path less traveled

The journey continues into Poly Cannon. As I walked, my eyes were open; it felt good to be present in my surroundings. To see little blossoms on the trees as I passed. To feel the bark of the eucalyptus soaring high in the sky.

As I continued, my eyes were drawn to a set of log steps going down toward a flowing stream. I decided to enter the path less traveled. As I descended, the water got louder and louder. To cross the stream, I had to use stepping-stones; this is where my adventure began. It's fascinating how nature brings my mind to childhood in so many ways. It was the biggest thrill to hop from one stone to another. I felt brave.

I made it safe across the "raging rapids" and continued on my way. I continued along the path as it ascending toward the sun. As I climbed, my path became narrower and narrower. I ducked under a branch in attempts to continue, but it had different motives. It clawed and grabbed my backpack with no intentions of releasing. I charged with all my might, and sure enough I broke from its grasp. Freedom. But not for long. I continued and all around were green spear like sprouts coming from yucca plants with their black tips at the end, sharp as needles. I initially was able to dodge these plants, but I continued and they began to overtake my path. I could not avoid them, so I decided to trudge through. They gave me no mercy. Some pierced me good, one on my arm, one on my leg, but never on my feet. I felt like the plants were asking me not to continue, like they were protecting a treasure from people like me who wanted to explore and see things few eyes had seen, but I was not a good listener.

I was amazed at all the trails around me as they weaved in and out almost as if I was in a maze, but what was the final destination? If I got off path, there was another path not too far up the hill. I continued to walk, not sure where I was going or what I was in search for. But I was ready for wherever my feet decided to go.

My eyes focused on a bend far off in the distance. As I continued to weave back and forth along the narrow dirt path, dodging trees and trying not to slip down the hill, I finally reached the point beyond the bent. To my left a huge rock formation was displayed. I looked at it for a while and a face appeared almost as if it was watching me, waiting for me to see it's beauty. Its intricate shadows and carvings created a piece of art within nature. I am beginning to realize that this creation that I am surrounded with is ever more diverse and complex than any hand could design or mind imagine. Yes, humans can sculpt and paint and draw, but creative ability does not come close to experience the creation that surrounds us. To my right a steep cliff plummeted into foliage below. I found a flat rock to sit on, and I pondered.


Time spent at this spot went fast. The sun was setting faster than I had expected, so I got back on foot and continued forward. I hoped that by walking forward, I would find a path back to the main road. As I walked, I reached an open field the 3 cactuses growing. I looked in fascination that they could grow in this lush atmosphere. Cactus is a plant I am only familiar with in western movie landscapes as tumble-weed rolls by and dust is swirling in the air, that or it's growing in a small pot in a friends picture-window. I remember slowly approaching this potted plant's needle, touching it, and finding some odd pleasure in the pain it would surge through my pointer. Seeing this in its natural environment not far from lush grass and trees was a memorable moment.


I continued on, and blocking my path was a fence running along as far as I could see. I realized this is where my adventure had to end. I then descended down the hill and met up with Poly Cannon Road, to walk back into civilization with a feeling of greater connection with the beautiful and diverse landscape I have been surrounded with my years at Cal Poly.

climb

I finally decided to climb. The desire has been raging inside for a year at least. The love began at my grandparent's cabin on Lake Silvia, MN. Outside their small cabin, a huge pine tree grew. I would often hide up there when I wanted to get away from the world around me. "Where's Ruth? Check in the tree." I remember one day climbing to the very top, which gave me an incomparable view of my most favorite body of water. This love continues as I age. I was able to travel to Nigeria when I was 18 where I spent a month with a group of orphan boys living together in a place called the Transition House. There were ripe mangos growing all around the premises, so I could not resist but climb and eat. Elijah was my companion; he would call me monkey girl, which made me laugh..

Today was the day to reconnect with my roots. I was walking down Poly Cannon Road in search of an adventure. I came across this lone ranger of a tree. Its bark was somewhat smooth; the trunk diverged up about 6 1/2 feet, which was just high enough to give me a bit of a challenge to climb. My skills were a bit rusty, and as people were passing by on their afternoon jog, they saw me attempting to climb this humble tree. I took off my shoes in hopes that my bare paws would have better traction than my Birkenstocks. Soon, a jogger stopped and asked me if I would like a boost. She was laughing, which made me think my silly adventure was somehow bringing her joy. I accepted her offer with much appreciation and made my way up up and away. She handed me my shoes to protect my feet on the decent.


I would have thought climbing would be easier as I age due to my lengthened limbs, that wasn't the case. All that aside, I made it for the first time in a long time. I sat there for a few moments running through memories, then I looked out. "I feel like Thoreau" I thought to myself. He climbed trees and discovered things he would have never seen without climbing high.

"For I discovered new mountains in the horizon which I had never seen before, --so much more of the earth and the heavens. I might have walked about the foot of the tree for three score years and ten, and yet I certainly should never have seen them."
-Walking

I don't believe I discovered new mountains, but I did discover a twig forked between the branch I was sitting on. It was dangling in the air which fascinated me because it had to have fallen in an ever so specific way to have hung the way it did. It was there for my eyes only.

The bark of this sycamore was new to my eyes. It felt like a scaly layer of a rough over a smooth base. Its variety of colors fascinated me. When I looked from afar, the bark reminded me of an impressionist painting because of it's distinct chunks of colors appearing to lack detail, but as I got closer, intricate patters and different shades of grey covered it's surface.

Being in the air reminded me that being a kid is such a freeing time. Yes, I was immature and wore big glasses, but to unabashedly climb trees as a frequent activity seems so liberating. So much is making sense all of the sudden. My favorite books were Bernstein Bears, I've always dreamed of living in a tree house, I loved the movie Swiss Family Robinson, and I love climbing trees. There's something magical up here. I was made to breath this air.


I need to get up more often.

drip

My most favorite thing to experience is sitting in a car listening to music in the background while it's raining all around. I was able to enjoy this driving up to Sacramento. We stopped, and sat. I sit in my car watching the raindrops cascade down the windshield. They are racing. Are they trying to prove something, how quick they are, how eager they are to be seeped back into the soil, how alive they are? I would be content watching this for hours.

The sky shows many emotions. It looks angry at some spots, it looks in turmoil, it also looks like it's giving hope, because at certain spots the clouds part. Through the hole that's created, a stream of sun peers through. That stream would not have been visible without the clouds. They act like a team working to bring joys to those who stop to see. I'm thankful my eyes are open today.

Observing the sky creates multiple emotions in me: sorrow, joy, life, destruction, anger, beauty, Feeling alive. I love being from Minnesota and watching people from California get so disturbed when the temperature reaches 45 degrees. It's funny to me. In the same way, weather can bring identity. I feel pride when thinking of what I have endured. The sub-zero temps, the snowstorms, and the added clothing that comes with the winter months. It's especially funny to see people become discombobulated when their hair gets wet. Ha. I love how it makes people slow down and crates an excuse for my hair to look matted and untamed.

It brings so much life to a dry land. I love listening to it pit pat on my ceiling when lying in bed. Especially at my aunt and uncle Leighton's where I would sleep in their attic; I remember one night vividly. I was laying in bed listening to the drumming of the raindrops on the angled ceiling above. I found myself so content and exhilarated eavesdropping on natures tears, when in the distance, a train rumbled past causing even more of a vibration and a new rhythm to the percussion of the drops. My heart jumped in the band creating a three-piece musical ensemble. It's easy to tune out the sounds rain creates, but when I listen, it's breathtaking.

I like to sit in my car when raining is because I feel safe. Don't get me wrong, jumping in puddles and running in the rain is exhilarating, but I have this hidden desire to feel comfort. Sometimes my feeling of adventure overtakes my need for comfort. I like those moments. They seemed to be more prevalent when I was younger. Rain meant that dirt turned into mud, and mud was the best ingredient to make pies. It also meant when I was at my grandparents' cabin, we would put the fruity tablecloth on the kitchen table and get out the playing cards. Something warm to drink would brew on the stove, and we'd play games till the moon was bright. I loved rainy days. I now love them for new reasons.

Rain brings new smells. The earthworms come to the surface and cause this fishy odor. Even though it smells gross, it reminds me of life. This is the perfect time to go fishing.

It stopped raining. It's such a strange and fascinating occurrence to see rain fall in the distance but not experience it. It's like getting off of the baseball field and sitting in the cheap seats. Seeing all the interworkings of the game without experiencing it. I appreciate both aspects.


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girls pick

It was the girls’ turn to plan the date. We decided to be adventurous and take a hike. It was not difficult to find a beautiful trail when living in San Luis Obispo; we stumbled upon a trail next to Lake Lopez. The day was brisk, but the warmth of the sun gleamed on us all.

Lush scenery surrounded our steps. We walked up the path in search of an adventure. The boys collected little treasures for us along the way. My favorite was a smashed bottle cap David had discovered, and it made its way to my special box.


A fallen tree trunk fell over to the left of the path with moss covering its entire surface. We climbed and jumped from its height. I have always enjoyed jungle gyms. It's amazing the life that can grow from something that is dead. What beauty can spring. We continued to walk and my eyes were gazing up at the beautiful trees around me. They seemed so ready to be climbed. I have always enjoyed climbing. It gives me a feeling of accomplishment or freedom; a larger than life feeling that I have overcome fear and obstacles, but I passed on this temptation to climb. I didn't want to fall in front of my boyfriend. Ha.


I correct myself, my favorite thing that David found was this Banana Slug. We watched it for a few minutes, then Brian explained that if you lick the slug, that it would leave a tingle on your tongue. Brian was the first to test the theory, and sure enough we all agreed that it left a numb tingling sensation on your tongue if you give the banana a little lick. We put him back and on the way back, he was gone. He was a pretty speedy slug.

We continued to hike and stopped to eat some snacks. A blanket was laid down on top of some rocky soil where we played a game of pickup sticks which is the first time I've done that in nature. We also had contests to see who could throw rocks the farthest into the great landscape in front of us. The boys always won. They were happy.


We finally reached the top of the hill and saw the vast beauty of creation in front of us. Trees layered the horizon covering different foothills in the distance. Where we stopped, there was a distinct tree all alone perfect to climb and observe the scene. Something I noticed on not only this tree, but on all the trees around was this hanging Spanish moss from almost every branch. It reminded me almost of weeping willows which were my most favorite tree growing up. I would take the branches and make crowns from them and try to swing from branch to branch just to fall on my butt. This dangling moss is beautiful in my eyes. The sun was about to set over the vibrant trees and the rocky cliffs.

The wind picked up, and we were starting to get chilly so we began our decent. We made it down in time to watch the sun set over the glistening lake. The sky was filed with beautiful hues of purple, pink, and orange. The clouds were visibly in motion as they circulated these different colors as the sun continued to set. It was a peaceful feeling. It was quiet and vivid. A surge of peace overwhelmed my senses.

it's bright

Why is the moon out?
I do not remember seeing the glow of the moon as much as I have the past few weeks. I am not referring to the dark nights when its presence is obvious, but I'm referring to its visibility in the winter days. The winder days on the California coast do not compare to those in Minnesota. During the day, the moon was typically hidden from the naked eye, but at night, it would make the whole existence glow reflecting down upon the snow.

The more I look at it, the more intrigued I become. It's presently a fingernail above a nearby foothill. It almost looks like it's trying to find a place to hide. It must feel so naked when the lights are on. And I am reminded again of the wind. As motion continues around me, the moon stands still. Its glow radiates to the ends of the earth. My basic understanding of our universe is that the moon is 24,000 miles away from my current location, but as I stare, it draws me in closer and closer. Almost to the same neighborhood.

What a crazy thought that the moon I see will soon be visible to tribes in the Philippines. The same glow that I use to walk to and fro from classes at night illuminates children's' night games in Tennessee. It's one thing that connects every person, on every continent. It's one thing that we have all seen, that is that we have the capability to see. The more I think about it, the more my mind gets entangled in its beauty.

One night, driving home from Sacramento, it was hovering over the horizon. It was a bright yellow color, and it was 3 times its typical size I have ingrained in my memory. I just gazed at it while buildings and trees and houses were flashing in front of it. I soon forgot and was engaged in conversation to later discover the distance it had traveled over the sky. As it traveled upward, it fit back to the typical stereotyped size of a moon I have in my memory.
What a fascinating aspect of life.

it blows

As I return to the wind, I am reminded of the freedom of childhood games: throwing leaves in the air to watch them swirl above me and soon fall to the ground, throw oak seeds in the air to watch them spin like a helicopter, and imagine ragweed bouncing down the street.

I pride myself in being a girl and having hair that I can unabashedly free from captivity and let soar. The wind makes it alive. As it whips, it doesn't think of being polite or reserved. Don't get me wrong, boys too can experience this freedom, but rare is the case.

Just sitting here looking and connecting with my surroundings grounds me to simple pleasures I often overlook. Pleasures of the feel of an ant crawling over my arm and the feel of every hair being pushed aside. A green bug has landed on my jeans. It's made it from one leg to the other crawling and exploring the grooves and bends of the fabric. It's like watching an obstacle course. It's been five minutes that I have watched this little bug. It's made it all the way across my pants to my left shirtsleeve. bugs are weird.

listening to the wind

As the wind blows softly across the landscape, melodies of sounds explode around me. The more I listen, the greater the orchestra. First a hollow wisp that I feel passing over my auricles. The distant leaves clap and pause. Long reeds whip and wave like a salsa dancer's gown flowing with her quick motions.

Suddenly all comes to a halt just to be heard anew. When I shut my eyes, I can spatially pinpoint where I am located next to my surroundings just based on the noise the wind brings blowing on close by (and far away) objects.

The red-tailed hawk flies in the distance. I can imagine the snap of it's wings as it circles relentlessly soaring with the wind at it's back.

Sound stops but movement continues. A sound means harsh commotion in the landscape, but in silence, the violent arguments turns to the whisper of a lullaby. Although sound in this form personifies anger, I would rather have rich emotion than to be encircled with a polite whisper. Whispers have their place; rage brings excitement to my every emotions.

Wind demands respect, it does not ask politely. It can be as destructive as it is essential. Growing up in Minnesota, I saw the fantastic displays of tornados brewing in the sky. I have seen the vast destructive nature brought leaving houses torn inside out. I saw the desperation in people’s eyes knowing that this weather pattern left them with nothing. Pain comes when you least expect. How does one take out anger towards the wind?