Around Us, from Jónsi’s album, "Go"

A little bit of inspiration from Iclandic folks: 

"We all want to grow with the seeds we will sow

We all want to go with the trees we will grow

We all want to know when we're all meant to 

go To a place you and I - Will call home"

I like Sigur Rós, mostly because they got away with making up their own language. 

Maybe one day my mind, and perhaps this  

blog, will abandon English altogether and 

adapt Hopelandic-communicating in only 

sighs and emotions. 

I can hope, right?

So, here's just their front-man taking off on his own. 

First heard music from this album on the slideshow that was put together by family and friends for our wedding (Thanks go to N for pushing some good music through), and it's definitely a change from my attraction to dark, and quite depressing music. 

When I listen to this song, and album, I can't help but smile.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=erJNDuhM5Lc

official cover of Jónsi's album go

Work

Work, perhaps a different definition,  in Kerenge, Tanzania

"I like what is in Work - the chance to find yourself.

Your own reality -for yourself, not for others -

what no other man can ever know.

They can only see the mere show,

and never can tell what it really means."

-joseph conrad

When I was 17, just on the cusp of going off to college, I had a very clear identity set out for myself. 

I fell into two explicitly defined categories, that were easy to communicate and convey to people when they inquired about the direction I was headed in. 

"I'm going to college to play basketball, and I'm going to study biology to become a doctor." 

I had decided that, although I wanted to play professionally, either in the US or abroad, going to medical school was a longer term investment, the impetus to a path that would be fulfilling, meaningful, purposeful and rewarding.
 Playing basketball was my passion, becoming a doctor was my dream. And I was hell bent on doing both. Funny how dreams and passions change. I still love basketball, and miss, severely, the training part of it. I miss the everyday grind. As a young kid, my schedule was so jam-packed, I never really had time to think about what it all meant. My sights were clear, and I loved what I was doing. In college, the path changed. I gave up a full scholarship, focused on school, worked in a research lab, joined the model UN, met some new people and had a more balanced existence, slowly, I started to have more time, dictated by myself. 

And I filled up those spaces, the void, with things I was interested in, like writing for the newspaper, or working at a cultural center. The dreams of playing professionally dwindled, and I was okay with it. But there was, and still is, a void, that I still try to fill. 

My dream of becoming a doctor has also dwindled, so right now, I'm sort of at this place where I've never been before. With a future that scares the shit out of me. Because I don't know what "profession" I fit into. 

As a species-humans, we try so hard, to organize ourselves and others. So much so, just as we try to organize our worlds, that one word, can carry so many connotations. I am a doctor-means so much. Not only does it tell others what we spend our time doing, it give them insight into personality, motivations, aspirations, values, choices, or a least that's what it tells them in their minds. 

But if, for instance, like right now in my life, I were to answer the question, 

"what do you do"

with avoiding the question all together by launching into a long-winded blast asking the person why it matters so much to quantify and qualify my existence and my value by what I "do",  then, of course, that person and I will be faced with the uncomfortable silence that inevitably ensues, and an attempt to avoid any further conversation by saying something like,

 "well, how about them Giants." 

I guess I'm still stumped by that identity, or ego, I suppose, in conversation. And if I were to become all hippy dippy, I would try to justify to myself, and others by taking the Zen approach, and say, happiness is only found when you have peace within yourself, regardless of outward expectations. And of course, I'd feel good about saying it, because let's face it, I am a little hippy dippy, but I can't say I'm all that Zen. 
I cling to the words, but haven't quite been able to put them into practice, if I could I'd be a much better person. 

I guess I'm still trying to find a purposeful statement of identity. 

That fits. 

That I'm comfortable with. 

Sure it's ego.

Sure its not Zen.

But it is me. 

Then I think about all the people who don't have to define "Work", and who have lives that don't allow for the luxury of such thoughts and conversations, who do work simply to live. And then I think about what a jerk I am. Middle-class suburbia, the problems of us 20-something's who came from families where we had the freedom to explore these questions. And who are now in this same place-not being forced to follow a certain path, but have too many choices, or were told we have all these choices. 

That's another topic, though....

Maybe I should look back to Conrad's definition of work, and take those words and put them in practice. 

Because if Work is, 

"the chance to find yourself-your own reality, for yourself-not for others" 

then this identity in conversation isn't really about fitting a single word; it's more about finding yourself, or reinventing yourself, or connecting with those around you. 

And maybe people bringing up the questions provides an opportunity to put everything into context, and reflect on the present, without worrying too much about the future. 

And maybe the question will lead to follow up questions. 

And the answers don't matter so much.

 I'll try to remember this the next time someone asks me "what do you do." 

Liminal Bliss

Jacob and I in a horse-drawn carriage, traveling the streets of downtown St. Paul on our wedding night. Just one example of the many acts of kindness we received from friends and family. 

I'm going to write down a few personal thoughts on this weekend, while that feeling of heightened emotion is still fresh. This was one of the most mind-blowing, intense, and tender weekends I can remember. I was left profoundly grateful for family and friends, for those who were there, but also for those who weren't, whom reside in the memories of my heart.

There were, of course, moments leading up to the wedding where I wondered what it was going to be like. I was nervous what the merging of two new families would feel like, how the hodgepodge of personalities would interact, how I would feel sharing such an exposed and vulnerable part of myself, up there for everyone to see. I didn't sleep the night before the wedding. Jacob and I were staying in the bedroom I spent my formative years in, which I shared with my sister, looking out to the same weeping willow I looked out to as a young girl. I was in a bed in the room that was the same, yet so different from when I was making those transitionary steps toward becoming a person, and it was poignant. The realness of it hit me hard in the stomach. I imagine it to be the same sort of feeling people get when they get “cold feet”, which typically starts a chain of doubt in the decision to spend the rest of your life with someone. It was a bit different for me, in how it was manifested. I looked at Jacob, and had no shed of doubt that I wanted to be with him for as long as I'm on this planet; but I glanced over to the closet that was the same closet I used as a child, with a large, very long, ivory dress draped over it, smothering that closet, and my heart of hearts sank to the depths of my soul. I put all of my doubtful thoughts into that dress. Jacob woke up, and looked over at me, and saw the trepidation and asked, “what's wrong?” 
“That dress is so F*cking BIG!!!!!”

The practical and rational part of me was happy that my doubts were directed at that overwhelming dress. There was the part of me that knew it was just nerves and anticipation of something that I tried to minimize prior to that night. There was also the part of me that knew how real it was, what it all meant. Because, of course there were the sort of distasteful elements of weddings present at one point or another along the way, but these were offset by the beauty that exists when people you love shower you with joy and kindness in their desire to celebrate with you. I guess I wasn't really prepared for all the underserved acts of kindness from friends and family. I wasn't prepared to face all the time and energy, blood, sweat and tears, that were shed for us. I guess, it was simply inspiring. And I still feel a bit suspended in that liminal state.

There were so many beautiful moments, that I can't name them all; but a few stick out in my head. One moment, that is so raw and tender, and representative of how a father feels when his daughter gets married, is when I watched my dad on his computer playing the video of me as an overly impressionable 8-year-old when he told me there were vampires. Of course he played that after the ceremony. But when he was quietly watching in his study, when no one else was around, I glimpsed, for a moment, what it must feel like for him.

I also really enjoyed setting up the backyard, before the ceremony. There was that feeling of a place when no one has yet sit in it. When the electricity of human emotions hasn't yet run through; only the anticipation of what could come, and it's a serenity, permeating.

The best part of the wedding was promising to Jacob, promising to stay with him until I die. Promising not just to love and be loved, but to continue along the path with him-this was one of the most beautiful things I've done to date. It's not all rosy, shiny, and certainly, that promise isn't always going to be pretty and fun; but it's beautiful. In a real, and gut wrenching way. In a really really big way. I guess that's why a wedding is just so f**king huge, no matter how small you try to keep it.

So perhaps that's why there is the fear of a sort of meteor shower at weddings. When emotions are high, sparks will fly. But there is also an overarching simple joy, coming full circle, coming Home. The only thing I'm left with is how beautiful it was to share this special, liminal time, with people I love and deeply cherish. It feels more real, this commitment and promise I've been living.

And, I did end up loving that dress. 


Also, I'll be posting the text of our ceremony for anyone who is interested, I wrote most of it, and Jacob and I each wrote our vows individually. More pictures up shortly. 

September Come

Brinn picking Tomatoes at Live Earth Farm. Winner of the Sept. cutie patuty award:)

Sunflowers at Life Earth Farm, a family-run CSA, organic farm overlooking the Parjaro Valley in Santa Cruz

September, here you are. Beckoning with a fresh slate, a new beginning. Summer months gone with that lingering bitter/sweet scent of careless abandonment, playful innocence with open eyes, and dancing hearts. Summer months gone, and we start new. And my theme for starting new this coming September, is all about becoming. Feet on the ground, life lived best when it's fully ripe. September comes with the promises of a season full of becoming. Here's to becoming. 

  

Dear Life

Dear Life,

I'm going to stop chasing after you, and then try to scare you away. Because I know you are there no matter what I do. I'm going to stop trying to grasp and mold you to my own ends. Like sand through the hand, I'll keep an open palm. I'm going to stop complaining about all the things you haven't done for me lately. I've joined the ranks of the unemployed, officially, and I'm not going to place blame on you for that. I'm going to stop saying how unfair you are. Like my dad always said, you just aren't fair, and that's the truth. I see you have a pretty tough job, lot's of people throwing their shit in your face when things don't go their way. Yeah, I wouldn't want to be you. So I'll try to have more empathy for you.

And, Life, by the way, I am grateful. I'm grateful for the fact that you keep going in all the little nooks and crevices that we can't see, that you start and you end, but you always start again. And I'm grateful for the beautiful things you share with me. I'll try to be a better friend. I'll try to listen to you without hearing the sound of my own voice. I'll try to love you, even when I hate you.

Guess I just needed to get that off my chest.

Ok,

Thanks for listening,

Kit

Probing the NANO

Picture of a carbon nanotube using a Scanning Electron Microscope: with capabilities of resolutions down to 1 nm


"Curiouser and curiouser," cried Alice in Lewis Carroll's Alice's Adventures in Wonderland

Last week I was at a conference at Stanford that brought 15 science educators together to learn and explore the world of nanotechnology. I had a few experiences in the past where I felt like I dropped down a rabbit hole into a bewildering land that I was unfamiliar with. One such experience that fits so vividly in my memory is when I was first dropped off in a rural village in Tanzania.

Listening to graduate students who had designed and used instruments that not only image atoms, but are able to manipulate them and the properties and forces within and between them, was humbling to say the least. Their enthusiasm was contagious, and they'd be going on and on about the exciting possibilities of discovering room-temperature superconductors, speaking in a puzzling language that sounded like English, but somehow wasn't. Although I could pin a meaning to practically every word they used, I didn't understand anything they said, or how those words connected to each other in a practical everyday use. I was as lost as any accidental tourist, wandering aimlessly in a very foreign country. It was disconcerting, yet invigorating.

There was a noted difference in the communication abilities between the faculty and their graduate students. Most of the PI's were well versed in the world of formal presentations, published papers, and public outreach where they constantly had to explain, defend, and evaluate their work to a myriad of different audiences. Thus, they were able to display the human sides of their work. However when we were speaking with the graduate students, in the throes of their work, the things that were missing among the rows of austere symbols and lines of dense type and barely legible mathematical formulas projected on the screens of their powerpoint presentations was what their work is all about-how and where their individual piece fit in the overall fabric in nanotechnology.

To the outsider, in this case, a few science teachers, nanotechnology represents unknown territory. It's borders are heavily protected by dense thickets of technical terms, and it's landscapes are strewn with cryptic equations and inscrutable concepts. I felt like I was digging to find the provocative ideas and useful notions.

I did find a few groups that were doing work I had a vested interest in. I skimmed through the physics lectures with a benign appreciation; but when a group came in to talk about using Atomic Force Microscopy to map, manipulate, and eventually simulate transmembrane cellular proteins I was intrigued. My undergraduate work was in cell biology, studying a particular transmembrane protein that was involved in cell migration, and proliferation: in our lab we said we were studying cancer. Well, these guys have been able to build probes using inorganic materials in order to interact with and identify where certain receptors lie on that area that protects the cell from the outside world; the cell membrane. They've been able to take pictures of this area that I could only imagine before. I was excited, like a little kid.

I came out of the conference with newfound friends, and a rekindled desire to probe deeper into the world of science. Maybe grad school one day? I don't know. But it was certainly stimulating.

We be-Trail Angels

… trail dust is thicker’n blood
~ Louis L’Amou

June 24-June 26, 2010

Leavitt Meadows-Fremont Lake-Cascade Falls-Hidden Lake-Out, Trailhead located about 5 miles east of Sonora Pass in Humboldt-Toyabe National Forest.

Total distance: 27 miles

Jacob and I went into the Pinecrest Ranger Station in Stanislaus National Park without knowing where we wanted to go. Our intention was to get into the Emigrant Wilderness for a couple of nights, and see if it was a possible refuge away from Yosemite. Turns out this place is a quiet oasis, away from the crowds, and walah. You can get away from people in one walking day. Helped that we left during week, missing the weekend crowds.

After getting our permit and a topo, we drove to the trailhead, in Humboldt-Toyabe National Forest, just east of Stanislaus at Leavitt Meadows- which is just off the 108 past Sonora Pass a few miles. Just before the entrance to the trailhead were, none other than a couple of hitchhikers- very very dirty hitchhikers. I saw the beards from about a mile away. I had just been asking Jacob if he thought we'd run into a couple of thru-hikers, and low and behold, there they were. A couple of angels, just waiting to be picked up. There were three of them. The tanned/dirty faces, scraggly beards, and full packs were a clear give-away. I looked at Jacob and was like "They're PCT hikers!!! Stop, we have to talk to them!" With star-studded eyes, and celebrity-awe, I asked them if they were on the trail. "Yeah, we're trying to get into Bridgeport. Can you give us a ride?" Man. I really wanted to. "No, sorry, we're going in here. Would love to if we could." After some brief pleasantries, we went into park. As we started to head toward the trail, Jacob looked at me and said, "you think we should give them the truck into town?" Without hesitation, and with enthusiasm, I said, "Yeah! They could just take it for the night, bring it back, and leave the keys in the back. No problem!" We looked at each other for maybe a second. In that second I think we were both trying to assess how crazy that is to give someone our truck. The second passed. And that was it. They needed to get to town. We were going to be in their shoes in about, well, less than a year. "You wanna just take the truck?" "REALLY? Are you serious?" "yeah, we'll be out for a couple of days, you guys need to get into town. Just bring it back in one piece." "Wow, yeah, you guys are awesome." Doing something nice for other people does make you feel good. I had that lovely butterfly feeling in my stomach. Being a trail angel is neat. I guess this helped me realize how much I miss being apart of a community of people who actually trust each other. Sure you may not always like the people in the community, but there's a network of people who aren't only caught up in themselves. College gave me a built in community-through basketball, through my major.  Peace Corps gave me a very unique community, with an ingrained sense of mutual purpose and direction. It's been hard to find that in a big city upon return. It's been hard for me to get outside of my cocoon. And the fact that I live with someone going through a similar readjustment process makes it less of an incentive to make the effort to connect with people. I used to be much more gregarious. Before living in Africa, I would go out of my way to connect with people, with anyone actually. Upon reentry into the US I've been much more hesitant, and closed. This trail magic has instilled a new-found sense of hope.  It gives me hope in the backpacking world-that trail dust IS thicker than blood. The mountains aren't forgiving, or relenting. But people are.

Jacob and I started our journey into the woods light-footed, ready to enjoy the bliss around us. We went into that Range of Light with full-hearts, knowing we were able to help out a few other travelers on their path. A path we want to be on in about a year. So, here's for being a trail angel. And here's to Beaker, Lakewood, and Mike (I forgot his trail name.)- Thanks for bringing the truck back, thanks for allowing me to enter your community, if for a passing moment. And thanks for the beer. It was delicious!

I really can't wait to be on the trail.