QuickPoem - December 2, 2010

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Reincarnation

"What does Reincarnation mean?"
A cowpoke asked his friend.
His pal replied, "It happens when
Yer life has reached its end.
They comb yer hair, and warsh yer neck,
And clean yer fingernails,
And lay you in a padded box
Away from life's travails."

"The box and you goes in a hole,
That's been dug into the ground.
Reincarnation starts in when
Yore planted 'neath a mound.
Them clods melt down, just like yer box,
And you who is inside.
And then yore just beginnin' on
Yer transformation ride."

"In a while, the grass'll grow
Upon yer rendered mound.
Till some day on yer moldered grave
A lonely flower is found.
And say a hoss should wander by
And graze upon this flower
That once wuz you, but now's become
Yer vegetative bower."

"The posy that the hoss done ate
Up, with his other feed,
Makes bone, and fat, and muscle
Essential to the steed,
But some is left that he can't use
And so it passes through,
And finally lays upon the ground
This thing, that once wuz you."

"Then say, by chance, I wanders by
And sees this upon the ground,
And I ponders, and I wonders at,
This object that I found.
I thinks of reincarnation,
Of life and death, and such,
And come away concludin': 'Slim,
You ain't changed, all that much.'"

© Wallace McRae, reprinted from Cowboy Curmudgeon (1992) with permission from Gibbs Smith, Publisher
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.

QuickPost - November 16, 2010

Even older single men always want more. Lately, my male casual friends in their 50's have stated, sometimes explicitly, and sometimes hypothetically, an interest. I'm not attracted to you!!! Can't we just be friends?

QuickPost - November 21, 2010

"Harry felt a thrill of something that was beyond excitement--more like fear." (Book7, Ch. 18).

I never thought JK Rowling would provide me with philosophical insight and calming, in addition to encouraging my imagination. I am slowly but surely gaining confidence in my future direction.

QuickQuote - November 18, 2010

"I've worked on it for years because it was a problem I wanted to solve. Peter, before you can do things for people, you must be the kind of man who can get things done. But to get things done, you must love the doing, not the consequences. Your own action. Not any possible object of your charity."
-Ayn Rand's The Fountainhead (via audio CD)

QuickPost-Sunday, November 7, 2010

"The thing about women is we change everything we can, except for the thing we need to." -N.

When we consider the changes we invite into our lives, are we always avoiding something? Someones the perceived risk is great than the actual risk, and we just need to jump. I encounter this in the backcountry regularly. Jumping across from one rock to another with a modestly deep chasm is scary, but often times the step is smaller than my regular gait. Repelling down a canyoneering route for the first time a couple weeks ago, I told my brain from the very beginning that I had already committed, and once the safety was checked by myself and my coworker, there wasn't anything else we might realize along the way, and so I just had to step in to "the zone" (and stay there, not freak out!).

Swimming is the best example. Why do we close to dive in to the pool all the time as kids? Is it only because we can see the bottom? Adults tend to wade in rather than dive. Have we learned something about the pool that makes us wade, even after we've gotten used to the water temperature? No, we just have learned in life that treading cautiously can be an advantage. But I'm not sure sure it's a "lesson"--I think it is an acclimation of the brain, and everything we can do to challenge ourselves is beneficial. RSI (rigorous self improvement).

Of course, as a woman, I am clearly avoiding something. One fear is increased self-awareness. Stable friendships and personal comforts and ease of geography is something I haven't had since I left my parents house in 2002. And before that I was a teenager, and nothing felt reliable. My next RSI will be to pick something that gives me the experience of repetition, redundancy, time, and stability, because I bet the perceived risk is less than the actual risk.

QuickPost - October 21, 2010

There are weird people in every community, but in cities, you aren't forced to confront them.

Today I was leaving an evening speaker that was unprecedentedly full. A local older woman, who I have seen at previous intellectual events and confidently asks intelligent but strongly worded questions, was shuffling along in her multi-colored garb laden with a couple bags. As I walked by she asked me if the talk had started and I replied "oh its totally full of people and has been since before the talk started." I heard her shuffle pace increase rapidly so I added "they're sending everyone away." As I looked behind me at her exponential foot movement, her legs cease immediately in time and space and her pile of self and bags falls flat-as-a-board forward. Luckily others were not far off, because I am ashamed to say, since I was about 10 sidewalk squares beyond her, I thought to myself in one rapid moment "oh crap. I have to deal with this, don't I." I thought of communities where elders are taken care of by all ages of the community--not our American one, in other words. I thought of cities where some people might just walk by a seeming bag-lady fallen on the ground. And I thought of my small town, where this is absolutely unacceptable. I do not have to know that this woman, though somewhat infirm, is quite intelligent, but alas my still somewhat urban self used that to validate (thankfully, quickly) my action and necessity to return.

At FreeMeal the other day, Auggie explained why he did so much work for FreeMeal. "It's not because of Charity, or to spend time volunteering. It is not that no one else is doing it. It is that it has to be done. In the Fall you winterize your swamp cooler not because you want to, because it feels good to do it, but because you have to. That's how I feel about FreeMeal. But you reach a point where you need a break. Or Help."

Why does obligation have such a negative connotation?

PoemPost - October 9, 2010

SATURDAY NIGHT

Everyone rolls it out
Cue, and a ball sinks into a pocket
Round the bend to find laughter
A gentle punch in the arm
Accompanies smiles
I think I can read people
Ivy leaguers
Dirt bag bikers
Californians and Coloradans
But what do I know?
I just invent a story.
Tight calves reveal the bikers.
Wrinkles show the rural westerners.
Beards cause confusion.
Couples cling--incapable of being alone? I'm just another cynic
On a barstool.

PoemPost - October 8, 2010

Inscription leaves the mark
of permanence
Forever?
No.

Do friends last forever?
No.
But they last more than once.

QuickPost - September 9, 2010

9-9-10 brings a bit of wisdom to the scene.
Yesterday I listened to a young undergrad speak in confidence in the share-circles. Rory and I ate a late breakfast on the Lodge porch and the group was kind enough to let us sit with them. One young woman, whom I do not know, shared remarkable wisdom for a young age. I'm surprised I had not encountered or articulated this idea before because it resonates so strongly with me.

"Everyone has something awesome about the, and if you're not sure what your thing is don't worry, because the people talking to you have figured it out."

PoemPost - September 8, 2010

During an overnight at the Lodge (Lodj) during Trips, I found that E., a Dartmouth '11 who I had met a few times, became a friend and buddy among the masses, even just for an hour or so. In the high energy (and potentially stress) environment in which she works I wrote her a poem this next afternoon while R. napped. Read in the cadence of Dr. Seuss.

Blitzmail is funny,
really, it's true
Because yesterday I felt
like I really know you.
It turns out that I don't
but no need to worry
with this "D" thing in common
it'll come in a hurry.
You see the next letters
they are "O" and "C"
The trust it comes quickly
So the friendship may be.
Add in understanding
and what do we get?
A thing they call family
Even if we just met.
My family I take them
wherever I go
In this thing called my heart
and I want them to know
that whatever they need
can be there
sometimes all it takes
is a phone call to share.
So in this adventure
this thing we call life
full of great stories
people, landscapes, and strife
I hope my new family--
though they may be new--
knows their cushion of support
just changed: it grew!

PoemPost - September 7, 2010

To the hospitable folks at Lakes of the Clouds, especially Tom '10, Emma Colby'10, Dom, and Libby. It was a pleasure sharing your company.

A Poem in the Morning, Remembering a Fog-Free Evening

1300 feet below
the highest point around
the wind whips up strong against
a warm and cozy sound
the sound of mellow laughter
rounded into smiles
gets softened as the strings are plucked
by a melody hiked for miles
see in this cedar homestead
astride the frigid Lakes
guests rest their weary heads together
the croo sweet music makes.

PoemPost - September 6, 2010

Madison Hut, the oldest hut in the Appalachian Mountain Club (AMC) system, is being rebuilt for the next 9-10 months. Though the hut has burned down at least once and been rebuilt a couple times, this is exciting because they will be modernizing the facility (ie. putting in insulation). Yes, this will involve lots of new materials (hopefully as many reused as possible) and lots of helicopter flights and lots of money, but for a facility that runs off of propane, wind, and solar this is a step forward because now it will run off of wind, solar, and propane only as backup. It is a methodology we all can learn from. If they can use less for a group of 50+ on top of a mountain, I think we can all cut back.

Last night was the final night of operation for Madison Hut as-we-know-it.

A Cold and Rainy Afternoon Dedicated to the Fourth President

With sore muscles
Squat down and rest on the bench
Head turns to the left and say hello
Hips shift, right hand on right thigh
Laughter, raised eyebrows
Right leg up and over the saddle
Sitting at the table "properly"
A smile.
Reach right, like a lunge
The laminated map comes to the center
Pointing, furrowed brow, insight
and discussion. Stories of the past.
Of woes and wonder in the wild.
A steaming cup of...anything.
The first white stuff of the Fall descends from the sky
The last night of 69 years for the hut nestled in the saddle.

QuickPost - September 5, 2010

Wisdom.

How old, how wise, how experienced must one be to share wisdom? For the first time in my life, I found my own thoughts worthy of being quoted. After leaving 30 minutes later than expected so I could hum and sing the Salty Dog Rag for the Awesome Doggin' Leaders and '14s (Nature Painting and Photography getting picked up at Appalachia to go to the Moosilauke Ravine Lodge), I began my way up the ever-popular Valley Way trail. Overcast, with a few sprinkles here and there, "weather" was clearly coming in over the Presidential Range. I made my way up to Madison Hut and reached the structure about 6 minutes before some spitting and sprinkling turned into a downright cold rain. I watched unprepared groups seek refuge in the hut. I saw an intelligent hiker who had put plastic bags over his hands and then gripped his hiking poles. And I came up with this saying:

"A wise person once said, 'Always carry a dry pair of socks--you'll never know when you'll need mittens.'"

QuickPost-Sept 3, 2010

As I embarked up the Burnt Mill Tr to West Royce the humidity was heavy as the sweat weighed me down. The views were minimal except of the haze, and the heat! Oh the heat!

I ascended a soil-laden trail slope--a rarity in the White Mountains, but not in the Wild River Valley. I paused--perhaps to take a humid breath--and before me saw a shimmering strand. I traced with my eyes to the base of the strand and found a inch-worm slowly descending to the ground. First about 2 feet off the ground and within one minute the inch-worm was on soil. I am reminded to walk slowly I try to complete these hikes quickly yet I could have easily missed the inch-worm.

Once I reached the top of the hill it wasn't so steep and I could hike/walk/run fast again. At the junction between the Royce's I turn towards West (never to summit East!) and am hit with the most amazing Olfactorious Glory! Was it pine? mountain? granite or other rock? moss? moose crap? The rare spruce? I could not believe the high of this smell. I felt like an egregious hippie but holy crap that smell was good.

PoemPost - August 22, 2010

TWO

Highland

Droplets
Misting thru my fingertips
Invisible, yet tangible

Slowly
I progress, but do I miss out
by holding back?

Conscientiousness
Reason, Logic, Morals
Self-control
Can tear you apart
So that you miss feeling the most
as it passes you by

Both

How do you wander without any anchor?
Is it easier never to drag in the sand?
Or harder to never stay at port,
to always be searching.
What does it mean to pass another ship? To long for their companionship, unsure of how they'll feel about you. Did you ever desire to raft up? Or to speed on past?
Do you ever feel torn in two?

QuickPost - August 17, 2010

Poetry night happens again. This time just four of us attend and I read, among others, my 3 favorites this summer. This time, though, we spent much more time discussing poetry as a concept, and I contribute to the conversation by reading poetically the Wilderness Act of 1964. In fact, if you remove the word foremost and the word Federal, it does sound lyrical, even though it was written as legislative prose!

Towards the end Deb discussed the dichotomy that we pursue as social beings who also seek out solitude. Companionship. Quiet. Love. Personal Space. Laughter. Being Completely Dependent on Oneself. Community. The Night Sky. This is my personal bipolarity that I know I will attempt to straddle for my entire life.

QuickPost - August 14, 2010

8/14/10: 4 nights in a row slept outside at camp, all inspired by my night at Imp campsite. I started on the office porch, diagonally so I would fit. I continued for two nights on my sleeping pad in the field, falling asleep to the night prior to and the night of the peak of the Perseids. The skies were dark and gorgeous and the shooting stars were somewhat abundant. The final night of the series began by standing with guests outside their cabin watching the stars, to all of us migrating to the field for a better view and staying up until 3 AM to catch the best night of them all so far. With a mass of blankets, we each lay on a glider cushion and curled up on our own.



(A few days later, I find myself nostalgically reminiscing in my head about this night. The week was no better than any other. The people the usual mix of nice and wonderful, and demanding and obnoxious--typical for any of us on vacation. If you read August 17th, I think that may explain why I linger on the bubbling joy of the evening spent int he company of L & B, an especially kind guest).

QuickPost - August 13, 2010

Friday, August 13, 2010: I unexpectedly have time to climb a mountain during the work day, and I head for Caribou. A beautiful, rewarding, and pleasantly challenging trail leads me to the mountain. On the way down, I watch for the falls on the map. I think I miss them so I swim, but then I come upon one, pouring over like a cup that dollops a quantity, but awkwardly. There is not even a path down to it! I find the BIG falls shortly later, and it is such a large swimming hole, I don't even want to go alone. I make good time, and I make plans to return.

QuickPost - August 3, 2010

I often convey to friends that while it can be scary in the outdoors, it can also be freeing. Today I went to town for my day off. First I went to see Toy Story 3 by myself, and fell asleep for 20 minutes in the middle. As a result, I missed how all the toys escaped the evil baby daycare room and wound up at the trash compactor. Then I went to the Met and they were out of Chai. Then I went to the bookstore and there were very few used books. Overall, the day was not particularly successful in terms of what I go to towns for. Then I went to Pudding Pond for a little stroll. Immediately taking a mountain biking path instead of the main/walking route, I weaved (wove?) my way around, paying attention to my sense of direction. When I came back out at the powerline cut, I turned left, not really sure where I was, but having taken lefts all day, I figured that would continue to send me back to the beginning. I walked way far along the powerline cut, almost to the end, wondering why I hadn't crossed it once if I crossed it a second time. I went over just one more hill, thinking I needed to go all the way back and should have turned right initially. But then boom! There I was.

The following schematics (not present) contrast where I thought I went, and where I actually went. I really wish someone had been tracking me. It was a good day for getting lost.


No American wilderness that I know of is so dangerous as a city home "with all the modern improvements." One should go to the woods for safety, if for nothing else --- John Muir

I often convey to friends that while it can be scary in the outdoors, it can also be freeing. Yesterday I went to town for my day off. First I went to see Toy Story 3 by myself, and fell asleep for 20 minutes in the middle. As a result, I missed how all the toys escaped the evil baby daycare room and wound up at the trash compactor. Then I went to the Met and they were out of Chai. Then I went to the bookstore and there were very few used books. Overall, the day was not particularly successful in terms of what I go to towns for. Then I went to Pudding Pond for a little stroll. Immediately taking a mountain biking path instead of the main/walking route, I weaved my way around, paying attention to my sense of direction. I thought I had traveled two units up so I turned left one unit and then left one unit again. When I got back to the powerline cut, the trailhead was nowhere to be found. Wondering if I had traveled PAST the trailhead in my series of left turns, I turned left again, and walked and walked and thought perhaps I should turn around but I was approaching this end of the power line cut. "Well, I might as well finish it off before turning around and walking back (to where I started) for half an hour!" I thought to myself.
A moment later, I came upon the trailhead!? Turns out those series of left turns had occurred when my sense of direction was discombobulated. In fact, I had traveled two units up, then one unit up, and then another unit up! So when I came out at the power line cut, I had four units to walk back to get to where I started (much longer than I thought), and thankfully I turned left to do so!

No American wilderness that I know of is so dangerous as a city home "with all the modern improvements." One should go to the woods for safety, if for nothing else --- John Muir

QuickPost - July 28, 2010

The bear saga continues.

One week after the first visit by a local juvenile black bear, we have had a total of 4 visits. Last night, he levered off park of a rickety board on the door of the trash shed. Tomorrow, our local color Frank E. (whose lack of accent I love--I am the one with the accent, he says) may have found us someone with dogs to chase away the bear.

B&G shift, which usually does Buildings and Grounds, will now be called B&G, meaning Bear and Grounds.

QuickPost-July 27, 2010

I might as well stop hiking right now.

There is no way I will ever go on a hike better than today's. Future good hikes will just be different. Any thing to complain about lasted no more than 15 minutes, the worst of which was bugs at the end on the Bicknell Ridge trail descent as the wind died down. Wind gusts while ascending the Ledges of the Baldface Circle Trail were temporary and cooling. Ascending these rocks was challenging, but full of beauty and not impossible. Hot rocks on the way to North Baldface included a sampling of shade. Solitude was occasionally interspersed with conversation. Good conversation included silences that were not awkward. All uphill climbs up ledges were gently interspersed with the most delicious vegetation.

Today's 6-word poem: "Step, Step, Blueberry; Step, Step, Blueberry."

QuickPost-July 15, 2010

I wait at camp all day. But waiting is not right.
I accomplish.
I relax.
I gain confidence with the bosses gone.
I finally converse with a coworker,
as we blend sweet fruit, tangy juice, delicious dairy, and nuttiness and toast to the many qualities of each other and camp.
I am called an artist, as I paint the crevices in the wood that spell language.
I explain wilderness, tell part of my story, and then am asked "my goal for the future."
I tell them I can only give a philosophical answer at this time.
"To have fun," I say, quoting a friend.
I dance under the clouds as they make way for stars,
for a whole song with no one watching.
The rain teased us. Tension settled from yesterday.
Tonight's evening activity?
Poetry Night.

QuickPost-July 14, 2010

7/14/10: Yesterday was a learning day. My first day "alone" while the bosses went on their days off together, instead of split up. However, it was also our first day completely down one staff member, and I still have only worked here for two weeks. It is difficult to manage for efficiency when you don't have a good scope on the process. However, my bosses didn't actually leave for their days off, so after a few slightly hurt feelings and small consultations later, and a little less heat in the air (finally), everyone felt better and things were running more smoothly. Luckily, I watched Sarah have to repeat multiple parts of her job but persevere through it with a relaxed attitude. And thus I am kindly reminded that challenges are blessings in the form of reminders.

QuickPost-July 11, 2010

Do we have this in the west?
As I bicycle along the road, I can feel microclimates that I would never notice otherwise. I remember this feeling from Hanover. As I biked out to forestry practice, over the bridge with the brook, I would feel the change of temperature. And today as I biked out to The Brickett Place, I felt the warmth, the chill, the changes in humidity, and so many micro-changes that I don't remember from my previous homeplace out west.
Feeling the air change in minute ways, not from the wind, but from your own body passing through an area with a vague boundary, is an emotional experience when one is used to consistency in climate.

QuickPost-July 8, 2010

Fifty guests, six routed signs, two singalongs, two barbecues, two ice cream cones, two excessively hot and humid days, two river soaks, two days off, one fallen ladder, one bike ride, one swimming hole, one fired employee, and one fireworks show all in one week--what more could you ask for??

QuickPost-July 7, 2010

Feeling the heat. Escape to the cold river. The kid needs help but we must draw the line and fire him for his actions. In contrast to the humidity, my emotions go cold.

QuickPost-July 6, 2010

I drove in to camp this afternoon accompanied by OMC's "How Bizarre." Despite their not being from New Hampshire, they pronounce bih-zah as if true New Hampsha Yankees. It seemed so appropriate as I returned from Moosilauke calmed by the Lodge and slow-moving because of the heat-wave. I found this ironic, knowing that tomorrow there will be a metaphorical storm at work.

QuickPost-July 6, 2010

I can drive across a state in 2.5 hours! I always feel so relaxed at Moosilauke, listening to the Asquamchumake stream through the mountains and the wind stream through the trees.

QuickPost-June 29, 2010

The rain catches me off guard, and yesterday I noticed the changes in humidity throughout the day and had to ask my boss if he was feeling them too simply to understand if it was "just me."

QuickPost-June 25, 2010

How would YOU describe the wafting aroma of pine needles as the breeze hits your face?

QuickPost-June 24, 2010

While reaching to my toes I discover something from Utah -- a tan line from the turquoise ankleet Dylan made for me last August out of a plastic bag.

The Role of the Writer on the Land

Reflecting on the works of Edward Abbey, David Remley wrote:
"...How we shall see the land is the central question of [Fire on the Mountain]. If we condemn vast sweeps of it for the inappropriate uses of a technological society, what does that condemnation mean for the rights of an old man like John Vogelin, for the mental and emotional health of a Lee Mackie, for the spiritual vision of a maturing boy like Billy? What does it mean for all of us and, ultimately, for nature itself?" (Pg. 57 of Resist Much, Obey Little: Some Notes on Edward Abbey)