Nothing to write about

So I have nothing to really write about, but for some reason feel compelled to begin putting down some words anyways. At my new residence, we have so many opportunities to do things not possible where I previously resided. Today was a gorgeous day by any account. Mid 30's, sunny, and snow on the ground provided the groundwork for a few great hours of cross country skiing. We have a wonderful "course" aptly named silvermoon. One night while telemark skiing I slammed my knee into my ski taking off a layer of the topcoat on my ski pants. By the time I arrived back at my house I could barely bend my knee, and it hurt like crazy. I'm talking about the hurt were not even moving, you bend over and writhe in the pain, twisting and turning. Now I am a firm believer that recovering from injuries is made easier with some activity, getting the blood flowing through injured areas, and loosening up swollen bruises. I can not say that I have any medical training, or research to document this theory, but it has always worked for me.

Luckily we had some liquor at the house so I had a few vodka-tonics to ease the pain, and since it was still snowing outside there was no other moral choice but to put on the xc skis and go explore. The exploration was a raving success, a great workout, and therapeutic for my knee. Towards the end of my gawky ski session, the snow stopped and the moon peaked out. The reflection of the moon on my skis, and the tracks of packed down snow seemed oddly silver....or was that the vodka-tonics?

The snow last night made the day session unbelievably good. Josh, Forrest and I found some new trails, did the classic uphills and downhills, and even a jump here and there. Halfway through we stopped and had frozen slush beers, and continued to enjoy the day. We felt liberated and free compared to the bundled up drivers we would occasionally see going down the road. Wearing one layer and sweating while laughing with friends is incomparable to sitting in a cold automobile, thinking the sweating kids are crazy. I hope the snow sticks around a little longer so we can track it up again tomorrow and for days to come.

Thus concludes my sloppy array of run-on sentences!

Nothing Important

Well there is really nothing important or exciting for me to write about, but I am trying to begin to write at least some words every day. The most exciting thing about today was that I obtained some running shoes, adding to my list of ways in which to get some endorphins flowing. The last time I tried to run I started by doing 1-2 hour runs and rather immediately injuring my knee. My illiotibial band has been the culprit because the constant pedaling motion of the bicycle can certainly tighten some parts of the leg past God's reccomended specs.

The plan is to start by doing short runs and build up muscles that understand how to run, and can make it an efficient work-out. This topic has quickly exhausted itself, so I will proceed to another thought that I had during the day. I was reading about how sometimes we grow really impatient with what God is doing in our lives. This sometimes has made me frustrated beyond belief. In all honesty I feel more likely to forget that I even asked or wanted anything from God, than to truly be patient and see it through to the end. Talk of little faith, eh? So I was of course investigating patience, and things of the sort, and the idea that God will often wait for us pretty much knocked me on my ass. Who am I to ask God to do things in my life while I go do pretty much whatever I want without the intention of growing? This is one of those instances in my life where I am sure that I am the one being waited for. I'm holding up this beautiful ride of sorts, and I intend to make up some ground.

The other option is that I am being overpatient. Most that know me will laugh at how ludicrous that sounds. Honestly it is not that unlikely though because it is far too easy in our society to sit around and wait, rather than really getting out there and making moves.

I was recently hit by a bus

The weekend before last I was hit by a bus, hit and run style. I have been seeking the meaning of my life and what God desires from me, but not really pursuing it with everything I've got. Since the bus made contact I have started to think, "well, why did I survive with minor scrapes and bruises?" God could have taken me right there, ended my struggle here on earth, but chose not to. There is definately a purpose to this, rarely am I so sure as now. There are many areas in my life that could use some improvement, and I have already been in the process of staging my reforms. This blog will serve the sole purpose of being a way for me to channel some thoughts about my life, I don't really care if anyone reads it or not.

Thought number one.

I was reading today in a book of a former athiest in regards to finding proof of God's existence and overturning some of the arguments that cause the msot doubt even amongst fervent believers. I was struck by a refutal to the proposition that God cannot exist if there is evil in the world. It talked about using the standard of good to judge evil, and realistically thinking we can agree that horrible suffering isn't what anyone wants, and really is not the way we were meant to be. Haiti being in everyones thoughts right now, we can all agree that it is devastating and even "not right." That inner ability to decipher what feels wrong to us, is proof that God created us in his image, and to do good. The ability to choose good or evil is the one thing that makes possible. Real love, whether of man or God must involve a choice.

So this morning while discussing the probable causes for the aching in my head I commented, "I guess this is what happens when you try to drink good beers like they are cheap"

It does not seem so funny now on "paper" but I rather enjoyed it.

At this point I would like to say thank you to two Dogfishhead Indian Brown Ales, Cally's Switzer Pale Ale, Cally's Nut Brown Ale, and two Dogfishhead Burton Baton Imperial India Pale Ale's.

I am also thankful for Chanello's and the ability to ride my bike with a pizza.

the travel bug

I have a hard time processing feelings from my travels. My most recent trip took me to the Philippines, Thailand, and Cambodia. It was one of the most monumental experiences I have ever had. The feelings and experiences were so intense, genuine, raw, eye-opening, heart breaking, exhilirating, and beautiful. One aspect that creates perfection in beauty and tragedy is that you will only experience the things you do one time in your life. One single stinking time. No matter where I travel to in my life, or how many times I return, or if I ever return to the Philippines my experiences from each single milisecond in time from my first trip will never ever happen again. Those times exist only in my memory which often creates a painting that is not exact. Pictures, thoughts, sounds, and certainly smells can triggers thoughts and memories so intense that I often get adrenaline. There is not a day that goes by that I do no reflect on my trip or attempt to further the digestive process of my travels. I will often have dreams a few times a week and think, "wow I am really going back!" To wake up after such a dream is a truly a nightmare. The places will be there, but I can never have the same experience. There is not enough that can be said about the people who share one's experience's. The people who are there walking alongside you. When I think back and reflect on my experiences, it makes me ache that I can not have something in my life that is as drastic or rich right now, I will never have those same experiences again and sometimes that makes me want to cry. However I did experience the things I did and I would not change that for the world, I can only wish to change it.

scars

My body is covered in dozens and dozens of scars. There was no tragedy or evil misfortune that befell me, nor do I see the scars as a negative thing. In my mind they are nothing more than a positive thing. I am constantly reminded with each scar that I was not idle, took a risk, fell down, and most importantly got up.  My scars are a sign of affirmation of a life well lived. 

By nature I am a non-conformist. I am a true liberal in the sense of questioning reasons and thoughts behind even the simplest action. I am a firm believer in resiliency as a key ingredient of what makes up the human nature. I know that happiness is not found in material goods, money, or status. Due to wonderful parents I was left with the choice of how I wanted to care for my body. I refuse to be obese, and am torn apart inside when I see an obese child whose parent has robbed them of their freedom to choose. 

My scars are the results of my searchings, and my desire to seek adventure. Ever since I can remember I have been riding bikes and searching mountains and myself while skiing down their slopes. Recently I also became a rock climber. While others are searching for what house, car, jacket, or substance will be the key ingredient for their happiness, I know that I am only content at the end of the day if I have challenged myself. Ropes, wheels, and skis are my repertoire, while roads, trails, snow, rocks, cliffs, and the outdoors are my medium. There is tremendous value in doing one thing each day that scares you. Challenges that combine the efforts of both your mind and your body are the most rewarding. Endorphins are released into your system stimulating the feeling of euphoria, your body conforms and adapts to become stronger, and more efficient, and your body is transformed from a limiter, to an provider of freedom and endless possibilities. Symbiotically unified your body and mind become your greatest asset. Your boundaries are diminished, what you thought was impossible one day becomes possible the next. The stark realization that you can not and will not ever fully understand or reach the limits of what you are capable of tickles your insides and fuels the desire for adventure. Like a tremendous jigsaw each day a new piece comes together and you find that this beautiful puzzle has a grasp on you more powerful than any addiction or craft of man. 

I know that my scars are beautiful. Some disagree, but to me they affirm that I am still working hard to unlock the remaining pieces of this puzzle. Like a ball of clay I have been molded and shaped by my actions and my scars are the proof of my efforts, affirmation of my risks, and incentive to work unrelentingly towards the goal of finding my breaking points. My scars tell me that I am on the right track and fuel the fire inside. I know that I will likely never find out what I am truly capable of. Part of me believes that only dire circumstances or disasters could truly provide the right motivation both of which I do not wish on any person. Still I will keep searching, new scars will be formed, my body will continue to be broken down and rebuilt, each time stronger. 

My final thought is this: You do not know what you are capable of and I fear that you severely under-estimate yourself. You only live once so get out there make your mark on this world, and the world will make its marks on you. Cherish those marks and know that one day when you are near expiration, you will not have to look back on your life, but simply in the mirror to see the proof of a life well spent. 

Intimidation is not the goal or aim of this piece and do know that at the age of 21 when considering myself to be in incredible physical fitness I was beaten by over ten minutes in a triathlon by an 89 year old woman. This only furthers my point that we do not know what we truly are capable of.