Intentional Curiosity, Part Two: Bouquets on the Windowsill, Sylvia Plath, A Blue Dress, Plums, and Other Things I’ve Overlooked While Glamorizing the Hustle

On the day that the sun sends streams through the windows and all I can do is wait for something, anything, to pass, I turn the blooming weeds in the backyard to bouquets on the windowsill. I measure out dried herbs and create makeshift blends of medicinal teas, eventually straining and admiring as those same streams of sunlight dance through its foggy substance.

I tend to my indoor plants as well.

Snipping and removing dying leaves, making room for the bright green leaves to come through.

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Intentional Curiosity, Part One: What I Didn’t Expect to Feel After Traveling 35 Hours in a Jam-Packed Car With My Best Friend

It’s daytime, and the expansiveness of the desert leaves you feeling small in the best kind of way.

It’s night, and the stars remind you of being a child. Of the promise you made to yourself that one day, you’d go up there and discover a planet not unlike our own. Except out there, there’d be floating houses, waterfalls full of sparkling magic, and a fairies that guide you through the dark woods as you listen to moss grow, trees talk, and elves sing.

That reality soon taking up more and more space in this one. Time and imagination both eager for your full attention, but since you can’t ever give yourself fully to one or the other, you find yourself satisfied with the in-between, settling in as if it were a comfy arm chair next to a crackling fire.

Sometimes, I pretend I’m running a way from the law after having stood up for something I believe in deeply, while somehow still remaining impossibly whimsical and full of secret lives no one else will ever know about.

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Lasting Friendships Found Through Unlikely Adventures: The Momentum That Brought Us Here

I’m quite certain that there’s no introduction that will satisfy.

No start, middle, or end to this adventure that could possibly match the giddiness that we felt at 4am as our snacks were assembled, coffee poured (and undoubtedly spilled from sleepiness), and animated conversation, in short, over where we stand with the likes of country music.

It was a friendship started by way of a single common thread; a commonality soon expanding into something entirely whole, messy, and unfinished—not a single expectation in sight, simply unwavering support.

From a nervously typed hello, banking on the chances of the response, let alone friendship, being one in infinity, to adventures in Portland, Bend, and at the top of a mountain, the momentum that brought us here will no doubt bring us there, and everywhere in-between.

This piece is written by Kourtney and myself, while being paired Elli’s ability to document a feeling.

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When Things Don’t Go As Planned: And Just Like That, We’re Pushing Back the Date of Our Second More Than Lyme Adventure

Dear Community,

This was not a post I had planned on writing, and even as I type out these very fragile words (what words aren't, fragile?), I toy with the idea of backing out. Of retracing my steps to last night, before the meltdown and before my conversation with my mom and Adam. 

But instead, I sit; my legs are crossed and there's a heated summer breeze reminding me to breathe slowly--move slowly. To stop filling a beautifully empty space full of possibility with more deadlines and to do's. 

I didn't see this coming, in fact, the phrase, "what if I pushed back the date,"kind of exploded out of me after a series of paces from one end of the house to another; these kinds of decisions are not stumbled upon lightly, but rather,  like an all too dramatic toe stub and overreaction to how you reacted, "oh my gosh, why does it hurt so much, it's only a stubbed toe!"It happened, I felt it, the relief of feeling it, and the sting of realizing that the conclusion I had come to would take an extremely un-Chloe-like act of rebellion. 

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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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