On the recommendation of my English teacher, I'm reading Wild by Cheryl Strayed. And I'm totally loving it. I have this streak of outdoorsy-ness from growing up near the mountains, and whenever I read it I find myself planning my next backpacking adventure. Why not do Zions in October, when I've got a 10 day break. Or maybe Sam and I could go down to Patagonia at Christmas for a week or two. And I'd really like to do NOLS Australia backpacking and sea kayaking this summer. I really am going to miss the mountains and hiking.
Anyway, along with appealing to every backpacking-fiber in my body, this book is beautiful and touching and excellent. Probably my best read this summer. I love this part:
Each night the black sky and the bright stars were my stunning companions; occasionally I'd see their beauty and solemnity so plainly that I'd realize in a piercing way that my mother was right. That someday I would be grateful and that in fact I was grateful now, that I felt something growing in me that was strong and real.
I've been writing a lot lately - blogging, journaling, and poetry mostly - and I've found myself going over the past year again and again. I think it's about wanting to know where I'm at before I start again. When I look at this past year - look at the bad, ugly, and terrifying as well as the beautiful, good, and growing - I feel like that. Like something strong and real came into me this past year; something that I will need and rely on in the upcoming year. Last night this is what I wrote in my journal: In the end, all is well... because I unmoored then grounded myself; because I messed up then shot for the stars; because in the midst of feeling totally alone, I found those who deeply, sincerely, tenderly care for me, probably more than I deserve; because I started to understand how to be my parents' daughter; because I found creative writing, and that saved me; because there is quiet character and strength that come from doing hard things. This year built something inside me that I needed. Strong and real.