Avalanche of Fear

AvalancheoffearI have a history of allowing fear to dictate my life.

I’ve passed up opportunities, relationships, opinions, and happiness because I’ve been afraid.

Afraid to venture outside of my comfort zone.

Afraid of failure.

But mostly, afraid of the unknown.

I think about my fears often. They cycle through my mind like a cyclone of negativity, ready to dash through my hopes and dreams whenever the situation presents itself.

This is how my mind was racing with fear when I began my climb up Half Dome, the iconic image of Yosemite National Park in California. Continue reading

Changing Winds: A Poem

Changing Winds

The wind is blowing

Through my lungs,

Casting my hair into my eyes.

I breathe in the changing winds;

Breathing in the changing times. Continue reading

The Summit, the Climb, or the Release?

Summit, Climb, or Release?We stood in the lobby of the mountaineering club watching the burly adventurers stride through with their crampons and trekking poles.

“White-out conditions and 70 mph winds before you reach the John Muir Base Camp at 10,000 ft,” we overheard from the guide behind the desk. “We don’t recommend going up the mountain unless you have experience in these conditions. Stick to the trail because 200 ft to the left is a drop off.”

I look down at my rain pants and hiking boots. What are we getting ourselves into!? Continue reading

Three Ways Mountains Inspire

3 Ways Mountains InspireThey say the Appalachian Mountains are the oldest in the world. They say they were once larger than the Alps and the Rockies. They say they hold the wisdom of ages. That all you have to do is listen.

I sat, and I listened, and I understood. Continue reading

The First Step

The First StepI had a little black car then.

It sat baking in the early summer heat as I said my final farewells.

Goodbye to my family.

Goodbye to the little town I never really fit in with.

Goodbye to the memories both sweet and saddening.

I put both hands on the steering wheel of that little black car, knuckles white. It was my saving grace. It was my chariot of freedom. I put my foot on the gas pedal. And as I drove away, Continue reading

Breaking The Jars: Intention behind my blog.

Imagine this with me.

Sixteen years of age, long brown hair, big brown eyes. Innocence stolen. Her eyes reveal pain. They reveal helplessness. She wants to give up.

She’s seated on the front stoop of a beautiful old farmhouse surrounded by the Amish heartland in all directions. Mason jar in hand, eyes glazed, she watches as dusk falls over the corn fields. She sees the sky fade from blue, to yellow and pink with little conviction. She feels numb. Continue reading