Walking Beside Waves: On Acknowledging Shifts in Oneself While Exploring the Scottish Isles

Initially, writing came through as an innate desire to express. 

A need, really, and as that became impossible to ignore, I dove in, without a clue as to what I was doing. There are no romantic stories that start with, “for as long as I can remember, I wrote.” It didn't come naturally, and I would say that it still doesn’t, but my gosh does it fill me up. Not just that, but it stands as a reminder.

A reason to keep learning and shifting when adjustments are needing to be made. 

And once I began dipping my toes in, shaping the words around adventures and releasing anxious energy I thought I’d never be rid of, things began to fall into place, and just in time for my grandpa to begin his lessons in literature: Emails back and forth that walked through common grammatical mistakes, sentence structure, and often misused words, in a way that worked with not against the way information was processed on an individual level. 

Without that, I was trapped behind their expectations. Their desire to be perfectly placed here and there, blindly and without question, abiding by the rulebook that was assigned to me. 

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Windows and Wildflowers: From Yorkshire, England to Brighton, Cornwall, and Back Up Again

Besides not getting the 'melt-in-your-mouth' salmon that was expected on the flight (had never reserved a meal before), Sean being hassled for a good half hour on our arrival to Dublin,  breaking a sweat while pretending not to run as we nearly missed our fight(s), and having to chug nearly 40oz of water before going through security, our trip over was quite uneventful. 

Travel for enjoyment, what a beautiful gift that is, making those minor hiccups nothing but an itty-bitty passing moment.

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An Unfolding Experience: Ten Days In Bali, Indonesia

So off we went, packed into my little rickety jeep, as far from ready as we'd ever be, winding our way from Bend to Portland, for our early morning flight, and with every intention of letting go of at least half of the weight we were carrying with (here marks the beginning of quite a few metaphorical references).

Or maybe not letting go of, but combining it with a little more ease and clarity—more of this and less of that. 

journal musings. Part One. April 19th?

(Time change has me confused, maybe it’s still the 18th? Anyways, we’re about 11 hours out from our departure, and flying somewhere over Japan.)

I’m juggling the word privilege in my thoughts as we fly over places unlike anything I’ve seen before, in a “little” metal machine (it's all relative, right?), controlled by a human, someone just like me, but with a knowledge I have never sought out (my hat goes off to all you pilots out there).

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The Portland Adventure: More Than Lyme's First Event

This post has been sitting on the tip of every thought and intention since we packed our belongings and left Portland on March 5th, after a weekend spent with all of you. 

It's a want-to-be novel; a tightly bound experience bursting at the seams!

This is always the hardest part, isn't it? I've never felt immediate comfort from the initial stroke of a pen or *click click* of a keyboard as I sit down to share, but here we are. Here we always are, and I wouldn't have it any other way. 

There's a longing for the fulfillment and satisfaction that comes from putting this word here and this one here. From taking myself out of the limitations I feel right now and into the nervous-excitement-and-oh-my-gosh-this-could-all-go-terribly-wrong of the night before, the week before, the month before we all walked into that little space in Portland.

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The Colors We See: The Importance of Sharing What You Love + Why You Choose to Live a Life More Than

One step

Crunch, uneven ground, burnt yellow and orange, dark slate, and pastel green sage engulf my feet.

I stand perfectly still, watching the silence rise up around me.

Two steps

I'm walking, arms swinging in the crips air, the silence I felt moments before falls away as the world comes alive with the rise of the big white moon.

Three steps

Back last against the dry earth, trees tower above my floating mind.

I'm small, cradled in power, in a force kept secret by the colors and the sounds and the critters of the woods. 

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Do What Makes You Feel Good: Kourtney's Message to Her Younger Self + How She's Approaching Life After Two Months Spent Traveling New Zealand

As I write this I feel a bit like I’ve traveled back the 18th century,

Although the light comes from a battery powered head lamp flickering from the flapping tarp above me. The words flow from clicking keys instead of feather dipped ink. It's raining just enough induce calm, but the obnoxious wind manages to keep me awake. Occasional lighting strikes periodically steal my attention, counting the seconds until thunder. Finally, immersed in this beautiful night, I regenerate my intuition and creative thoughts. Expanding upon the last four months’ lessons learned and watching it grow deeper roots and strong stems within my thoughts.

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