Some days I want to hide under my covers. I don't want to get up, I don't want to be responsible or punctual or even brush my teeth. I want to close my eyes and cover my ears and sometimes I even could go for a hug.
I often get caught up in my own hurricane of a personality before I realize what's happening. I end up feeling pulled in sixty-seven different directions, and in those moments all I want to do is go climb. Climbing settles me because no matter how in a tizzy I am when I start, I have to set that aside. Skydiving is proving to be the same. I am forced to focus and forced to physically process any stress or tension or conflict. All the things I have to do and be and say are irrelevant for those minutes. Climbing and jumping play on my tendency to hyperfocus and to be lost completely in whatever demands the most attention from me. I haven't decided yet whether that's good or bad.
So frequently I get drained by how much I care and how much I want to make other people happy. I will never be able to shake completely that drive...it's a part of who I am. I genuinely enjoy seeing others fulfilled & loved. It heartens me to know that the people around me are cared for. This can come at an expense, which I willingly accept. Eventually, though it comes around to me feeling selfish when I pursue the things I want to do. I know this is silly, but I'm hardwired that way. To convince myself that it's okay to want to be alone and to say no takes all I can muster sometimes! And when people try to tell me these things, it's even more frustrating. I KNOW I'm busy. I KNOW I don't have to say yes. I KNOW it's okay to rest. I get it. I don't need to be admonished in that regard, thanks.
And right now there's a lot of things that are vying for my attention--hence the wanting to hide under the covers. So many forms and projects and tasks that don't have a set time to be done, so they just loom over the periphery of everything else, threatening to send me into a panic attack when I think on them too much. My initiative wanes, because I'm exhausted before I even start. That said, I'm certainly not living in a cloud of distress, but I have my moments.
So when people ask why I do what I do for fun, I don't have a great answer. I do those things because they can match the intensity and fervor with which I process the rest of life. They seem to fit. And those things can be an escape, a place to explore my fears and limits, but eventually the ground comes quickly and I have to plant my legs, shinsplints and all, on some solid ground so I can step purposefully toward the next moment. Because even if I'm not sure where I'm going, I want to get there on purpose.
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
Sunday, August 2, 2009
doubt
My family came by the dropzone today. They were headed up the state, I had a rig to pack (S leaves the student canopies for me to pack so I can learn how to do it) and a free afternoon so it worked out.
Funny thing was, that "feeling" I've started to have since I started taking climbing more seriously was at an all-time high. Since this is an unfamiliar thing for me to experience, I don't know if it crosses over and is just part of the whole "growing up" thing or not. I've spent a good part of my life doing as I was told, looking for approval and achieving what I was "supposed to". It's something I struggle with always, but am learning gradually to let go of.
I'm going to go ahead and make climbing the scapegoat here, since climbing is sort of what got everything going--led to slacklining and eventually I'd say even skydiving. The attitudes I developed, the confidence, the way I fit with these activities in a way I'd never fit with other sports. The people I met--a veritable smorgasboard of smart, warm, adventurous individuals that I have loved spending time with.
And the more I become the person I am most comfortable being, the me that I like the most, the more I realize that's not so much what I had in mind, and perhaps not even what was expected of me. And that's a harsh reality, because in my mind "smart kids" like me don't struggle with this, they just get through school, get a respectable "smart kid" job, and everything is sunshine and butterflies.
How is it that I am engaged in a daily battle where some days I'm so happy I'm beside myself and ready to take the world by storm and other days I'm petrified that I am merely scratching an itch and eventually these passions will fade away and then I'll be a shoulda-coulda-woulda who used to have potential? I understand that it is all a balance (which is sometimes a difficult concept for my stubborn mind to wrap itself around) and that everything has an ebb and flow.
And right now, I'm okay with that. So long as at the end of the day I know that I gave it my all, I'll be just fine. It's just hard when a family is as tight knit as mine is and I feel absolutely on the fringe, like I'm not on the grid where I can even relate these things and what they mean to me.
So then skydiving and climbing become something bigger. Something uniquely defining and not just in the way that people look at you and go "you're crazy" or "you're hardcore" or "what's with all the extreme sports?", but in the way that I feel like I am pursuing things that make me terribly happy. And experiencing that doubt just becomes part of the whole thing...knowing that I am the one making choices and having to own them.
Funny thing was, that "feeling" I've started to have since I started taking climbing more seriously was at an all-time high. Since this is an unfamiliar thing for me to experience, I don't know if it crosses over and is just part of the whole "growing up" thing or not. I've spent a good part of my life doing as I was told, looking for approval and achieving what I was "supposed to". It's something I struggle with always, but am learning gradually to let go of.
I'm going to go ahead and make climbing the scapegoat here, since climbing is sort of what got everything going--led to slacklining and eventually I'd say even skydiving. The attitudes I developed, the confidence, the way I fit with these activities in a way I'd never fit with other sports. The people I met--a veritable smorgasboard of smart, warm, adventurous individuals that I have loved spending time with.
And the more I become the person I am most comfortable being, the me that I like the most, the more I realize that's not so much what I had in mind, and perhaps not even what was expected of me. And that's a harsh reality, because in my mind "smart kids" like me don't struggle with this, they just get through school, get a respectable "smart kid" job, and everything is sunshine and butterflies.
How is it that I am engaged in a daily battle where some days I'm so happy I'm beside myself and ready to take the world by storm and other days I'm petrified that I am merely scratching an itch and eventually these passions will fade away and then I'll be a shoulda-coulda-woulda who used to have potential? I understand that it is all a balance (which is sometimes a difficult concept for my stubborn mind to wrap itself around) and that everything has an ebb and flow.
And right now, I'm okay with that. So long as at the end of the day I know that I gave it my all, I'll be just fine. It's just hard when a family is as tight knit as mine is and I feel absolutely on the fringe, like I'm not on the grid where I can even relate these things and what they mean to me.
So then skydiving and climbing become something bigger. Something uniquely defining and not just in the way that people look at you and go "you're crazy" or "you're hardcore" or "what's with all the extreme sports?", but in the way that I feel like I am pursuing things that make me terribly happy. And experiencing that doubt just becomes part of the whole thing...knowing that I am the one making choices and having to own them.
more learning to fly
Confession: I am a control freak with performance anxiety. I like to know what's going on and how to respond to it and how everything works and...well, you get the idea.
Jumped levels 5 and 6 today, and packed four rigs. (Two student rigs, an under-100 and G's wingsuit rig...more later on all that). I was on my way to the dropzone immediately after breakfast and didn't pull in the driveway until after 11 p.m. I arrived at around 10 a.m. and took it easy for a couple hours, watching S pack and trying my best to get into some calculated mischief. We went out to catch a couple of tandems and I managed to get munched on by our friendly neighborhood mosquitoes (they LOVE me) before it clicked why people always talk about their skydiving stuff smelling like Deet. The skeeters come out in full force in the nice green tandem landing area. They leave the student landing area alone cause it's dry and full of pokeys.
Anyways. On level 5, I had to learn to be much more stable in my turns and turn all the way around instead of only a 180 like in level 4. After said jump, I packed the 300 square foot student canopy (which I did NOT fly...waaaaaay too big) with some assistance. Let me tell you, I understand now why skydivers can sometimes--how to put this--have a “mouth” on them. Getting that thing situated with all of its risers (the cords that connect everything) and material and keeping it neat and organized and getting it stuffed into that tiiiiiiiiiny little bag is enough to elicit some choice verbage, that's for sure. A couple of times I had to up and walk away from pack jobs because I was letting my frustration get the better of me. I would calm down and come back later to finish up. I then packed my own student rig.
Somewhere in there, I packed J's rig, which is less than 100 square feet. Smaller square footage = more dynamic performance. It was definitely a change from the gigantic student rigs, that's for sure. Then G grabbed me to discuss level 6's skydive--back layouts and tracking AND a solo exit, meaning I let go of the plane without any instructor assistance, stabilize, and fly. For the whole jump, G doesn't touch me unless I'm going to kill myself. Also I got to try my hand at spotting and having an instructor on my left instead of my right as he has been for all other jumps. Spotting is using landmarks to identify and decide on where the door opens and when the pilot cuts the engine so we can jump out. Of course I managed to screw up that part a little, but that's kind of the point...making mistakes and learning. I put us a little too west, but we were able to get back to the landing zone just fine. G is very good about letting me screw up only insofar as I don't endanger anyone, which gives me a lot of opportunities for learning. Which I am doing plenty of.
The layouts are exactly what they sound like they are--flips--and tracking is flying forward very quickly by flattening out your body. It allows you to move laterally in a given direction. I got into the layouts easy, but had trouble stopping the movement and ended up for the first time losing control in freefall. It sounds scary, but it's really not that bad. It's just a matter of responding to the situation, getting back IN control of your body, and staying where you are so you can do what you need to do. What a great lesson for me, both as a skydiver and a person.
As for the tracking, I was a little funky with my arms for the first go at it, but after I took a break and tried again, it was FUN and came much easier. I didn't monitor my altitude perfectly and pulled a little low, but my opening and landing were fine.
After that, G briefed me on how the jump went and we talked about level 7 which frankly scares the bejeezus out of me. It is a solo jump that combines everything I've been learning. I'm kind of glad I know the flow now so I can visualize and build confidence over the course of the week. I've learned that I am adept at responding to situations but that I suck when it comes to being on the power curve, making the decisions. And I need to figure that out for this jump.
I stayed around to watch G fly his wingsuit so I could watch his canopy deploy since I had packed it last weekend. It worked--he had threatened me with my AFF if he had to cutaway, which he didn't, so I get to keep jumping. In fact, he handed it to me to pack it a second time. It was all I could do to finish that pack job, as I was starting to crash, and bad. I perked up with an Anchor Steam and a lap around the hangar, as well as some vaguely dangerous antics like scaling the hangar door and the like. We all stood around until heading out, this time after dark. We (the young generation of jumpers) met up at our “clubhouse”--J's apartment--where we ate pizza and watched The Sharp End. I doubt I'll ever get tired of that movie.
I'm trying to temper my enthusiasm a bit since I'm pretty sure everyone I know is tired of me talking about skydiving. I can't make any promises, though...so far I'm pretty well hooked. Anyone else wanna try it?
Jumped levels 5 and 6 today, and packed four rigs. (Two student rigs, an under-100 and G's wingsuit rig...more later on all that). I was on my way to the dropzone immediately after breakfast and didn't pull in the driveway until after 11 p.m. I arrived at around 10 a.m. and took it easy for a couple hours, watching S pack and trying my best to get into some calculated mischief. We went out to catch a couple of tandems and I managed to get munched on by our friendly neighborhood mosquitoes (they LOVE me) before it clicked why people always talk about their skydiving stuff smelling like Deet. The skeeters come out in full force in the nice green tandem landing area. They leave the student landing area alone cause it's dry and full of pokeys.
Anyways. On level 5, I had to learn to be much more stable in my turns and turn all the way around instead of only a 180 like in level 4. After said jump, I packed the 300 square foot student canopy (which I did NOT fly...waaaaaay too big) with some assistance. Let me tell you, I understand now why skydivers can sometimes--how to put this--have a “mouth” on them. Getting that thing situated with all of its risers (the cords that connect everything) and material and keeping it neat and organized and getting it stuffed into that tiiiiiiiiiny little bag is enough to elicit some choice verbage, that's for sure. A couple of times I had to up and walk away from pack jobs because I was letting my frustration get the better of me. I would calm down and come back later to finish up. I then packed my own student rig.
Somewhere in there, I packed J's rig, which is less than 100 square feet. Smaller square footage = more dynamic performance. It was definitely a change from the gigantic student rigs, that's for sure. Then G grabbed me to discuss level 6's skydive--back layouts and tracking AND a solo exit, meaning I let go of the plane without any instructor assistance, stabilize, and fly. For the whole jump, G doesn't touch me unless I'm going to kill myself. Also I got to try my hand at spotting and having an instructor on my left instead of my right as he has been for all other jumps. Spotting is using landmarks to identify and decide on where the door opens and when the pilot cuts the engine so we can jump out. Of course I managed to screw up that part a little, but that's kind of the point...making mistakes and learning. I put us a little too west, but we were able to get back to the landing zone just fine. G is very good about letting me screw up only insofar as I don't endanger anyone, which gives me a lot of opportunities for learning. Which I am doing plenty of.
The layouts are exactly what they sound like they are--flips--and tracking is flying forward very quickly by flattening out your body. It allows you to move laterally in a given direction. I got into the layouts easy, but had trouble stopping the movement and ended up for the first time losing control in freefall. It sounds scary, but it's really not that bad. It's just a matter of responding to the situation, getting back IN control of your body, and staying where you are so you can do what you need to do. What a great lesson for me, both as a skydiver and a person.
As for the tracking, I was a little funky with my arms for the first go at it, but after I took a break and tried again, it was FUN and came much easier. I didn't monitor my altitude perfectly and pulled a little low, but my opening and landing were fine.
After that, G briefed me on how the jump went and we talked about level 7 which frankly scares the bejeezus out of me. It is a solo jump that combines everything I've been learning. I'm kind of glad I know the flow now so I can visualize and build confidence over the course of the week. I've learned that I am adept at responding to situations but that I suck when it comes to being on the power curve, making the decisions. And I need to figure that out for this jump.
I stayed around to watch G fly his wingsuit so I could watch his canopy deploy since I had packed it last weekend. It worked--he had threatened me with my AFF if he had to cutaway, which he didn't, so I get to keep jumping. In fact, he handed it to me to pack it a second time. It was all I could do to finish that pack job, as I was starting to crash, and bad. I perked up with an Anchor Steam and a lap around the hangar, as well as some vaguely dangerous antics like scaling the hangar door and the like. We all stood around until heading out, this time after dark. We (the young generation of jumpers) met up at our “clubhouse”--J's apartment--where we ate pizza and watched The Sharp End. I doubt I'll ever get tired of that movie.
I'm trying to temper my enthusiasm a bit since I'm pretty sure everyone I know is tired of me talking about skydiving. I can't make any promises, though...so far I'm pretty well hooked. Anyone else wanna try it?
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
jump, you say? how high? how about 10,500?
There's something about hanging out at the dropzone from before when my coffee even kicks in until the hunger pains that signal dinnertime that makes it hard to return to everything else. There's a rhythm there that is easy to settle into, and an energy that makes it difficult to leave.
I went up early Sunday morning knowing I was going to spend all day, and spend all day I did. We were set with upwards of a dozen tandems, which means that our little Cessna 182 gets a workout. Also the main packer gets a workout, but that's another story. :) Packing tandems will get you strong and VERY good at sleeping bag and tent packing. Heck, packing canopies at all will get you good at those things.
Midmorning I had a lovely talk laying under the non-running plane in the back with one of the instructors. We talked about life and work and jumping and relationships and family, and I only got up once it started to ache to be in the same place for so long. Some hullaballo commenced, mostly headstands and dangerous maneuvers of that sort, chatting a little with the occasional talkative tandem. I like talking to tandems because it wasn't that long ago I was there.
I have an appreciation for the rhythm of the loads, because it seems to fall right into how I prefer my attention be broken up. It takes about 20 minutes to complete a cycle, which factors in the climb up to altitude, the jump & then flying a canopy down to the ground. I'm pretty consistently able to focus on an activity in about 20-minute chunks. Works out nicely, don't you think?
Come about 2 or 3 in the afternoon we were able to figure out how I'd fit my jumps. The tandems were all gone for the day and then it was time for AFF jumpers (of whom there were two--me and one other) and up jumpers to get some altitude. The other student would do his level 4, then I'd do my level 3 and if that went well I could do my level 4.
Level 3 is a stability jump. The idea is by this point you're supposed to be learning to control your body on your own in freefall, and for this level you essentially just have to hold steady without anyone holding onto you. It can go really well or it can be where you get stuck repeating a level. If you pass, you graduate to one instructor instead of two. On all the other levels, you have a myriad of objectives to complete, a series of sequences, but on this jump it's all about preventing turns or bobbles or wiggles. Which is harder than it sounds! A knee dropped by an inch is all it takes to throw off your entire body and send you turning! But bodies are cool things because if you let them do what they're supposed to and stop THINKING so hard, they figure it out. You just DO it. You know, like Nike.
So somehow my body figured out how to skydive in there somewhere and while it was nowhere near a perfect jump, it was a great jump and I learned a LOT about flying. Then it was time for level 4, at which you learn to turn and fly forward to dock (read: connect) with your instructor. My level 4 jump was also a fun load because I got to go up with two of my favorite jumpers! We're kind of the “new generation” at our dz, so it's fun to hang out with them. I took them climbing last week which was a total blast. S is currently the only other girl on the dz, so I like spending time with her. We'll have a couple more come fall, which'll be good too! J was the other jumper on my load, and he took video. I was worried about being distracted, but because of the nature of the dive I didn't even really notice him. And it was nice to have the video to review on the ground later. (No, I didn't keep it. What for?)
On the level 4 I completely screwed up one of the turns but I learned from it and figured it out for the second one. It's really insane what you can learn in 30 seconds of freefall, and how many hours of contemplation it feeds in the days following. I literally woke up this morning and involuntarily my brain switched to skydiving. From the exit to the landing pattern it's all a learning experience in which you can be nowhere else. I can't fit in my brain thoughts of anything BUT the immediate moment while jumping. And I like that.
I got to go off-radio (you wear a 2-way for under canopy until your instructor decides you don't need it I guess) for jump 4, which was a little nervy. But really, I didn't need it. At that point I had shown I could safely--not perfectly--land a parachute and understand what I was doing. I dread the day I have any kind of malfunction and have to troubleshoot, but that's part of it, and I'll take that risk.
After the last jump I watched S pack a student rig and my instructor offered to let me finish packing his wingsuit rig. Um, no pressure right? It's not like he'd like to keep his almost-20-years-without-a-cutaway record. I finished the pack job with HEAVY supervision. I like packing though. I like the idea of having an understanding and control of more variables of the jump.
After the last load of the day we packed up and headed out to eat Mexican food...yum. And for one of the first times in my life I wan't the only goofy one at the table, willing to be silly and loud and imaginative and happy. I have yet to meet a skydiver with a pervasively negative disposition. Yes, people get frustrated at the dz. Bad jumps happen, whatever. But at the end of the day, we jumped. We lived and played and learned.
And I am learning so much about myself...what motivates me, what worries me, what teaches me. I leave the dz at the end of the day WORKED. I wake up the next day WORKED (I swear it, skydiving is great for the thigh/butt/lower back muscles). My poor bank account even gets worked. :) I love it all, though. It's funny, I have a hard time spending time with groups of friends who aren't jumpers after being with jumpers all day. I can't settle. I feel out of place and simultaneously exhausted and revved up.
The funny thing is, I get the feeling that from the outside looking in, the perception of all of this is an amalgamation of people thinking I'm nuts and being inspired, two things I didn't anticipate. For ONCE I have chosen activities that make me unspeakably excited and happy and I have a hard time caring what someone else thinks. Yeah, skydiving sounds all well and good and everyone wants to do the quintessential tandem dive on their “To Do Before I Die” list but if you do it over and over? People think you've got a screw loose. Maybe I have got a screw loose, but that's besides the point. I'm still a baby skydiver anyways. Still just a student. Maybe I'll have more to say when I've got more jumps, but by then you'll all be tired of my rambling about jumping anyways. :)
Suffice it to say, I really love to jump. It scares the bejeezus out of me but it is uniquely wonderful. I can't wait for the next one.
I went up early Sunday morning knowing I was going to spend all day, and spend all day I did. We were set with upwards of a dozen tandems, which means that our little Cessna 182 gets a workout. Also the main packer gets a workout, but that's another story. :) Packing tandems will get you strong and VERY good at sleeping bag and tent packing. Heck, packing canopies at all will get you good at those things.
Midmorning I had a lovely talk laying under the non-running plane in the back with one of the instructors. We talked about life and work and jumping and relationships and family, and I only got up once it started to ache to be in the same place for so long. Some hullaballo commenced, mostly headstands and dangerous maneuvers of that sort, chatting a little with the occasional talkative tandem. I like talking to tandems because it wasn't that long ago I was there.
I have an appreciation for the rhythm of the loads, because it seems to fall right into how I prefer my attention be broken up. It takes about 20 minutes to complete a cycle, which factors in the climb up to altitude, the jump & then flying a canopy down to the ground. I'm pretty consistently able to focus on an activity in about 20-minute chunks. Works out nicely, don't you think?
Come about 2 or 3 in the afternoon we were able to figure out how I'd fit my jumps. The tandems were all gone for the day and then it was time for AFF jumpers (of whom there were two--me and one other) and up jumpers to get some altitude. The other student would do his level 4, then I'd do my level 3 and if that went well I could do my level 4.
Level 3 is a stability jump. The idea is by this point you're supposed to be learning to control your body on your own in freefall, and for this level you essentially just have to hold steady without anyone holding onto you. It can go really well or it can be where you get stuck repeating a level. If you pass, you graduate to one instructor instead of two. On all the other levels, you have a myriad of objectives to complete, a series of sequences, but on this jump it's all about preventing turns or bobbles or wiggles. Which is harder than it sounds! A knee dropped by an inch is all it takes to throw off your entire body and send you turning! But bodies are cool things because if you let them do what they're supposed to and stop THINKING so hard, they figure it out. You just DO it. You know, like Nike.
So somehow my body figured out how to skydive in there somewhere and while it was nowhere near a perfect jump, it was a great jump and I learned a LOT about flying. Then it was time for level 4, at which you learn to turn and fly forward to dock (read: connect) with your instructor. My level 4 jump was also a fun load because I got to go up with two of my favorite jumpers! We're kind of the “new generation” at our dz, so it's fun to hang out with them. I took them climbing last week which was a total blast. S is currently the only other girl on the dz, so I like spending time with her. We'll have a couple more come fall, which'll be good too! J was the other jumper on my load, and he took video. I was worried about being distracted, but because of the nature of the dive I didn't even really notice him. And it was nice to have the video to review on the ground later. (No, I didn't keep it. What for?)
On the level 4 I completely screwed up one of the turns but I learned from it and figured it out for the second one. It's really insane what you can learn in 30 seconds of freefall, and how many hours of contemplation it feeds in the days following. I literally woke up this morning and involuntarily my brain switched to skydiving. From the exit to the landing pattern it's all a learning experience in which you can be nowhere else. I can't fit in my brain thoughts of anything BUT the immediate moment while jumping. And I like that.
I got to go off-radio (you wear a 2-way for under canopy until your instructor decides you don't need it I guess) for jump 4, which was a little nervy. But really, I didn't need it. At that point I had shown I could safely--not perfectly--land a parachute and understand what I was doing. I dread the day I have any kind of malfunction and have to troubleshoot, but that's part of it, and I'll take that risk.
After the last jump I watched S pack a student rig and my instructor offered to let me finish packing his wingsuit rig. Um, no pressure right? It's not like he'd like to keep his almost-20-years-without-a-cutaway record. I finished the pack job with HEAVY supervision. I like packing though. I like the idea of having an understanding and control of more variables of the jump.
After the last load of the day we packed up and headed out to eat Mexican food...yum. And for one of the first times in my life I wan't the only goofy one at the table, willing to be silly and loud and imaginative and happy. I have yet to meet a skydiver with a pervasively negative disposition. Yes, people get frustrated at the dz. Bad jumps happen, whatever. But at the end of the day, we jumped. We lived and played and learned.
And I am learning so much about myself...what motivates me, what worries me, what teaches me. I leave the dz at the end of the day WORKED. I wake up the next day WORKED (I swear it, skydiving is great for the thigh/butt/lower back muscles). My poor bank account even gets worked. :) I love it all, though. It's funny, I have a hard time spending time with groups of friends who aren't jumpers after being with jumpers all day. I can't settle. I feel out of place and simultaneously exhausted and revved up.
The funny thing is, I get the feeling that from the outside looking in, the perception of all of this is an amalgamation of people thinking I'm nuts and being inspired, two things I didn't anticipate. For ONCE I have chosen activities that make me unspeakably excited and happy and I have a hard time caring what someone else thinks. Yeah, skydiving sounds all well and good and everyone wants to do the quintessential tandem dive on their “To Do Before I Die” list but if you do it over and over? People think you've got a screw loose. Maybe I have got a screw loose, but that's besides the point. I'm still a baby skydiver anyways. Still just a student. Maybe I'll have more to say when I've got more jumps, but by then you'll all be tired of my rambling about jumping anyways. :)
Suffice it to say, I really love to jump. It scares the bejeezus out of me but it is uniquely wonderful. I can't wait for the next one.
Monday, July 20, 2009
there's no such thing as a perfectly good airplane
Can you find me in the photo?
Couldn't keep myself outta the sky. I decided to head on up to the dropzone for AFF Level 2 on Saturday afternoon. I dragged my ever-so-patient "person" (Grey's Anatomy reference) up with me. I can count on my hand the people I could bring anywhere (because they can blaze their own friendships and be comfortable in any new place without needing me by their side the whole time) and she's one of them.
It already feels like a little family there for me. Hugs, hellos, more hugs...I could get used to that. I had called on my way to the dz, and my instructor had answered, saying they'd figure out a way to fit me in around the multiple tandems scheduled for the afternoon. Helps to be a favorite student. ;)
Now, before I launch into much else, I'll have you know that the temperature, by my measurements, was approximately oh, seventy-eleven-billion-and-a-half. Hot by anyone's standards. So any kind of activity is pretty much miserable. Solution: get up to 10,500. It's a little cooler up there.
This lesson was muuuuuuuuch shorter, and consisted of learning some turns and how to fly forward in freefall. To turn, you look over a shoulder and tilt your upper torso ever so slightly, and then recover the turn. To fly forward, arms go back a little, legs straighten, and then you're like superman! Conceptually, I understood, and after some practice on the ground I was ready for some altitude.
We ended up having to wait a while for space on a load, since our little plane only holds four besides the pilot, and until level 4, I have to fly with two instructors. I think we finally suited up around 3 and let me tell you that putting on that jumpsuit in 100+ degree heat was vaguely unpleasant. Add 40 lbs of student rig, and you not only look like a ninja turtle (I flew in Green Bean, the lucky green jumpsuit) but you feel kinda weighed down.
Greg showed me how to do a gear check, and then let me put on my rig myself. Soon enough, it was go time.
We climbed onto the little Cessna and started the ascent to altitude. It takes about 20 minutes to climb to 10,500, so there's plenty of time to visualize everything, and plenty of time to get nervous. The first time, you don't know exactly what to expect, but the second time you remember. And it's kinda scarier!
Greg made me review everything for him, from the exit to the landing, and we practiced hand signals. At altitude, we climbed out (Dave was on my left...he hadn't been on my Level 1 and he's the dz owner, so I wanted to do well...). Hotel check, prop, up, down, arch thousand two thousand three thousand...
And this time I found the horizon pretty easily, checked my altitude, did a quick practice touch and started my turns. Right turn: textbook. So unexpectedly textbook that I didn't feel like I did anything. Left turn: botched. Tried to think about it and ended up totally screwing it up, the realization of which made me lose my arch a little. No bueno. Checked altitude and had enough time to try flying forward, which was pretty easy. Checked altitude again, and...pull time.
Pulled, turn right, turn left, flare...all was in working order. I found my play area and stayed there, then went in for my landing pattern, which I had a little more trouble with than last time and almost ended up short. I flared (braked) about eight feet too high, but still managed to stand it up. Woo-hoo!!
Sarah came out and helped me gather my canopy, and we went on back to the hangar. Greg and I debriefed, and he actually made me feel a little better about the whole dive. I definitely fixated on that left turn waaaaaay too much, so it was good to see it all a little more objectively. And I passed, which means I get to move on to level 3.
Skydiving is teaching me to control anxiousness in light of ambition, something I definitely could use practice in. I want to fly by myself. I want to wingsuit someday. I want to fly more and more and more. But I have to be patient, and I have to pace myself and focus on where I am right now. This minute, this place, this day.
Friday, July 17, 2009
explanation of why I have been so tired this week...
Part 1: Learning to Fly Solo
My first day of jump school (which refers to the many hours you have to spend with an instructor learning the basics of skydiving) was many hours long. I woke up bright and early to make my 8 a.m. appointment at the dropzone—which is 40+ minutes away—and was still a little late. No harm done, as my instructor pulled up ten minutes after I did.
We got going right away, and Greg (the instructor) wasted no time.
“Why do you want to skydive?” he asked me straightaway. My answer essentially came down to the fact that up there in the sky, I can only be there and nowhere else, and that is a realization I LOVE. I live a noisy, busy life, and so the places where I can pare that down to only the moment (climbing, jumping) are precious to me.
We then watched a short video, talked some more, and then stepped outside to start learning exit procedures (i.e. “what you do when it’s time to get out of the darn plane”). Over and over we practiced, adding more and more steps until it was all I could do to remember my own name. I walked around all day throwing my arms up and around like a crazy person, mouthing my sequence to make it second nature. I must have looked a sight.
All day was one-on-one, so I had plenty of opportunity to work through my fears and doubts and mistakes before hitting the skies. The hardest part for me was learning to keep going when I messed up. My perfectionist tendencies, which I’d like to think are pretty mild, came out in full force as I’d stop and hesitate upon realizing a mistake. This was something I had to get over—and fast. There is no room for hesitating up there, just identifying mistakes and fixing them. What a great lesson for me…
I was given about twenty minutes to myself pre-jump to practice/eat/settle my nerves. I did a couple sun salutations and a few more mock exits, and then it was time. Come jump time, we suited up (my jumpsuit was a lovely pink…that tidbit was for you, @unredacted & @cupcakemafia) and climbed in the little bitty plane.
I was NERVOUS. This was it. I kept meeting Greg’s eyes looking for something that would help settle me down, and he offered quite a bit of confidence in me, which helped. My other jumpmaster, Aldo, who I’d exchanged quips with throughout the day expressed confidence as well. We practiced some hand signals, took some deep breaths, and soon enough we were at altitude.
The door opened and we climbed out.
Check in. Check out. Prop. Up, down (let go)…arch thousand, two thousand, three thousand…and we’re flying. Flanked on either side, I easily found a good body position and started practice touches (reaching behind me to touch my parachute’s pull cord), checking altitudes until 5500. The wave off (a process by which I announce my intentions to pull my cord and open my canopy) and…it all slows down. Suddenly I’m by myself, surrounded by silent air five thousand feet up with just radio contact to keep me company.
I followed the directions given me from the ground, turning and stopping when asked, and pretty easily located my “play area” and landing zone. I played (“hey Katie, pull right—HARD…okay okay, stop the spin…”—which later I would find out solidified my already developing reputation for being a “try anything”-type, given that I felt comfortable with it) and the landing went allllllmost perfectly. I turned at all the prescribed altitudes, then flared at exactly the right height…touched down…surfed the field for a second…and ate it. Darn if I couldn’t walk it out and stand up that blasted landing.
I could tell it went well as soon as Greg came out to help me gather my canopy. He met me with a hug and congratulations and perhaps the greatest compliment of the day (from a self-described “hard-ass”): that was the best first jump I’ve seen in at least two years. I was shaking with all the excitement and smiling from one ear on up to the other. We walked on in to the hangar and debriefed. We talked about what went well and what went okay and decided my strength was in freefall, where I’d experienced hardly a wobble, and that my canopy work wasn’t too bad either. There were definitely a few improvements to be made, though. (Next jump!)
I was instructed first to leave my jumpsuit on the couch, but then Greg changed his mind, saying “nevermind that! you’re one of us…go hang it up!”. I was flattered, and probably retorted back with some snarky comment as I walked over to the closet. I sat down with Aldo and had a good long talk about why he jumps and why I want to. What a wonderful teddy-bear/kind-uncle of a person. Just good good good feelings from/about him.
I spent a little more time socializing, then headed home to watch the kids for the rest of the evening—and let me tell you, I was so tired come then I could barely stand up. I can’t wait to go back for level two…maybe this weekend or next?
Part 2: Climbing in Yosemite (or On Becoming a Trad Girl)
Without missing a beat (I did, however, miss more sleep than I should have) I got up well before the sun on Sunday for the drive up to Yosemite to meet @RikRay for my first day of trad climbing (wiki: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Traditional_climbing). I had been up far too late the night before making a list of what to pack for the two-day climbing trip, laying it all out on a towel in the hallway, and finishing laundry. Thusly, I started the day tired. However, as any climbing day (or rather, ANY day, for that matter) requires coffee or its derivatives to begin properly, I felt much better after caffeinating and fueling. I filled my tank, bought some groceries, and set off for the Valley.
The drive up was pleasant, and I made sure to call my parents just to let them know I was going to be gallivanting around a few hundred feet up off the beaten path and that I’d check in in a couple of days.
Upon arriving in the Valley, I promptly got lost (which only happened because I felt comfortable enough with the place to not look up directions for our meetup point) and was 40 minutes late meeting @RikRay. Thankfully, he turned out to be exceptionally forgiving and unconcerned. Pretty much immediately we set off for the base of Manure Pile Buttress to head up After Six, a six-pitch trad climb and my first time climbing either multiple pitches OR trad. I asked the usual multitude of questions and we roped up. I followed, cleaning (or “pulling out”) gear (or “those funny-looking things climbers stick in the cracks in the rock”), managing to drop one and only one piece, and on the first pitch.
The whole climb took only a couple hours, even as slow as we were moving, stopping to talk about all aspects of the climb. I had a lot of time to myself while climbing (and well-within my ability as far as difficulty) to think about my fear of exposure and heights and deal with that. I think that primarily gym climbers have to deal moreso with the transition to trusting gear and rope—something you learn through experience if you start and spend a lot of time outside. Indoors, I climb a pretty consistent 5.10, but outdoors I got all kinds of sketched out on even 5.7 and I didn’t even lead! (Didn’t let on too much, did I @RikRay?)
We scrambled the descent talking about our fellow twitter friends and their blogs, and decided upon reaching the base that we’d take a break as it would soon be the hottest part of the day. We made our way over to the El Cap meadow and bridge, where we met Holly. Holly had taken a nasty beating on the second pitch of her latest El Cap experience and two-and-a-half weeks later still looked like hell. But smiling and willing to talk about El Cap with any and every person who stopped to look through the telescopes at the climbers on the wall.
@RikRay and I then headed for Jamcrack, where he led one last pitch and I followed. Had we had more daylight, I would have likely tried to lead it, but as it was we were able to set up a toprope on Bummer and Bum Fingers, both 5.10s! I fell a couple times but fought my way up the cuticle chewing finger crack, feeling pretty good about the day.
After that, we drove back over to my car out at the bridge, bid our farewells and I headed off for Tuolumne to meet up with @rockgrrl and her posse of climber friends. The drive (I had never been to Tuolumne!) was pleasantly gorgeous and I managed not to get lost this time, arriving just after sunset to welcoming hugs and a warm fire, plus some dinner on top of that! I got situated and soon another friend pulled up. The four of us (me, @rockgrrl, Jamie, & Peter) set up a night slackline which none of us did well on and stayed up late talking about our climbing histories and the next day’s plans.
I slept moderately well, getting particularly cold just before sunrise. I managed to doze until just after 7, when @rockgrrl woke up and we talked before extracting ourselves from the little two-person tent she graciously shared with me. Oatmeal ensued, complete with bananas and, in my case, coffee. Then it was time to assemble ourselves to head to Medlicott Dome.
We found our way to the dome, after a 45-minute detour at the wrong trailhead before we realized the approach was FAR easier than the guidebook had noted. True to the book, the actual approach was terrible and tested my capacity both to withstand incessant mosquitos and to fend off an asthma attack. I stopped often, making sure I could get a full breath before continuing. The last thing I needed, as the new climber on this trip, was to have an issue with breathing and worry everyone and cause a hullaballo.
FINALLY we arrived at the base of D’oh, where we assembled the necessary gear. The boys took more, since they were headed up three pitches and us girls would only do one and then toprope some nearby climbs. The boys set off and @rockgrrl and I waited, talking more about twitter and climbing and really anything that struck our fancies. (Not that we’re fancy, at least I know I’M not fancy…) I followed her up the pitch, managing to leave a little skin behind in the sharp crystal-y crack. We set up our toprope and by that time the boys were on their rappel. I was absolutely wiped from the weekend’s festivities, but Jamie and @rockgrrl managed to convince me to try the 10a toprope, which proved to be easier than I thought it would. I cut my teeth, so to speak, on glassy, sweaty slabs near my town and so the features there seemed juggy by comparison.
Jamie did the topropes, and then we broke down the setup and headed home, happily tired and stinky and hungry. I ate a quick dinner, packed up, and reluctantly said my goodbyes. By the time I got on the road, it was just after 7. The drive home was decidedly boring and took entirely longer than I expected on account of the fact that they decided to do late-night road construction on my route home. I arrived home dirty, scraped up, slightly sunburned, mosquito-bitten, and ready for bed. I took a mildly painful shower and crawled happily into my queen size pillowtop.
I slept well Monday night, and had to wake up way too early for my taste, but as usual, with a little bit of coffee I was able to make do. And here I am, still a little beat up but restlessly anticipating my next adventure…
Thanks to all parties involved for the great weekend and for being such wonderful people...I can't wait to meet more climber tweeps and convert some of you to jumping. :)
My first day of jump school (which refers to the many hours you have to spend with an instructor learning the basics of skydiving) was many hours long. I woke up bright and early to make my 8 a.m. appointment at the dropzone—which is 40+ minutes away—and was still a little late. No harm done, as my instructor pulled up ten minutes after I did.
We got going right away, and Greg (the instructor) wasted no time.
“Why do you want to skydive?” he asked me straightaway. My answer essentially came down to the fact that up there in the sky, I can only be there and nowhere else, and that is a realization I LOVE. I live a noisy, busy life, and so the places where I can pare that down to only the moment (climbing, jumping) are precious to me.
We then watched a short video, talked some more, and then stepped outside to start learning exit procedures (i.e. “what you do when it’s time to get out of the darn plane”). Over and over we practiced, adding more and more steps until it was all I could do to remember my own name. I walked around all day throwing my arms up and around like a crazy person, mouthing my sequence to make it second nature. I must have looked a sight.
All day was one-on-one, so I had plenty of opportunity to work through my fears and doubts and mistakes before hitting the skies. The hardest part for me was learning to keep going when I messed up. My perfectionist tendencies, which I’d like to think are pretty mild, came out in full force as I’d stop and hesitate upon realizing a mistake. This was something I had to get over—and fast. There is no room for hesitating up there, just identifying mistakes and fixing them. What a great lesson for me…
I was given about twenty minutes to myself pre-jump to practice/eat/settle my nerves. I did a couple sun salutations and a few more mock exits, and then it was time. Come jump time, we suited up (my jumpsuit was a lovely pink…that tidbit was for you, @unredacted & @cupcakemafia) and climbed in the little bitty plane.
I was NERVOUS. This was it. I kept meeting Greg’s eyes looking for something that would help settle me down, and he offered quite a bit of confidence in me, which helped. My other jumpmaster, Aldo, who I’d exchanged quips with throughout the day expressed confidence as well. We practiced some hand signals, took some deep breaths, and soon enough we were at altitude.
The door opened and we climbed out.
Check in. Check out. Prop. Up, down (let go)…arch thousand, two thousand, three thousand…and we’re flying. Flanked on either side, I easily found a good body position and started practice touches (reaching behind me to touch my parachute’s pull cord), checking altitudes until 5500. The wave off (a process by which I announce my intentions to pull my cord and open my canopy) and…it all slows down. Suddenly I’m by myself, surrounded by silent air five thousand feet up with just radio contact to keep me company.
I followed the directions given me from the ground, turning and stopping when asked, and pretty easily located my “play area” and landing zone. I played (“hey Katie, pull right—HARD…okay okay, stop the spin…”—which later I would find out solidified my already developing reputation for being a “try anything”-type, given that I felt comfortable with it) and the landing went allllllmost perfectly. I turned at all the prescribed altitudes, then flared at exactly the right height…touched down…surfed the field for a second…and ate it. Darn if I couldn’t walk it out and stand up that blasted landing.
I could tell it went well as soon as Greg came out to help me gather my canopy. He met me with a hug and congratulations and perhaps the greatest compliment of the day (from a self-described “hard-ass”): that was the best first jump I’ve seen in at least two years. I was shaking with all the excitement and smiling from one ear on up to the other. We walked on in to the hangar and debriefed. We talked about what went well and what went okay and decided my strength was in freefall, where I’d experienced hardly a wobble, and that my canopy work wasn’t too bad either. There were definitely a few improvements to be made, though. (Next jump!)
I was instructed first to leave my jumpsuit on the couch, but then Greg changed his mind, saying “nevermind that! you’re one of us…go hang it up!”. I was flattered, and probably retorted back with some snarky comment as I walked over to the closet. I sat down with Aldo and had a good long talk about why he jumps and why I want to. What a wonderful teddy-bear/kind-uncle of a person. Just good good good feelings from/about him.
I spent a little more time socializing, then headed home to watch the kids for the rest of the evening—and let me tell you, I was so tired come then I could barely stand up. I can’t wait to go back for level two…maybe this weekend or next?
Part 2: Climbing in Yosemite (or On Becoming a Trad Girl)
Without missing a beat (I did, however, miss more sleep than I should have) I got up well before the sun on Sunday for the drive up to Yosemite to meet @RikRay for my first day of trad climbing (wiki: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Traditional_climbing). I had been up far too late the night before making a list of what to pack for the two-day climbing trip, laying it all out on a towel in the hallway, and finishing laundry. Thusly, I started the day tired. However, as any climbing day (or rather, ANY day, for that matter) requires coffee or its derivatives to begin properly, I felt much better after caffeinating and fueling. I filled my tank, bought some groceries, and set off for the Valley.
The drive up was pleasant, and I made sure to call my parents just to let them know I was going to be gallivanting around a few hundred feet up off the beaten path and that I’d check in in a couple of days.
Upon arriving in the Valley, I promptly got lost (which only happened because I felt comfortable enough with the place to not look up directions for our meetup point) and was 40 minutes late meeting @RikRay. Thankfully, he turned out to be exceptionally forgiving and unconcerned. Pretty much immediately we set off for the base of Manure Pile Buttress to head up After Six, a six-pitch trad climb and my first time climbing either multiple pitches OR trad. I asked the usual multitude of questions and we roped up. I followed, cleaning (or “pulling out”) gear (or “those funny-looking things climbers stick in the cracks in the rock”), managing to drop one and only one piece, and on the first pitch.
The whole climb took only a couple hours, even as slow as we were moving, stopping to talk about all aspects of the climb. I had a lot of time to myself while climbing (and well-within my ability as far as difficulty) to think about my fear of exposure and heights and deal with that. I think that primarily gym climbers have to deal moreso with the transition to trusting gear and rope—something you learn through experience if you start and spend a lot of time outside. Indoors, I climb a pretty consistent 5.10, but outdoors I got all kinds of sketched out on even 5.7 and I didn’t even lead! (Didn’t let on too much, did I @RikRay?)
We scrambled the descent talking about our fellow twitter friends and their blogs, and decided upon reaching the base that we’d take a break as it would soon be the hottest part of the day. We made our way over to the El Cap meadow and bridge, where we met Holly. Holly had taken a nasty beating on the second pitch of her latest El Cap experience and two-and-a-half weeks later still looked like hell. But smiling and willing to talk about El Cap with any and every person who stopped to look through the telescopes at the climbers on the wall.
@RikRay and I then headed for Jamcrack, where he led one last pitch and I followed. Had we had more daylight, I would have likely tried to lead it, but as it was we were able to set up a toprope on Bummer and Bum Fingers, both 5.10s! I fell a couple times but fought my way up the cuticle chewing finger crack, feeling pretty good about the day.
After that, we drove back over to my car out at the bridge, bid our farewells and I headed off for Tuolumne to meet up with @rockgrrl and her posse of climber friends. The drive (I had never been to Tuolumne!) was pleasantly gorgeous and I managed not to get lost this time, arriving just after sunset to welcoming hugs and a warm fire, plus some dinner on top of that! I got situated and soon another friend pulled up. The four of us (me, @rockgrrl, Jamie, & Peter) set up a night slackline which none of us did well on and stayed up late talking about our climbing histories and the next day’s plans.
I slept moderately well, getting particularly cold just before sunrise. I managed to doze until just after 7, when @rockgrrl woke up and we talked before extracting ourselves from the little two-person tent she graciously shared with me. Oatmeal ensued, complete with bananas and, in my case, coffee. Then it was time to assemble ourselves to head to Medlicott Dome.
We found our way to the dome, after a 45-minute detour at the wrong trailhead before we realized the approach was FAR easier than the guidebook had noted. True to the book, the actual approach was terrible and tested my capacity both to withstand incessant mosquitos and to fend off an asthma attack. I stopped often, making sure I could get a full breath before continuing. The last thing I needed, as the new climber on this trip, was to have an issue with breathing and worry everyone and cause a hullaballo.
FINALLY we arrived at the base of D’oh, where we assembled the necessary gear. The boys took more, since they were headed up three pitches and us girls would only do one and then toprope some nearby climbs. The boys set off and @rockgrrl and I waited, talking more about twitter and climbing and really anything that struck our fancies. (Not that we’re fancy, at least I know I’M not fancy…) I followed her up the pitch, managing to leave a little skin behind in the sharp crystal-y crack. We set up our toprope and by that time the boys were on their rappel. I was absolutely wiped from the weekend’s festivities, but Jamie and @rockgrrl managed to convince me to try the 10a toprope, which proved to be easier than I thought it would. I cut my teeth, so to speak, on glassy, sweaty slabs near my town and so the features there seemed juggy by comparison.
Jamie did the topropes, and then we broke down the setup and headed home, happily tired and stinky and hungry. I ate a quick dinner, packed up, and reluctantly said my goodbyes. By the time I got on the road, it was just after 7. The drive home was decidedly boring and took entirely longer than I expected on account of the fact that they decided to do late-night road construction on my route home. I arrived home dirty, scraped up, slightly sunburned, mosquito-bitten, and ready for bed. I took a mildly painful shower and crawled happily into my queen size pillowtop.
I slept well Monday night, and had to wake up way too early for my taste, but as usual, with a little bit of coffee I was able to make do. And here I am, still a little beat up but restlessly anticipating my next adventure…
Thanks to all parties involved for the great weekend and for being such wonderful people...I can't wait to meet more climber tweeps and convert some of you to jumping. :)
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
from a grown-up sized kid's perspective
About three weeks ago, I moved in with a family that has four kids (ages 7, 5, 3 & 19 months). I love it. I get to help out with the kids and the house, and in exchange get to live out in the blissfully streetlight-less country, replete with beetles and roly-polys and vagrant Chihuahuas (don’t ask, I don’t really know).
I’ve been thinking about my favorite things about living with kids, and thought it’d be good to hash them out via the blogosphere if for no other reason than to organize them as they careen about in my already full brain.
So here goes.
I love the routine. They get up early, they crash early. I get to fit in to that routine to some degree, and my body loves it. Best sleep schedule I’ve had in years. There’s a level of expectation and schedule that kids’ bodies and minds demand and they function better at that level. They require it. Reminds me I sort of do too.
I love learning the fine fine art of distraction. There is nothing more effective in defusing an argument than distracting one or both parties. What an illustration of how we choose what most occupies us at that moment. What is most attractive. I’m sure we never really grow out of that.
I get to PLAY. Monday we rode bikes in the backyard, which sounds harmless but really resembles more of “we mountain biked through the field that extends past the first fence and way out to the second”. I am constantly impressed and interested in what these kids accomplish. Little goals and little benchmarks become big deals, because they are and they should be. Things like the first jump off the diving board, when you’re so scared because you’re in the deep end and your floaties might not save you even though Mom keeps telling you you’ll be fine. Reminds me not to forget to get excited about the little things, and to try things that seem hard or scary.
I like bugs. I like hunting for roly-polys and I like catching mosquito eaters and I like when I can’t get all the dirt from under my fingernails. I like inventing excuses to get the kids outside mostly so I can be outside too. They get along better out there, and everything’s always new. There’s always something to find and explore and examine.
I have yet to come up with any reasons not to love where I am, because even in the moments where things are noisy or busy or messy or (gasp!) stinky, it’s easy to feel blessed and alive.
I’ve been thinking about my favorite things about living with kids, and thought it’d be good to hash them out via the blogosphere if for no other reason than to organize them as they careen about in my already full brain.
So here goes.
I love the routine. They get up early, they crash early. I get to fit in to that routine to some degree, and my body loves it. Best sleep schedule I’ve had in years. There’s a level of expectation and schedule that kids’ bodies and minds demand and they function better at that level. They require it. Reminds me I sort of do too.
I love learning the fine fine art of distraction. There is nothing more effective in defusing an argument than distracting one or both parties. What an illustration of how we choose what most occupies us at that moment. What is most attractive. I’m sure we never really grow out of that.
I get to PLAY. Monday we rode bikes in the backyard, which sounds harmless but really resembles more of “we mountain biked through the field that extends past the first fence and way out to the second”. I am constantly impressed and interested in what these kids accomplish. Little goals and little benchmarks become big deals, because they are and they should be. Things like the first jump off the diving board, when you’re so scared because you’re in the deep end and your floaties might not save you even though Mom keeps telling you you’ll be fine. Reminds me not to forget to get excited about the little things, and to try things that seem hard or scary.
I like bugs. I like hunting for roly-polys and I like catching mosquito eaters and I like when I can’t get all the dirt from under my fingernails. I like inventing excuses to get the kids outside mostly so I can be outside too. They get along better out there, and everything’s always new. There’s always something to find and explore and examine.
I have yet to come up with any reasons not to love where I am, because even in the moments where things are noisy or busy or messy or (gasp!) stinky, it’s easy to feel blessed and alive.
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