner table, and found that I don’t have to be anything other than myself to accomplish my goals. In fact, it is the only thing I need to be. I am in search of my place in this world and I am finding it to be wherever I step. Today I am eager for tomorrow, and to see where these footprints take me.

[hermitabroad]

Yesterday I went exploring and discovered a bit of my backyard. I hiked along the hills just beyond Jackson Lake and gazed for a while at the mountains and the plains. I realized then that I have never looked at something quite that way. My eyes were my binoculars as I searched the brush and forest for wildlife. I came across a herd of elk in the distance, soaking up the sun on a patch of green pasture. I listened to the sound of water trickle and rush along the stream that cuts the field. I eavesdropped on the chatter of the birds and watched them fly overhead, though not so high as I am accustomed to, being half way up a mountain and all.

I would walk five feet along the trail, weary of the rocks and even more so of the flowers. Being here I am learning to tread gently. The mountains drew my gaze upward, it seemed without permission. The mountains demanded my attention. We are audiences to this world and I am an eager attendant.

It is quiet in the forest, and yet there is much to hear if you listen; to the birds and to the water and to the wind blowing softly through the trees which resonates through you like a gentle hum. One could believe they were the only creature out there – the only creature of their kind. They would be wrong of course, but still it is a lovely image. There is calm here in the bustle of things. So much life and yet the world seems still when really we are moving steady with the current.

I think of fireflies dancing in a jar, only without a jar and the freedom to choose where they may go and still they dance here. They will fly off in time to dance other dances in other places but for now they remain – for now I will remain – here.

[hermitabroad]

La Vie Française

Bonjour tout le monde!

You’ll see below I’ve posted some new photos from recent adventures. I’m sorry I haven’t been posting frequently. When I first arrived in Lyon i intended to write much more than I am now. But being honest, It’s been difficult to find the time and inspiration to blog when there is so much going on here in Lyon. I absolutely adore this city. I love everything from going to the market and wondering the streets of Vieux Lyon to the nights I spend in my dorm just reading. I am fortunate to have already made so many amazing and dear friends with whom I’m able to talk, play, and travel with. I’ve become really close with a few of the girls in my USAC program and also to have made a few french friends. Every day here has been so full of joy and laughter. I couldn’t have asked for a more amazing or rewarding experience thus far! Before I arrived I was terrified of feeling alone but my friends and professors and the city itself has welcomed me in with open arms. I truly feel that I am in a place where I can grow and I cannot express how excited I am to spend the next three months of my life here learning, laughing, and exploring. Thanks for reading, à bientôt!

[hermitabroad]

St. Romain-en-Gal, Vienne