a space where i post stuff
writing, music, videos, snowboarding, unfinished work and half baked ideas... hell, i might even post some cocktail recipes on here one day.
other creations and stories can be found -
a work in progress :)
A profound sweetness lies somewhere beyond hardship and traumatic times.
~ Peace, gratitude; love and laughter. A deep breath underneath the morning sunshine; a hug from my mother, or a kiss from the woman I love. ~
Unknowingly, there seems to be an energy gained from pain that is later felt amongst all things good, as the clouds part and presence returns. What is inherently sweet, is a whole lot sweeter after you’ve only tasted bitterness for a while.
~ And the minty smell of Giant Hyssop lofting in an afternoon breeze. And Snow King battling fast-moving fog above town square in the early morning. Listening to my brother give a toast to one of our best friends and his wife at their wedding. ~
The past couple years have been indescribably hard for me. An array of wildly challenging and heart-breaking experiences beat me into a space that disrupted everything in my existence. Trauma has been described as, “too much, too fast, too soon, or too long”, and I experienced hardship in every form of that. Immense anxiety shattered any level of certainty or knowing of myself. The things that made me happy were in question, and I couldn’t trust my own feelings. I eventually found myself in an emotional bottleneck and I shut down, disassociated and in a haze.
~ And it's the silence with no one around below the summit of the Grand Teton. And returning home from the Grand to my lady, with a big smile on her face and a bouquet of wildflowers she picked for me. The feeling of sore legs, as a satisfying notion of a successful day in the mountains. ~
Committed to healing, feeling all there is to feel, and working through as my way out - I’ve finally started to experience feeling healed in these past few months. Healing is often referred to as a journey. For good reason, too, as it is absolutely nothing short of one. Nonlinear by nature, the first strides of clarity and happiness are continuously disrupted. A fear of regression resides within these bursts of poor mental health. But the strides get longer. And they get longer, and eventually the strides are long enough for your nervous system to really unwind. Peace and true happiness starts to creep back in. Clarity returns.
~ Riding my motorcycle in a t-shirt on a hot afternoon. Running into friends at the grocery store. Or the deafening silence of snowfall, broken by the sound of my splitboard. And hot, black coffee. God I love coffee. ~
In the past couple months, I’ve been happier than I’ve been in the past couple years. The appreciation for this happiness and all things good runs with a depth that I could have never anticipated. The smallest of things, to the most profound - I find myself noticing all of it and everything in between. Rejoicing and relishing in the stark difference, that is finally feeling more and more like me again. I can’t say if I’ve felt gratitude with the intensity that I’ve learned to feel it now. And the beautiful thing is, it’s a journey.
~ Spending a cool Thursday evening in Idaho, dancing and laughing with my love. A long mountain bike ride with Mikey, measured in distance by huckleberries eaten, overlooks passed, and airtime caught. Perfectly cooking salmon twice in a row. ~
To be continued…
thoughts of where i'm from
Some folks move to new places out of a distaste for where they're from. In Jackson, I hear of that quite a bit. those who’s lives started in urban sprawl, flatlands, or places where the weather is unpleasant. Some trying to get away from a culture, or even a stifling family.
I feel privileged for the fact that I can’t relate. Everytime I leave Virginia, it hurts. For I haven’t moved to escape anything; moreover, I have just found another home that makes me incredibly happy.
I grew up in the heart of appalachia; bouncing back and forth between my grandparents’ property in rockfish valley and with my mom in charlottesville. And as I got older, my old man found solace on flattop mountain, within a small community at 3500 feet, surrounded on most sides by shenandoah national park.
I don’t come from a whole lot of money. But I would consider us rich in other ways. My formative years were spent amongst the oldest mountains in the world, wandering through some of the most biodiverse forests in the country. My backyard was a mountain range that still leaves me in awe with every trip home.
Lush and dense; weathered and old. If you were ever wondering how many different shades of blue and green there are on the spectrum, a trip to the blue ridge mountains begs the possibility that value might be endless. Small, gin clear streams cut hollows into the mountains, where waterfalls are plentiful, and brook trout, rivaling the color of any tropical fish, are abundant. In the winter, the snow doesn’t fall nearly as hard as it once did - a testament to climate change. But the weather still supports ski resorts that inspired me to find what makes me happiest.
But most of all, the people who reside in these mountains are what i love most. I could find so many words for the landscape i was raised in, but it was those who raised me that are most important. I am so fortunate for my family, so fortunate to feel so loved and supported. So fortunate to have a place and a plethora of people that were so inspiring and foundational for who I am now, as I continue life in the Cowboy State.