Whiskey

I run into Whiskey on the coldest days. She's gray and sand and holds her back paw tightly up. It was damaged when a car hit her years ago. Whiskey and I usually size each other up and walk our own directions when we meet. Maybe she does that with everyone. She's become a regular though most visitors stop and stare at her from behind their cars. Whiskey's big for a coyote, she's beautiful, that's why people stop. She also blends in with the dusk-light and snow so I usually don't see her until it's too late for me to avoid her. I'm spellbound when I see her. Today was no exception. It was the perfect way to begin the new year I have named: 20!!: Year of the Nomad. It will be an adventurous year-- one to break the bad year streak I've been having the last number of years-- I predict....ok, I hope. No resolutions, just one a prediction. May it come true. Whiskey started my year.

Death. And Life.

There is a woman crying somewhere behind me, mourning. I cannot see her—I am sitting in an alcove, alone. It is fitting for October, the month celebrating everything morbid, the sky is overcast and dreary. Maybe it will soon rain. Then we’ll leave and it will be silent again.

As I write, two falcons have swooped dangerously near my head. I’ve never seen a falcon so close. The cat-squirrel and I had a staring contest; he decided I was no threat and has been scampering around scaring off the birds. I’m just waiting for a rabbit to peek out his head. They are everywhere here. My father chose this spot—a quiet cemetery nestled in the east foothills of Provo with sweeping views of the valley.

Driving the winding road this afternoon, I came with purpose.  Solitude. Tranquility. This morning we discussed death rituals in China. We discussed the ideologies, myth, magic, and religion of death and dying in China. It drove me here.  I am unfocused and angry.

It is ironic that I would seek refuge at the foot of my father’s grave. He died three years ago this month and I still haven’t gotten over the shock of seeing him unnaturally age beyond his years and watch his heart beat for the last time. I think of the journey I have been on since that day—the years I cannot remember before he died and the years since that I’ve spent remembering: I mean to live.

   I am reminded to live well visiting my father.

Each culture deals with death and the rituals of death differently. In what ways do you view death? Is it, like me, associated with feelings of good life to the living, an increase in character, or a reverence of what is gone and a respect and/or loss for the past or even anger? Collectively, what does that do to us, for us, individually and as a society?

Life In Pictures

During the holidays, I had some free time. Being antisocial and not knowing what to do with all that time I looked for pictures that described my life. My life in pictures:

This is me. (I'm the blonde.)

This is who I want to grow up to be.

This is where I live.

And the canyon I drive everyday...

To work at Snowbird.

This is where I spend most of my time.

 Studying Anthropology from texts like this so I can have

a degree like this

This is my laptop. I tote it everywhere during school but...

I downsized my technology usage...

 And much prefer this pack to my school bag.

But this is my favorite way to use a pack. Life goal is backpacking when I am 60. I will.

I love shoes. These are my favorites. They get used.

This is my snowboard.

I'm still working on the skis...

 I ski. I'm not that good but I love it.

Things about me: I love fashion and love to get dressed up but feel just as great going with my natural self. 

I love food! I love the activity of eating food with good company. I love the gathering of people to share food and conversation. I am also a movie junky. Give me a midnight showing and I'm there. Mostly for the vibe of fans gathering in one place.

I love this place. So many reasons.

I am crazy passionate about the arts.

Things that terrify me:

 Aquatic life! Morray Eels and Kelp Forrests. If I had nightmares, this is what they would be filled with.

Being burned again. I get sick to my stomache thinking about it. Pain. So much pain.

Things that are really wonderful:

Dog sitting Nacho.

One of the most zen moments in my life caught on camera.

Austria. I've never been here. But I fell in love the moment I saw this place.

I will go here too.

I want a library like this.

And if I could have any vehicle, my first choice is the wood panel Grand Wagoneer. The second, well...at a cool $150k it BETTER be made by AMG.

This is my baby. I love my Jeep.

But, most importantly, the one thing I've discovered is what I am all about.

People. Every kind. The human condition. Discovering we are all

part of humanity. Finding out What Makes Us Human?

And, knowing every person has a different take on the world and what a great life there is to live by finding out what story every one of us has to tell. I intend to spend my life finding out just that.