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.

Summer in the City.

Just a glance at the savory treats glassed in underneath the counter is enough to fill your belly. The bakers, or whatever the politically correct term for "one of those" these days, walk as if they're bandana-wearing pack mules on a narrow path to and from the back room, wielding cakes and cookies and tiramisu. I ordered tea today, breaking away from my usual day-off coffee. As I handed the man my debit card, he muttered a phrase that never fails to turn heads, "Only in Weaverville." Unaware of my immediate facial expression, another girl behind the counter began to laugh at the contorted snarl of my brow.

"Only in Weaverville," I thought to myself as I looked upon a man in the corner. Hairy, canine hands grasped the local newspaper and a werewolf face hid behind it. I wonder what he was reading? I don't think I've earned the right to say "Only in Weaverville," but I still thought it.

This place, college town turned retirement village, is a curious one. Each time we walk through a doorway the locals get more brave, asking us questions about why were here.

After being greeted with an excited wave and smile, I leaned over to Jackson while sitting at our new favorite spot and said, "We're the bees knees here."

This town isn't a big fan of change, and I see why. It may be sheer cockiness, or it may be the truth - but I feel like these new guys living on south College are a breath of fresh air to some Weavervillians. Soon enough, our faces will lose their freshness, and we'll be having "the usual." Let's soak it up boys.

Mercury.

According to general rules of physics, we don't have a choice in where we are headed. Gravity manipulates everyone and everything into heading towards it - but what happens when we get there? We stop. What is the point of gravity's selfish ambition other than to keep piling all of us, one on top of the other, just so we can sit there like a landfill? Like the tower of Babel without a purpose. At least the Babylonians had a goal. Some of us are driven by rebellion. Imagine a situation in which a car drives off of a cliff. While in a free fall, gravity begins to taste defeat. At the point of impact, the Cinderella we named Inertia clashes against it's older step-sister like Mario vs. Bowser. But in an instant, the vehicle comes to a complete standstill and all is at rest. For only a few moments, the contents of the vehicle stayed in motion, and deprived gravity of a flawless victory; it still wins, but it wasn't an easy one. Game Over. Continue?

Thats the beauty of it, it's beautiful - we reckon with the force. At any given point, hundreds of times a day, we see the ruler has overstepped her bounds and say, "Enough is enough." I don't really know where I'm going with this, it's just something that occupied my mind while ingesting two cups of coffee and a slice of quiche. I don't know, maybe it's nice to know that there are battles we'll never win, but we'll never stop fighting because, well, what else is there to do?

About Time.

Despair is the damp of hell, as joy is the serenity of heaven. -- John Donne

Two days from now, we will have been in North Carolina for a month. In our first month here, we've done a number of things some people will never do - and for that I feel blessed. We've climbed rocks and ascended ropes 80 feet up 100+ year old trees. We've been trusted by our managers to keep an eye on the new guides throughout their first zipline tours. We've met people around Asheville to the point they recognize us when we bump into them a week later. We've shopped at stores that sell expired foods. Most importantly, we've managed to lead happy lives that are not centered around money. Of course, when we received our first tips of the season this weekend, we were excited; but it was a genuine excitement for what we had been waiting for - income. It's a good thing to know that that we can look after each other for a significant period of time, not keeping tabs on who owes who what. Sure, it will be nice when we all have beds and our house finally begins to look like a real home, but this little bit of "hardship" hasn't really been all that bad. It makes us grateful to have jobs, and hopeful that our hard work has shown to those who expect it of us. Everything is fine, and its only a matter of time until we have the choice to become the over-consuming people we once were, or to continue shopping at the discount stores. Personally, I hope for the latter.

It's Just One of Those Days.

It's funny how big a part the wind plays in our lives. It can cool you down on a hot North Carolina afternoon, or slam the door in your face when you thought your day couldn't get any worse.

I wouldn't start today off any other way. We woke up within about five minutes of one another, and wandered across our creaky, 1950's style wooden floor into the living room. The same question rang through our minds: "Where's Jackson?" But, immediately, we all knew the answer - so we put our laptops in our bags and headed to the coffee shop. By now, you may be wondering why I'm talking as though though it's not just Joel and me. That's because Garrison, Jackson's little brother is here now. That's right, Smooth himself has graced us with his presence. And then there were four. You could sense his unsureness last night when we picked him up from the airport, but once he got into Frankenstein he was as comfortable as he had ever been; except his clothes didn't make it with him. It's good to have him back.

Yesterday felt like work. I was ground support all day, while the second training group ran their first of many, many tours to come. We lost four from this group of 10; not actually "lost" them, but they just couldn't handle it. You wouldn't think it would be that hard, with people telling you every day that you have the coolest job. However, it can actually be a very stressful job. Think about it, on a good day you are in charge of making sure that people safely make it across an 1,100 foot zipline, flying 40 mph 200 feet above the ground, that's all. On a bad day, add a medical emergency where you have to set up a sturdy anchor in a matter of minutes and make sure that the injured person hardly moves as they are being lowered to the ground on rope as thick as your finger, all while managing the other seven guests... in the rain. I've never had to do the latter, so I guess I can say that I've yet to have a bad day, and I hope it stays that way. Our managers could possibly be two of the best people in the world. They have shown me unimaginable kindness, and above all, friendship. Dylan and Evan knew nothing about me before I came here, and all I knew of them was an intimidating aura of two guys who run the best zipline in North America. Now I see that they are kids, barely older than me, who like to hang out in the trees. They're not so bad.

We're all a long way from home. We miss our families and western friends. The sun is treating us well, and I want you all to know that, although we could literally claim welfare checks right now, we're doing fine. This communal sense of life is one I've never known before. Everything is everyone's, and we'll make sure to be there for anyone who needs us.

The Pursuit of Happiness.

However you look at it, we are all in search of one thing. A thing that seems to always be just at our fingertips if we can just get one step higher. A word that rarely leaves our mouths. A need that everyone has and will work longer, push further, and pray harder - even if they don't believe in a God - to satisfy it. It is a dream everyone has, never realizing they've all achieved it time and again. We rarely succeed in our pursuit of happiness because we wait for others to tell us that we've found it.

Joel and I share a queen size mattress right now. Jackson has a therma-rest that he has moved into the living room where the shag-carpet adds a little more padding. We have a sweet house in Weaverville - just north of Asheville, and just south of the site. Our yard needs mowed, but we don't have a lawn mower yet. We have a patio that we've already taken full advantage of, lying in sun, in the fold up chairs our landlords left in the shed. We have a broken recliner sitting in front of the fireplace that we got for free because of Craigslist. I can honestly say there is not an ounce of complaint put into that description. It's hilarious. It's also good to know that we don't need much to survive.

We finished training with the first group of guides last week. The Navitat course is just plain amazing, and it's not even finished. It will be done by May 15, which is the official opening day. So much imagination and care has been put into this course that it's impossible to find anything wrong with it. It's also comforting to know that the best zip line company in the U.S. (based in Grand Junction, who knew?) is behind all of it. This week, we have alternated helping Evan out to train the second group of guides. Joel is at work now, while Jackson and I have been sitting at the coffee shop downtown since about 11:30. It's now 2:30. Yesterday reminded me exactly of working in Juneau last summer - opening carabiners in the freezing, pouring rain. This time, however, I was on the other side of things, flying into the platform at 40 miles per hour teaching the new guides how to stop an out of control guest and praying that they understood how to do it. They did. This season is going to be exciting, and Garrison will be here Saturday which makes things even more exciting.

I don't know how we got here, and often times I wake up and literally ask myself, "Where am I?" I will continue to chase happiness across the world if I have to, but for now, It's gonna be a great summer, fall, winter, and spring in Asheville, NC.

Y'all Aren't from Around Here, Are You?

"If you are arriving on Southwest flight (some number) from Portland, your baggage can be picked up at carousel seven."

The person speaking those words at the Denver airport couldn't possibly imagine the significance that sentence carried for me. Upon hearing it, thoughts rang through my mind, and as quickly as they entered, were pushed out by new ones. We were doing it again. None of us had ever been to that part of the country. Can Frankenstein, with 201,000 miles on it, survive a five day road trip across the United States of America? Why is that guy wearing Joel's sweatshirt? I hope Joel is also wearing that sweatshirt. Speaking of shirts, why is Jackson's shirt still on? We don't even know where we're going to live. Stuff like that.

I drove from Grand Junction to Denver that Wednesday afternoon to pick the guys up. That night, we stayed at Drew's house, and we hung out with Anthony and Jason as well - all old friends from Craig. The next morning, around 6:00 am, we were on I-70 out of Colorado and into Kansas. We all hate Kansas. Our 16 hour drive led us to the Buffalo River around Ponca, Arkansas, where we met up with Kyle and Ashley and their dog Millie. For Kyle and me it was a long overdue reunion, and hopefully it won't be another two years before I see him again. We camped for two nights surviving the irritating ticks, the irritable motor home "camping" neighbor, and bathing in the less-than-favorable temperature of the river. On Saturday we got back on the road, taking the scenic route out of Arkansas and into Tennessee, where we made it nearly to Knoxville, and camped in a nearby national park. None of us had seen a camping spot like this before. These southerners really love their motor homes. At the campsite next to ours, however, we had a chance to finally meet some new people - two college-aged girls who needed a hatchet to chop up some firewood. Enter Jackson. Bingo. This was our first chance to dissect the minds of southern women, and by-golly, we took it. Needless to say, we spent most of the evening talking to them. Sunday morning showed it's beautiful face, and with only four hours to go, we headed to Asheville. Arriving into the city was frantic. We didn't know where we were going, nor did we actually have an actual destination other than just Asheville. Eventually, we made our way downtown, doing the typical tourist thing until we met with Evan and Dylan, two of our bosses, and their wives who took us out to dinner. At the end of the night, we had no idea where we were, who we were surrounded by, when our job at the new zipline started, or what was for breakfast the next day; but one thing we did know: Frankenstein made it to Asheville.