New Growth

Five months ago I left the "Land of the Sky" to live in "Big Sky Country". The vision of oak-shaded mountains was replaced with snow-saturated peaks. Civil War stories were abruptly hushed by Native American legends. Sunrises became sunsets. People have come, people have gone, and I have been.

In a matter of days I will use this much sought after sky to return to Asheville, resuming work at Navitat. Our old Weaverville home is no longer ours - as Jackson, Joel and Garrison have moved away as well. However, my new manager Chad moved in after we left, so it's still in the family. I'll be looking for a new home upon my return, and hopefully it will be a quick find as things are already picking up at Navitat. I'm excited for this new endeavor; both my own and for the guys in California building our second course. Things seem to be working out as we had hoped - spreading out to different areas, seeing our friends' lives grow, and infecting the world with habit-forming zip lines.

I have a lot of hope for the future.

Turn of the Quarter-Century

Backs arched over the joint of the roof, exposing midsections to the warmth of the mid-morning sun. A gentle breeze swirled together subtle music and smoke, carrying the solution down to the fallen hickory and maple leaves in the garden. To my left sat five friends: three old, two new; but all pieces of the same, ever-growing circle of one of the most magnificent groups of people I have been describing since April of 2009. The one place we had not thought of incorporating into our list of "things we should do" was the same place we ended up - sound familiar?

These people have a gift - the ability to make you fall in love with their presence. I've never felt more welcomed into this home than when I returned home from work to have six people, almost lonely-puppy esque, waiting behind the door in excitement. Maybe it was really the fact that we needed two vehicles to go do anything, but I'm going to believe that they really wanted to see us. That moment has come and gone, locked up in the vault with the rest of the memories I long to go back to when times aren't so great. A time when I could fully live in each day, leaving tomorrow - as a man once said, to worry about itself.

Right here in this very bakery, a woman once told me of her belief in the attraction of human energy. The idea that people can emit an energy so powerful that it draws them together. Let's face it, she's right. We all have particular people we would much rather spend time with, and so we plan a path that at some point leads us to them; so sometimes I think it's necessary to worry about tomorrow. One can only live their lives through nostalgia for so long before they make the decision to create a new memory. For the time being, October has become my new reminiscent thought, and I don't see why it's a mistake to look forward to the next reunion of friends. Until that time, I wish all of you safe travels, and the best of luck in your endeavors.

Lights and Sounds.

Think about the times you've sat around a fire with a group of friends and family. There comes a time while everyone is gathered around the flames that we are captivated by our thoughts. We can re-live our past or plan our future in a matter of moments, and we begin to redefine our lives. For me, it's always my time to say "From now on..." and I convince myself that I'm fully capable of being genuine again, and that finally - for the last time, my life will go in the direction it was meant to. Last week, however, may have been the first time I didn't think about those things. Not because I feel I'm where I should be, but because I was more interested in what was going through everyone else's minds.

Joel's dad was visiting us, and we invited Dylan, Evan, Abby and Cori over for some of Bill's famous BBQ. With such a plethora of musical talent, it was only a matter of minutes before the instruments were broken out. It's times like that when I don't have a problem feeling inferior on the guitar. As we sat around the fire pit and listened, I looked at the faces of everyone around me. Ya know those times when you catch someone just staring at the same spot for an unusually long period of time? That time when you can speak an entire paragraph directly into their ear, and it's a matter of seconds before they snap out of it and realize they're not by themselves? It was as if the music and fire display were a charmer and we were all mesmerized snakes. With full stomachs and good music, the focused faces were occasionally interrupted by laughing directed towards the dogs wrestling in the yard, and unexpected sparks popping out of the fire. We wrapped up the night with some hugs and "see yuens" and it was once again back down to four plus Bill.

This night was much needed for me. I was able to put myself aside and realize that some people have so much more on their plate than I do, and how these guys are able to keep their sanity is beside me. It's a blessing to work where I do and, for two years in a row, have people who actually care about us as our employers. Don't worry Juneau, I haven't forgotten about you either.

Black Lights.

Why did you change, O Sun, the way you woke the world?

The joys of your rays are now a fairy tale.

Once upon a time, covers were thrown off at the sight of your presence,

instead of being pulled over heads in anger.

The glisten of morning dew was a symbol of refreshment,

rather than a mirror reflecting yesterday onto today.

Once upon a time, your light gave us ambition to live,

to take advantage of the short time we spend with you.

We now look forward to our days' end when you disappear,

when the artificial lights beam through our selfish features.

Our transparency is blinding with your absence,

and it's not until you grieve us with your shining face that we see through ourselves.

Why did we change, O World, the way we loved the sun?

Handwriting.

“It has become appallingly obvious that our technology has exceeded our humanity.” -- Albert Einstein

Isn't it funny how, as elementary students, we had such an emphasis on being able to write legibly - when the capital letters touched the top line, and the lower-case couldn't go above the middle? We wrote in cursive, and we wrote entire stories like that. Today, the only cursive I can write is my signature, and I always leave the 'e' out of Bradley. Bradly. Thank God for Word. But then again, I guess at one point even the pencil was considered technology. I was going somewhere with this but had to leave it for another day, so I'll just turn it into a rant.

Things are going well in North Carolina. Navitat is gaining popularity by the day and we have been working much more often. Yesterday, I got to spend a few hours answering phones and making reservations and what not, and other days I get to sit on the platforms for hours on end taking pictures of guests - each of these tasks interrupts the monotonous task of guiding and gives me more appreciation for it. Some things never change, though. The other day I had a 10 year old girl freeze on the fourth platform of the course. Throughout a span of about 20 minutes I tried to convince her to move on to the next platform, where she could easily be lowered down. The tone in my voice went from calming and encouraging to teeth-clinched seriousness - to the point I attached myself to her, held her hands on her trolley, and kicked her legs out from underneath her. It wasn't her fault, she just got scared; and I did my job.

A number of times throughout the last week I've had my eyes well-up with tears. The U.S. tied England in our World Cup opener. Number 14 ranked U.S. vs. Number 8 ranked England turned out to be a game and a half if you watched it. The moment we watched that ball dribble out of the hands of the keeper and past the goal line shouts erupted and high fives were had by all. The next game, after a long, long 80 or so minutes, Michael Bradley scored the game tying goal against Slovenia - after being down 2-0 for a good portion of the game. Despite an unfortunate call at the last minute, we continued on in typical fashion. Our last game of pool play against Algeria was the greatest game in U.S. soccer history to this day; quote me on that. If it weren't for injury time, we would have tied the game 0-0 and it would have felt like 2006 all over again. I screamed so hard after our goal that my jaw literally popped out of place and I couldn't shut my mouth. Landon Donovan could be one of the most humble players I've seen in a long time. Seeing the relief (and unbelief) in his face during his post-game interview was enough to make me sit down and take a deep breath to hold back my own tears with no one watching. So three times, because of soccer, I've teared up in the last week.

I also was lucky enough to go see a Mason Jennings concert at the Orange Peel in Asheville. It's one of the top five venues in the country. I hadn't heard much of him, but I went along anyways knowing that if my managers and Jackson were going to see him, he had to be good. He played a song called "The Field" from a parent's perspective of their child in the war. After the show I told Jackson that the song was absolutely the best war-themed song since the 70's (not that I actually know that). I wasn't the only one tearing up. So many people have been affected by these conflicts in the last, what? Nine years? that it's almost impossible to not have some feedback about it.

"If I was the President, if I was that man - I would walk out with those kids, I would cross the sand. If I was the President if I was that brave - I would take a shovel there, dig each child their grave. If I was the President if my world turned black - I would want no victory, I'd just want you back."

Four times I've teared up in the last week.

Jacket Weather.

"I know no matter how bad things get, things could always be worse, and no matter how great they can go, they can always be better. That keeps you grounded." -- Clint Dempsey

The 2010 World Cup begins in four days. I have been counting down the days until June 11 for nearly six months, and in four days, my facebook friends will be free of my obsession. Soccer has been a part of my life since age five, and now at 24 has always taken up a large portion of my life. A voice rings in my head every now and then telling me,

"You could still do it."

For a brief moment I believe it, because I know that in that moment it's true. I could turn my back on everything I know and commit to it. Multiple times I've put on a face that catches people off guard. I've come out from behind the words of my glory-days and actually shown that it's not a mask I'm wearing, but instead a sheet that I'm comfortable being under, but gets easily thrown off with the right inspiration. I love to be inspired. In that same moment lie dreams of stepping foot on perfect pitches, traveling to places that only exist on maps, pictures, or in others' words, and playing next to Dempseys, Donovans, Holdens, Bradleys. The moment passes when I see how much competition I have with the team I'm working to earn a spot on, and I once again take my seat as a scarf wearing spectator - in full support of what I love, but from a distance where I can't be overcome by the incredible urge to participate; and fail.

I've known God five years longer than soccer. He, too, has shaped my life in a way that many cannot understand. That relationship has stages similar to those I've described with soccer. Each day I get that voice in my head, letting me know that I could turn my back on everything I know and resemble the Davids, Pauls, Peters, Johns. But then I see my competition. It's not so much the "what-not-to-do's", but those who are more committed to it than I am. I see them as impossible to overcome - no matter the circumstance, they can't be shaken. It's at this moment that I take my seat as someone who can believe God from a safe distance, watching and supporting those who do the same, but lacking the fight myself to participate and be beaten by these opponents who should actually be my teammates.

Each of these is a war within, I suppose, and I imagine they will be going on for quite sometime. Four years from Friday I could be singing a different tune altogether. It's a day by day thing and I will continuously be searching for the time I finally follow through, but until then, go USA.

Suits.

Turn alarm off. 7:05 a.m., off. 7:10 a.m., off. Meeting at 8:00 a.m. Slow down to see Di-cow-mbe Mutumbo on the farm off Poverty Branch Road. Slow day, maybe four tours total. Bank. Hardware Store. Lawnmower, gas can... ping pong balls? Lawn mowed, neighbors happy. FIFA 2010. Downtown Asheville. Trampled by Turtles at the Grey Eagle. Mesmerized. Taylor's brother at Mo Daddy's. Talk about Navitat. Squirt gun. Taco Bell. Ant Hill. Bed.