Get your ducks in a row!
Har, har, har.
But actually, for real, that’s a lesson I’ve learned a lot about over the years. Taking care of your business, staying on top of things, and especially how rewarding it can be to be proactive.
Having my ducks in a row lately has meant that when people call for an impromptu meetup, or want to hang out a little longer, or plans get switched last minute, that I don’t have to run back home to cover something I should have already take care of.
The “Let’s do” continues and because most of my other ducks are in a row, I’ve been able to respond and not miss out on the opportunities. For example, I tried one of those paint-your-own ceramics places on an invitation and now I’m pretty sure I should turn pro.
I’m lining up those ducks. It’s not always easy, or fun, but being able to spend more time on the things I *want* to do, because I’m at peace with the things I *need* to do—that has been huge for me over the last little while.
Early morning glow through Mesa Arch 🌅
Due the stories I’ve heard of this place, we arrived at the trailhead well before sunrise and surprisingly were the first ones there. Shortly behind us were two others and for about an hour we stood there just us four talking in the dark thinking we had somehow got lucky and would be the only ones there that day. Well we couldn’t have been more wrong 😂 Within the last 10 minutes right before sunrise about 40 people piled into this small area and it quickly became crammed with people lining their tripods up right on top of one another trying to get a shot of the sun coming up through the arch. Unfortunately, we didn’t get the sunburst through the arch like we had hoped for, nonetheless was still an awesome experience and another mind blowing landscape of the Southwest to check off 🤙
Sitting at the airport waiting for my flight back I am realizing that what if I could travel like this all of the time!?⠀
Finding a way to work remotely & being able to do the things I love is on my list of priorities.⠀
I feel re-energized with a clear vision for my future. It’s going to take some upfront work but trusting in the universe and patiently allowing it show me the way. ⠀
I feel like I don’t have that half foot in feeling anymore. The one where you know you want to do something but fear takes over. I feel completely surrendered and willing to receive all that is to come. ⠀
Thank you for all of the support & love the last couple of months. I know great things are on the horizon. I hope you are buckled up for this journey and I welcome you to come with me. ⠀
I love seeing people go through the same self discovery- tag a friend & let’s all connect!!
Well, it’s official. The high country is socked in with snow. Scenes like this one are now a whiteout.
Seasons are good, I think. But they’re bittersweet. With the coming of a new season, we have to say goodbye to the one that we’re in. Welcoming the bright leaves and crisp air of autumn has meant saying farewell to summer and the bright sun and pool days.
Life has seasons too, I think. How does the saying go? “To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven…” Whether you’re quoting Ecclesiastes or The Byrds, I think it’s still true: there’s a time for everything. A time to be born, to die, to be happy, to be sad, to plant, to harvest, to hike, and to snowshoe.
I’ve been thinking a lot about this recently. About why saying goodbye to seasons of our life can be so sad, or sometimes a happy rite of good riddance. How entering a new season can be exciting, or scary, or welcome, or unwanted. It’s hard sometimes, to believe that any new season could be as good as the one we’re in, so we cling desperately to it. Sometimes I’ve pushed into the winter with a backpacking trip, in full denial, and I’m the guy shivering in my tent saying, “It’s not so bad! It’s still kinda summer!” while the snow is coming down around me. I’ve done it the other way, too. Jumped impatiently into the next season before it was really here. I mean, any trip to a retailer where they set up Christmas décor IN AUGUST is a lesson in jumping the gun.
I’m thinking a lot about living in our season. About embracing whatever current phase we’re going through, for as long as we’re going through it. And how to know when that season is good and done, and how to say goodbye to it and move on. Unlike the earth, we don’t just have four seasons. We have many. And there’s no calendar, so sometimes they seem interminable and sometimes they seem way too short.
I’ve stopped trying to predict when another season is coming, and even let go a little of trying to understand what my current season is totally about. I just know that when I stop pining for a different one and live fully in my season, life is pretty great.
Skyline Drive up Farmington Creek Canyon.
There was a little campground up here named Sunset Camground that just got shut down this year.
I never understand why campgrounds get closed when outdoor recreation is as busy as it is. Nearly all the existing campgrounds are always full, so reducing the number seems counter intuitive.
I'm sure it has to do with not having enough funding but all the more reason we need to keep funding the NPS and USFS if we don't like having all our campsites full before we arrive.
Breathing, living, loving.. all into the unexpected⠀
Starting this self love trip with a bang.⠀
Releasing expectations for in this space we grow.⠀
Unexpected delays, closed roads, hiking in Nike’s- this is life my friends⠀
Walking into the woods with a destination in mind to land on this slice of heaven on earth.⠀
Eternal grateful for @workyourwild for this wild adventure.⠀
Slow morning conversations, yoga, good eats, & more hot springin’ today. ⠀
Work your wild today- I know I will!!
Look at those big berries! I saw them on a hike two weeks ago.
When you think about it, the earth is pretty amazing. We’re a bunch of hungry creatures, we humans, but every last thing we eat comes from the same planet we do. We’re this giant, self-sustaining, rotating ball of hungry humans, mountain berries, wheat fields, rice paddies, and hog ranches, just hurling through outer space. I likes me a fancy meal, but it’s important for me to remember that even simple berries are miracles of our galaxy.
My veggie garden has just about wound down for the year. Over the last few days I’ve turned 40lbs of tomatoes into ketchup. I grew most of the ingredients myself—tomatoes, fennel, onions, shallots, garlic, basil, coriander—and only had to buy a few other ingredients (I wish ginger grew here!). I’ll be giving lots of it away... who wants some?
With it being such a dry year a lot of the fall leaves had a more washed out and faded look but up in the mountains where there was more moisture we had some nice leaves. But the cool weather hit early knocking a lot of the leaves off the trees.
The Watchman 🌄🙌 Probably the most iconic spot in Zion, went to this bridge overlooking the Watchman for sunset one night and had to share it with a squad of 40 other photographers and their tripods. Came back for sunrise two days later and had the entire bridge to myself 🤘
One of my favorite aspects of Escalante is having both desert adventures and beautiful lush mountains all in one area. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
As you explore you’ll spot quite a few cactus down here 🌵
Those clouds kept their promise! The mountains near me have been hit with the first snow of the season.
I’m seeing a lot of photos of it, and it’s beautiful. The first storm was a heavy dusting, but you can still see the autumn colors peeking through from underneath. More snow is in the forecast. I usually cringe or curse the white stuff, but I decided to embrace it this year. There’s a lot of change that’s just out of our control. We can only control our reaction, and I choose to be happy and make the most of it. Snow, rain, sickness, loss, good fortune, good news — all out of our control, but how we accommodate them is what constitutes our character.
I won’t be out in the snow anytime soon, but it’s not an attitude thing. It got cold quick and I’ve had to hurry into the garden to harvest what’s left. I must have pulled 150lbs of tomatoes so I spent the day with homemade ketchup bubbling in the kitchen, and then prepped all of my basil to make a metric ton of marinara.
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The weekend was soul-fillingly good. But a different kind of good. Bad weather cancelled camping plans, so I had a whole weekend to myself. It was the first time in over a month that I went a day without a purposeful face-to-face with another human. “Me time” can be good. I cleaned, went for an accidentally-too-long run, gardened, and canned/jarred/preserved a lot of this fall’s vegetable harvest. I like spending time with me; I’m great company! I like all the exact same things as me, have the same hobbies and tastes, and it’s super convenient because I live so close to myself. Me and me are BFFs. (I joke, but liking yourself is a big deal, IMO). However, I also recognize that too much “me time” — too much time spent by ourselves — is probably not good. At least not for me. “Not where, not what, but who” is the distillation of that idea: it does, in fact, matter to me whom I spend time with.
Being with other humans is important. To hear them. To see their lives, their struggles, their goals, their methods; to exercise our empathy muscles. We don’t do it to draw lines of superiority, but to hear their ideas, and to bounce our own ideas back and forth, too.
Sometimes being with others is a struggle (where my introverts at!) and I think everyone should get to decide how much “people time” is right for them. But I’m sticking to my guns: being with others ultimately makes us better. When we isolate ourselves, we stop being challenged. We stop hearing different points of view and get into a dangerous echo chamber. When we’re alone too much, our words — usually in the form of self-talk in our heads — bounce and rattle and echo around in our own minds. After a while, we might start to believe those one-sided, harsh, critical, and distorted words. Or the entitled, indignant, wounded ones. Or my favorite, the overly-inflated, way too hyped ones.
Look at those trees. Each can be called an individual, but each one is connected. I’ll spare the lesson on aspen roots for another day, but for now just look at them, clumped together, leaves ablaze, going through their changes together. Many trees, one grove; they’ve got each other.