Heading South: changing seasons, rearview mirrors & feeling small

Returning back to Minnesota with 60 degree sunshine pounding the pavement.
Tooling around on the lend-away-banjo, playing the only four chords I have been able to muster.

Flagstaff Arizona - Blind Spot Creatives
 


I spent the last two weeks down South in the desert beauty of Arizona and Utah - starting off with a visit to grandmas and ending the week wandering with a fellow ramblin' gypsy soul. I always leave as if I'm going to find something, figure something out, let something go, come back with new eyes... and I guess, in a subtle, quiet way, that might be the case. But for the most part, things aren't different, just deeper, maybe understood a little more clearly.

 
Blind Spot Creatives - Grand Canyon Sunrise
 

I woke up well before the sunrise in order to climb out of my sleeping bag and navigate the backroads in the pitch black. Heading North making it to the South Rim of the Grand Canyon with an hour to spare. The stars were still glowing as a gentle haze hit the horizon. I perched myself off in the distance in an attempt to avoid the crowds, watching as the sun slowly changed the landscape.

New layers revealed with each minute that passed.

6 billion year old sediment finding its way from weathered storms and erosion... it made me think how precious time and patience really are. Change takes time - in the case of some of the most beautiful landscapes the world has to offer, it takes a lot of time.

And so do I....

 
National Monument Utah - Blind Spot Creatives
 

As the day wore on I continued my journey towards Utah. Passing by on Arizona 89 winding through the lush greenery of spring, I begin to notice the rearview... A chance to glance at what was just witnessed with a sense of departure and appreciation - never looking too long, because in doing so I'd miss what lies ahead. 

Hours were spent weaving through National Monument. Once upon a time it was the home of a sub-tropical rainforest with evidence of dinosaurs and evolutionary findings. Now a hot, hollow desert landscape. The colors, textures and terrain changed with every curve in the road.

Change, change is all around us.

 
Blind Spot Creatives - Blooming Cactus
 

I arrived in Zion. My last trip out was in November. The air was colder then, the roads dustier, the trees limp of life. The seasons had transitioned as the cottonwoods lined the valley floor, a whole new face painted as the sage had a turquoise hue contrasting the bright red and orange sandstone and the cactus blooms just beginning to bud. 

 
Zion National Park - Blind Spot Creatives
 

The week was in constant movement with little sense of time, almost no direction and a bit of space for reflection. Each look-out another opportunity to pause, soak in the scene, to breathe. Everything around me was bigger than life, simple, adaptable... Momentarily provoking a small, unimportant, frivilous feeling.

If only I could hold on to this moment and carry it with me everywhere I go...

 
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Lying on the rocks looking at the world spin upside down, I wonder why it is so easy to become forgetful, caught up and deluded to my emotions. Somewhere deep inside hides an identification, a super-imposed significance, the idea that the universe revolves around me and my pettiness. As the shadows dance upon the pines I fill with humility, followed with humbleness. 

 
Mike Dunn - Blind Spot Creatives
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I'm not the easiest person to spend extended amounts of time with. I have this horrible tendency to be overbearing, honest to a fault, casting off unruly, unnecessary, and unrealistic expectations... However, the company shared was a graceful reminder to how important it is to have people challenge you, to question your train of thought and to keep your emotions in check. Oh, how I appreciate the genuine.

 
Zion Trees - Blind Spot Creatives
 

Friday morning I awoke early, hours before a lick of light. Rain in the desert, what a send off. I was filled with emotion, I don't know how to define it, and I'm not sure it matters all that much... but the patter of water on a tin top magnified whatever was held inside. 

Life can go on without any question, simply in terms of black and white, this or that, like or dislike - split up, fragmented, or completely unobserved. Maybe it'd be simpler that way. However, I find, or rather make, meaning out of everything. Piecing together memory with reality, imagination with rationality, using the external world as a mirror, a reminder, that there is more to this life than the stories within my head. 

 
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Waiting to board the redeye home as the movie reel begins to spin. Replaying the conversations, reliving the experiences, reflecting on some of my hindrances.... Too often I find myself trying to force change, grasping at peak experiences, with desire as my motivation. What I am learning, and forgetting, and remembering, and relearning is I have very little control to what happens in life, to what I feel. Clinging to these emotions and experiences, claiming them as mine, and holding on for dear life in attempt to make them last.

 
Dead flowers - Blind Spot Creatives
 

Nothing lasts, and it's not supposed to. Everything, always, is in constant flux. That is what makes life beautiful - the uncertainty, the mystery, the unpredictability. At times it's uncomfortable to let go, it's unsteady to stand on sinking sand. There is absolutely no stability in life and my seeking and searching for it seems to be the cause of all my undue suffering. This ignorant desire also casts the belief that things aren't 'good enough' as they are, that somehow I am supposed to twist and contort experience to fit in a box, and if it doesn't fit, I shove it in... 

Dozing off in an empty isle as my head bobs to and fro. The pilot announces our return to Minneapolis. As I peer out the window I witness the sun rising below me. Another new day, fresh, open and always changing. I accept that, I welcome it and I begin. 

 

Note to Self: The Illusion of Indolence

12.27.17
Note to Self: The Illusion of Indolence
Journal Reflection

On the surface, things seem idle and indolent.
However, it is here, in these quiet hours, that the most visceral discoveries reveal themselves.
It is the little whispers of wisdom you must greet with the widest appreciation.
For their value is not yet tangible, though with trust and patience, virtue will be uncovered.
Do what you enjoy and the sweetest fruit will fill your fortune.
It is a daily practice in which your fears and doubts cease to influence.
You realize what you do today is all that matters and finally
YOU BEGIN.

What is it you're living for?

You can't turn back the clock.
At some point you have to really look
yourself in the mirror and ask

"AM I SHOWING UP"?
 

Our passions do not come randomly.
They are sent to us as a guide to
move forward in a meaningful way.
Life is short and it only gets shorter-
what is it you're living for?

I've been contemplating the existential question of

"WHAT IS MY PURPOSE"

since as long as I can remember.
The signs kept pointing in the same direction.
But I'd avoid it, push it off until tomorrow.
"I'll begin another day" 
"I'm too busy right now"
"I'm not ready"
"What will people think".

Excuse Me While I Interrupt...

Oh, how often I steal from the moment due to my habitual need
to chime in and provide 'help' or (most often unwanted) insight.
I've begun to notice this impulse each time I interrupt the conversation.
Frequently filling the gaps with "I know...." or "you should try this"....
On the surface it seems innocent and meaningless,
dressed in false empathy and support.
However, what I've realized is how little I listen
and how often I feel the need to defend MY opinion, MY experience, MY ego. 

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Context: I've been receiving and responding to Snail Mail from a very dear friend living out West. At first these letters were nice means of keeping in touch, in a meaningful way. However, the depth and degree of each handwritten note continues to surprise me. My ability to recognize such personal pitfalls is not foreign, however being able to share these with another has definitely become a new practice. A practice that is proving to be extremely helpful in creating positive (almost effortless) changes in my habits & impulses.

Step #1. Notice.
Step #2. Accept.
Step #3. Let Go.


Dear ......

After our last phone conversation I felt a pitiful sense of regret for my pushy opinions and subtle [not at all] means of 'advice'.
After a day of such remorse I opened your letter...
"The practice of providing, not pushing."

I'm sure you've picked up on my impulsive need to toss in my two cents.
Please be assured this forcefulness has been a demon since as long as I can remember,
& is most definitely recognized as a shameful incompetency-
one I'm trying to tame. 

I am aware, of course (after the fact), that my hasty responses
and 'I know it all' attitude is both a beast and a burden.
I'm also going to assume these patterns are generally brushed off,
maybe even unnoticed. 

However, this is a shadow I've been dancing with two left feet.
So instead of running from it, I'll dwell a bit longer....

The question then becomes:
What is it I'm trying to defend?

This habit is not found solely in long distance phone calls, it has plagued me throughout all relationships. 

Another question arises:
Why do I feel the need to be heard?
What is it that I'm retorting?
And why exactly do I attach myself so strongly to personal beliefs & opinions?

The answer is not solid, but I must start somewhere...
Maybe it is an empty seat filled with overwhelming doubt?
A lack of self esteem? A tactile response to keeping my head above water?
Instead of focusing on Self, I reflect on the gaps of the external world. 

Is there a difference? 
Only in the name I give it.

All-in-all, my ego screams to be heard.
This life, these relationships/connections are nothing less
than puddles of pooled lessons, mere reflections.

Am I doing it right? Am I being fulfilled?

If all I see is unfulfillment (flaws, faults, deficiencies) of others, that can only mean a void lies within. To combat the dirty downfall I welcome an integration - to practice listening more than I speak.

Please, be patient with my process.....

Love always,
Alyssa
12.14.17