Where the earth meets the sky

"Meantime let us count our blessings - I mean those thousands of peaks, climbed and unclimbed, of every size, shape and order of difficulty, where each of us may find our own Mt. Everest" - HW Tilman

Written March 9, 2009:

I used to look up the hillside on summer trail rides, aspen tree leaves sparkling in the sunlight all around me, and I'd imagine riding to that place where the top of the hill meets the sky...I used to dream that at that place the ground turned to air and you could gracefully stride into the expansive nothingness of the atmosphere.

Every hillside, mountain top, beckoning peak, still holds the mystery of that illusion. To reach the top, where the earth meets the sky - and where you can soar beyond the ground you've always known... is that the allure of climbing mountains? To go beyond? 

The snowy, glacial peaks of the Himalayas are dramatic and stand laughing at the strength of human capacity. At the same time they beckon us forward and up - to approach, climb, and go beyond. To reach for that place where the earth meets the sky and where you are then somehow between what you once knew and what you can't even imagine. Where, in my young imagination you can step forward into the air that holds you and brings you somewhere new. 

Though these mountains are undeniably grand and, in many ways, incomprehensible, they are no different than the smaller hillsides of my youth. Riding up towards the Broadwaters through the aspen trees on well-worn and well-loved trails up, up and beyond. I can see more clearly that place where the gentle, sage-covered slope meets the sky than I can see the peaks outside the window of this tea house. Here as there. There as here... the earth meets the sky and that final step...sends you over and into the expanse of everything.

All Kinds of Beautiful

"Running all around all around... all kinds of beautiful". You never know what you are going to get or how things will end up, but I still believe that it all happens for a reason. I attended the annual ARC  gala with my mom, dad, and Teddy in late February. At the event, a young man, who was blind and autistic, played the piano absolutely beautifully - such a gift. Dan Wilson, formerly the lead singer of Semisonic, performed his song "All Kinds of Beautiful" with the entire crowd singing along. It was one of those moments that gives you the goosebumps. Time seemed to pause momentarily and I was reminded of how lucky I am. The gift of Teddy and how he has shaped my life. The gift of my parents, sister, and grandparents - people who continually amaze and impress me and who's support is endless. The gift to be able to take this time and dedicate it to myself. I used to look at 25 as an age when I should know what I'm doing and who I am going to do it with. With the support of such incredible people, I am so lucky to be 25 and feeling all of the possibilities that come out of dreaming big. All kinds of beautiful.

Shoshoni

I thought I had to go to India, but all I had to do was drive 45 minutes north of Boulder, Colorado to get a taste of the ashram experience. At Shoshoni I observed silence for 3 days, I turned off my phone and computer and retreated into myself. I meditated for an hour at 5am every morning, I did two yoga classes and one pranayama (breathwork) class each day, and went to an evening meditation or ceremony every night. After 3 days of silence I re-entered the world of talking and extended my stay for a week. My yoga and spiritual practices grew more in one week than it had in years before. A few major breakthroughs occurred that represent the changes that I experienced there. 

First, I realized that meditation is work. If you really want to meditate, if you really want to find that space within yourself, you have to have a disciplined practice. You have to work at it. Closing your eyes and breathing isn't enough. You have to constantly practice letting go of your thoughts and coming back to the present. I finally acknowledged that if I want to be serious about meditation, it's going to involve a significant amount of time and effort.

Second, I realized that I will never be able to put my beliefs into a box. At the root of all my explorations is the fact that I am a questioner. I am a questioner that yearns for answers. I am a searcher looks for a way to name my experiences, my spirituality. I want to name my feelings and my practices and put them into an intellectual or religious framework. For the first time, at Shoshoni, I both realized and started to give into the truth - some things cannot be explained. Why does the temple have both Buddhist and Hindu deities? What religion does yoga come from? What do I call this feeling? "Katie, stop trying to explain things and just live in the experience". There are deities from many religions in one space because they each bring something meaningful to the experience. Yoga comes from inside of you. This feeling? Well, it feels right and I can go along with that without defining it. I can't put my beliefs into a box because my spiritual identity is not definable - it is defined moment by moment and I have never been able to predict what the next moment will entail. 

Third, I kicked up into a handstand. Years trapped in the comfortable experience of looking at the world right-side-up. Years of practicing yoga and even training as an instructor and I remained terrified of pushing myself that tiny bit extra to defy the gravity that held me down. A new sense of self-confidence, a faith in the present, and letting go of the past and the future, I finally found stability within the fear and discomfort of being up-side-down. Taking the risk, pushing fear aside, and just going for it. The last 4 months have made up the most rewarding handstand of my life. The world is up-side-down, that is the right side up and I wouldn't have it any other way.

kspencer not in Africa

In the past whenever I have had the freedom to choose where to go I have almost always found a way to choose Africa (hence the title of my blog). When December 5th arrived and I had 8 months of freedom ahead of me with the world as my limit, Africa was, for the first time in my life, not on my immediate agenda. After a month of visiting and spending time with family and friends who I hadn't seen in awhile Halle met me in Minnesota for the long, snowy drive out to Colorado. My next step was a condensed version of the ski bum year I had always wanted. Beaver Creek, Vail, Alta, and back country skiing in British Columbia - my first next step was, without a doubt, the perfect one. I didn't and don't always have to go to far off places to travel somewhere new inside myself. 

On January 6, 2009 I wrote:

I wake up with daylight, close my eyes, and try to find that quiet place inside myself. I read a poem from "The House of Belonging" and cook in good company. I spend time washing my face - appreciating the softness and accepting my reflection. I sit, I read, and admittedly I type, but only for good conversation. I snowshoe up to ski, sip coffee, and snowshoe home. I cook again, light a fire, read, and practice headstands. When my eyes feel heavy I go to bed - one hand on my heart and the other on my naval. In my head I say "release" and I let go. Tomorrow is a new beginning and that is all that matters. 

Start Close In

After that autumn morning and some honest conversations with friends and family, I knew that leaving my job was the first step. I wasn't sure what would come after that, but I trusted that the next step would come to me after I took the first one. David Whyte's poem guided me through the difficult week or so leading up to my resignation.

Start Close In

Start close in,

don't take the second step

or the third,

start with the first

thing

close in,

the step

you don't want to take.

Start with

the ground 

you know,

the pale ground

beneath your feet,

your own

way of starting 

the conversation.

Start with your own 

question,

give up on other

people's questions, 

don't let them

smother something

simple.

To find

another's voice, 

follow

your own voice,

wait until

that voice

becomes a

private ear

listening 

to another.

Start right now

take a small step

you can call your own

don't follow

someone else's 

heroics, be humble

and focused,

start close in,

don't mistake

that other

for your own.

Start close in, 

don't take

the second step

or the third,

start with the first

thing

close in,

the step

you don't want to take.

........

It was an interesting process for me. I didn't feel like I had a say in the matter anymore. I knew the only way forward was to walk into the office and put in my notice. Part of me (the ego part of me) left my body and I it felt like someone/thing was completely in control of my movement. December 5th was going to be my last day and I was going to take a good amount of vacation time leading up to it to focus on my grad school applications. I left the office that day and haven't had a single moment of regret since. 

The moment I knew I had to make a change

It was a warm autumn day in Washington D.C. and I was sitting outside at my favorite little coffee shop around the corner, Java House. I love sitting in there on that picturesque street and watching the world quietly go by. On this one day I let my mind wander away from the GRE workbook in front of me to thoughts that have frequently tugged at my mind. For whatever reason, this time when the thoughts entered my mind I wrote them down on a crumpled sheet of paper and carried the words around with me. For whatever reason, that is when I knew that, for me, there was no longer a choice. I had to act.

This is what I wrote - D.C., October 2008:

Eventually you have to throw your expectations to the wind. Holding onto what I thought should be holds me still and unsatisfied. What I thought, is not what is. Fear of movement that might disrupt what seems like the ideal position to wait in for those expectations to manifest - is what keeps me still. 

If I could genuinely release those expectations would I not be afraid? Maybe I would be afraid, but at least I would be able to move more freely through my life.

I don't want to be a wanderer or someone who is constantly trying to escape. But I also don't want to be someone who sits and waits for old expectations to come true. 

Today in Takaungu

Today I went to Takaungu

in my mind

I sat on the roof and sketched in my journal

a picture of the other rooftops

I sat on a mat with Grace and the kids

my family

under the stars and palm trees

we discussed how strange it is 

those moving lights in the sky

we ate coconut rice

silent in the breeze

I walked the girls to school in the morning

and then I ran through the village

into the Indian ocean 

wearing all of my clothes

I floated

I walked back soaked and smiling

children laughing at how crazy I looked

I rode the canoe

in the middle 

of the night

to that deserted beach 

where you become the sky

I went to Takaungu again

the place 

where I lost everything I knew

and gained 

everything 

in return

let go and let God

“Let go and let God”. Cory’s words keep coming into my mind today. Appropriate for a Sunday in Kampala when the city center empties and people fill the churches and other places of worship. How perfect to have been able to practice my own “religion” this morning. Numerous friends referred me to Kevin and Gavin, who have a beautiful home on the outskirts of the city. More modest than the average mzungu home – their “dining room” is a low table with cushions to sit on and the “living room” has been converted into a yoga space complete with an altar and candles. We practiced facing outside through the open sliding doors. Bohemian décor – their home immediately puts you at ease. I have to admit that I was not expecting the quality of class that I got. Kevin guided us in a vinyasa flow class that was one of the better classes I have ever taken. The fresh Ugandan breeze on my skin and the sounds of everyday life in the distance – dogs barking, trucks passing, children playing – the whole nine-yards. I set my intention: Energy for the work ahead.

But the intention that kept popping into my mind was to let go and let God. To gather with a group of strangers in a different country and pay respect to the divine – in the world and in ourselves – is, to me, the purest form of religion. Yet another reminder of why I have grown to love yoga. Yoga transcends boundaries that, dare I say, many religions create or at the least, perpetuate.

A nice Swedish lady drove me back into town and we talked about how useless it feels to plan out what we want to do next because life never happens as planned…She dropped me off at the National Theater Market where I have put my extra per diem to very good use. And now I am at Café Pap – the good old familiar place where I used to escape the emotional roller coaster of work last year to get a cup of coffee.

Walking the streets of Kampala on a Sunday has a calming effect. Maybe it’s the residual impact of a great yoga practice this morning, Or maybe it is the feeling of being comfortable in this city far away from home where I have come for my third time relatively by chance. God knows if I had had my way I would have led trips for GYPA to Takaungu, Kenya and if I had the choice of anywhere to go recruit people I would probably have requested to go somewhere new. But somehow my path has led me here and keeps bringing me back and each time I feel more and more at home and grateful to have returned to do something different. However it has happened…letting go and letting God…I feel I’m exactly where I should be.

back to Uganda

After a 7 hour drive, a 4:30am wake up and a long day of plane rides, I arrived at the office suitcase in hand both physically and mentally exhausted. When I checked emails from the airport during a layover I saw that there was some talk of my going to Uganda to do some work for a proposal. However, there had been talk of my going to Uganda multiple different times during the year and it had always fallen through so I did not take it very seriously. An hour after arriving in the office I was working with the travel desk to buy a ticket. Can you go tomorrow? Yeah right! I can go on Wednesday… so a day and a half later I was on the plane to Uganda. Except this time, my third time, I was in business class and had a driver waiting for me at the airport.

The shock of the speed of my transition from home to DC to on a plane to Uganda did not hit me until I got into the car, rolled the windows down, and breathed in the smell of Uganda. Suddenly I found myself driving along Lake Victoria, passing by the exact location that I have gone to many times in my mind over this past year. I am back.

I am here to recruit local staff for a USAID proposal. I had a sense of what the assignment would require when I boarded the plane, I spent the entire flight learning more (note, the old man across the aisle introduced himself at the end of one flight and gave me his card saying that if I needed psychiatric help that he works in DC - so I must have looked stressed out)… and now, after two days of meetings that seemed to just fall into place and two interviews that were not nearly as uncomfortable/intimidating as I thought they would be, I have almost wrapped my head around the tasks at hand and feel relatively confident that I can do it

What is harder to wrap my head around is the hotel I am staying in. I used to walk by the Serena hotel and gawk, both in awe of its grandiosity, but also at the absurdity of it. How could one stay in such a nice hotel in such a poor country? Why would you want to?

“You do not have to live like an ascetic to do good development work” are the words that keep coming into my mind. “It is more about your how you handle yourself”, a good friend told me when I was grappling with the moral issue I have always had with traveling in this fashion. I think I am almost able to let go of the guilt associated with staying here (I have a raindrop therapy showerhead), but I don’t know if I’ll ever get there. I don’t think I want to get there. However, I agree that the most important thing is to never let it get to your head. How you handle this privilege in your mind is what determines how you behave and I, for one, never want to act like I am entitled to this luxury and, in a sense, status.

I have no conclusions.

What I do know is that I camped out in the lobby for two hours today waiting to see President Museveni walk in to a wedding reception being held in the hotel gardens. I sat there waiting for him to walk through the front doors for TWO HOURS! I was wondering why no one else seemed to have this idea…
….of course the president of Uganda would not use the main entrance. So no, after all of that, I did not see him, but I can see the group of people that he is among.

After I gave up on the President I wandered out of the oasis that is my hotel grounds and found myself a boda boda. First ride of the trip – as exhilarating as ever. How good it feels to hop onto a rusty motorcycle with a stranger and no helmet. Weaving in and out of traffic as though we are invincible with the smog filling my nose and dirtying my freshly washed hair and white t-shirt. Ah yes, the Uganda I know and love waiting for me beyond the gates of the hotel.

I am now going to bed feeling a combination of safety and fear with what seems like half of the Ugandan military wandering around outside…

how I want to know that sun

"...we are the one terrible part of creation privileged to refuse our flowering. I know in the text of the heart the flower is our death and the first opening of the new life we have yet to imagine...How I want to know that sun, and how I want to flower and how I want to claim my happiness and how I want to walk through life amazed and inarticulate with thanks". David Whyte's words have counseled me for years and somehow the page I open to at random always carries with it both the weight and lightness of truth.

The speed at which so many, including myself, rush through each day – each task, each commute, each exchange – is, in its own way, a refusal. A refusal to take the time to be amazed and inarticulate with thanks – to actually see what exists around us and the potential flowering inside of us. Slowing down to notice. Letting happiness flower by walking through life gratefully and conscientiously. Accepting this happiness.

In “The Pilgrimage” Paul Coelho writes about the “speed exercise” that his guide taught him on his pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela. It is as simple as this: “Walk for twenty minutes at half the speed at which you normally walk. Pay attention to the details, people, and surroundings”. Coehlo’s guide explains to him that “when you are moving toward an objective it is very important to pay attention to the road. It is the road that teaches us the best way to get there, and the road enriches us as we walk its length”.

Flying across the Atlantic has always served as a forced, but welcomed, pause. Moving toward an objective, but with inevitable time to let your mind and body slow down and rise above the usual routine of your life. Small thoughts suddenly seem much more profound and you become more involved in the present journey simply trusting that you are going to arrive at your destination. In a few hours you will reach your objective and so you give yourself permission to let your mind drift away – but to a place that is actually much closer to your inner truths. To reach a state of what Greek philosophers termed eudaimonia, or ‘human flourishing’, which Alain de Botton believes that we better understand through travel. He writes that “if our lives are dominated by a search for happiness, then perhaps few activities reveal as much about the dynamics of this quest – in all its ardour and paradoxes – than our travels. They express, how ever inarticulately, an understanding of what life might be about, outside of the constraints of work and of the struggle for survival”. Travel, inherently involving destinations is more about the journey – the quest – and, therefore, seems to bring us more fully into the present moment.

To pay attention to the world around us – to the journey, the moment – I feel, as Coehlo realizes on his pilgrimage, is one of the keys to happiness. To walk through life at half the speed at which you normally walk isn’t easy, but perhaps it can bring the eudaimonia, the sensation of flying over the Atlantic, the conscientiousness of travel into our daily lives. And so a goal: to try and treat every moment, or at least more moments with a faith that I will get to my destination so that I can let my mind lift up to a higher realm of thought and gratitude for the simplicity of each moment of the pleasure of the journey. Acceptance of my joy...How I want to see that sun.