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.

Imaginings

Today I imagined I was on the trail, 11 months in the future. With my pack full, carrying 20 lbs of water. Green spines poking at me, a rattle below my feet-the penetrating rays encumbering, an endless reminder of my one and only objective=walk. I start to feel the balls of my feet. I start to feel that place in between my toes where I've been rubbing the last 230 miles. And I walk. The only voice besides my own I hear is the one that is my life-partner, my best friend. Walking with me. We're 10 days in, 230 miles of a 2700 mile journey. Already crossed the line from one nation to another. And my initial euphoria fades from red to yellow. With green spikes. The water on my back, and the water trapped in the trunk of those green spikes. Politics, gone. Worrying about rent, gone. Stressing over a career, gone. The only certainty, walk into the uncertainty. With my home on my back, and my best friend by my side. And an insatiable hunger.
That's what I imagined today.
Tomorrow I come back to today. And the next day and the next. Until we get on the trail.

Kit's Top Bay Area Day Hike: Skyline to the Sea Trail in reverse.

The most accessible hike from where I'm at right now:  The Skyline to the Sea trail. 

At 34 miles, this popular hike traverses the gorgeous coastal vistas, as seen from the crest of the Santa Cruz Mountains, meandering through old-growth redwood and banana slug inhabited forests that stretches west toward the powerful Pacific Ocean.

Since we didn't have the time for the full 34 mile hike, Jacob and I decided on an easterly bound out and back; by starting at Waddell Beach, a popular kite-surfing destination 18 miles north of Santa Cruz on Highway 1. Across from the beach parking lot we began our hike. We started by weaving through a freshwater marsh that, I imagine, is a welcome refuge for migratory birds. The first few miles follows an old fire road through ranches and fields before we entered into a dense, green, riparian zone consisting of fern, wildflowers and moss; moist, calm, inviting, and peaceful as reflective of the salamander crossings we encountered. I fell into the familiar rhythm that provides the melody for good conversation. Following Waddell Creek,

we walked at a slight incline deeper into the now redwood populated canopy until we reached Berry Creek Falls, an exuberant 70 foot cascade over sandstone bluffs. Jacob and I reached this first bench mark, about 6 miles from the our starting point in the mid-morning with a full day ahead of us. Instead of continuing on the Skyline to the Sea trail, we ran into a biker that told us about a pretty offshoot that went up onto the ridge line to the highest point in the range for a view of the coast. A cold stream crossing awaited us; so we rolled up our pants, took off our shoes and socks and waded into the crisp water. The slick rock below proved to be a bit of a hurdle and took Jacob waist deep into the current. Only the blackberry Jacob carried in his pocket protested the dunk, a reminder of our looming return to civilization.

Dense riparian forest gave way to a hot, dry, and exposed ridge; something I love about California, this representative diversity. Our conversation flowed as we walked, and I relished those blissful moments of freedom; serenity. We found ourselves at the highest point on the ridge, with a vantage point that, to the west, showed us where we had come from, the pacific blue; and to the east, the Santa Cruz Mountains, over which is our current place of residence. The only thing about an out and back that I don't like is retracing your steps. With unchartered territory, it's easier to get into a rhythm, whereas backtracking causes me to become increasingly aware that the time on the trail is coming to an end. So a recommendation to anyone who is going to do this day hike; try to find a way to make it a loop. After 8 hours and 20 miles that characterized this hike with my best friend, I felt peaceful, relaxed, and although reluctant, prepared to go back and face the everyday realities of my current existence.I highly recommend this mild, accessible, and beautiful day hike.

Life's Tapestry

"The sea, once it casts its spell, holds one in its net of wonders forever."-Jacques-Yves Cousteau

The feeling that I've slowed down to a recognizable pace over this holiday break (one of the joys of teaching high school in the US=vacation) allowed me to step back, take a breath, and evaluate my current perspective. To celebrate time off from work, Jacob and I were able to a.) go out to eat with my Aunt, Uncle and beloved cousins Mitch and Alex, b.) hike into Silver Peak Wilderness, a 33,000 acre terrain characterized by the Santa Lucia Mountain range which sharply rises from the Pacific Ocean-a powerful intersecting of the land and the sea with steep cliffs of massive rock layers-humbling, foreboding, and beautiful, and, c.) visit the Monterey Bay Aquarium, and take a stroll down that legendary Cannery Row and become reacquainted with my childhood favorite author, John Steinbeck.

Much like my previous experiences driving down the 1 on the Pacific Coast, I'm in awe of the sharp, rugged, and power of this coast. It is a stark contrast to my memories on the beaches on the outerbanks of North Carolina as a child. South of Big Sur, and the Ventana Wilderness, Silver Peak lifts to 3,590 feet in the northwestern quadrant of the wilderness.

We began our hike in the southeastern quadrant right off the highway, starting through a section with thick vegetation dominated by that devil plant, poison oak. The trail was poorly maintained, and required a fair amount of bush-wacking of the Tanzania kind. Unfortunately we didn't have a machete with us-so just had to bear it and hope that the potent and illustrious antigen urushiol didn't bind to the proteins in our skin. I had a bad bout a few weeks ago, so I was particularly conscientious and intentional in my identification. We hiked into a section that gave way to desert like plants after we made it over the protective barrier from the moist fog hanging over the ocean. 10 miles in on the first day and we camped at a site, appropriately called the Lion's Den. Appropriate

because of the company we found ourselves amongst. Now, being a pacifist and an eternal optimist I guess I still harbor the naiveté of one who thinks people can meet each other on a very basic human level. And I'm still surprised to find that sometimes, beyond my control, people just aren't going to like me because of the way I look, present myself, or because of their own ingrained prejudices. Silly, but I thought, even as a former Peace Corps Hippie/Vegan I'd be able to sit down at a campfire with three young guys in army fatigues, leather boots, and a hunting rifle. Andrew, who introduced himself with a stiff-handshake and a welcoming smile, sporting a death tattoo, didn't turn out to be the nice guy that I thought he was. Even though we didn't get to singing kumbaya, we did sit around the campfire for some brief pleasantries before heading off to bed. I awoke to the sounds of drunken banter a few hours later and was face to face, once again, with the ugly reality that we humans are not very kind to each other. Thinking we were asleep the drunken army guys were plotting how they were going to show us "rich privileged kids with our thousand dollar gear" what life really was like. With references to silver platters and the like their obvious anger towards us escalated, so I finally woke Jacob up with the images of their rifle imprinted in my hazy, irrational mind. Fear is funny, and I've been in some pretty spotty positions before, but I guess I didn't expect to actually be afraid of backpacking in the US. In any case, as soon as Jacob got up to check our bags, after some vomiting, they went off into their respective tents, and I stayed awake waiting for the ambush that never came. Needless to say, we headed out of the lion's den pretty early the next day. The continued hike was on an old fire road that separated an army base from the wilderness, and gave us a lovely panoramic vantage point to view Big Sur Coastline to the North, the Pacific Ocean to the West, and the Salinas Valley to the East. After a few miles, an encounter with a horny toad, a small snake (which didn't rattle), and spiky cactus, we veered back into the lush vegetation to make a loop back toward our car. This part of the trail turned out to be stunning, with gurgling springs, waterfalls, fern-covered canyons, and meadows of grasses and wildflowers. I actually forgot about the encounter at the Lion's Den, and took time to relish in nature's wonder and embrace. Although our intention was to backpack for 3 nights, we ended up covering the entire loop we set out to do in two days, so decided to head back home with a few free days.

Thus, our trip to the Monterey Bay Aquarium. I would love the opportunity for everyone to go check out this place that seems to reconnect us, in a very real way, to the creatures that we usually don't get to see, except if you are swimming and run into the stinging tentacles of a jellyfish.

It is the human drive to explore the enigmatic, while simultaneously harboring fear for the unknown. And the creatures in the ocean represent a world foreign, alien, and more like another planet than what we recognize on land. They allow us to brush our fingertips against the unknown. While standing next to the Kelp forest, a 28 foot underwater aquarium housing a diverse array of fish and life that typically only divers get to swim with, I had a pull on my soul similar to what I feel when out in the forest. In my heart danced Rumi's words, "There is a candle in your heart, ready to be kindled. There is a void in your soul, ready to be filled. You feel it, don't you?"

It was fun to see families, kids, and adults all interacting with the world that we understand so little of, yet which makes up 75% of our planet. When we allow ourselves, as people to view life through the lens of another creature, it reminds me that some of the blessings that God, or gods, or the spirit instilled in our world are found spread throughout the natural world.

Seahorses are one of the only creatures of the animal kingdom where males have the physiological structures to support developing young. During mating, females, which house the eggs, transfer the eggs to the male, who then provides all of the post-fertilization parental care. They are fully equipped with marsupial-like pouches, to keep the developing embryo warm, provide nutrition, and protection.

Collaboration, patience, solitude, tenderness, madness, ugliness, beauty, toughness, and a serene gentleness; nature is full of the qualities and characteristics we like to think are special only to our species. But a healthy glimpse into our world with all of the contributors reminds us that we are but one yarn in the colorful tapestry of life.

I'm grateful to explore this reminder during my spring break, and have a fresh dose of humility that I'll keep with me as I head back into the home stretch for this school year.

Upcoming Pi Day!!!

I celebrate pi day not only for the nerd in me, but also for the birth of my favorite, friend-partner-in-crime. 

Yay for birthdays and for getting rings, and for spring. 

To celebrate we're going to go sky-diving. Having jumped out of an airplane only one other time in my life, I don't have a lot to go off, but I look forward to the natural high induced by going against all of our natural inclinations towards trying to fight against gravity. 

No we can't fly. 

But we can jump out of a plane. 

Anyway - Today is a good day.