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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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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