Re-purpose

I'm not surprised that I haven't blogged in roughly a month.
I have been busy.

Busy with wonderful, celebratory happenings such as birthdays, BBQ's, and dinners with the "Family".
So why haven't I written?

Because none of these events, though fabulous, had the ability to ground me.

It wasn't until I let my feet hit the soil this past Saturday that I felt my mind revert to a state of imagination, creativity and excitement. Alongside my dear friend, Adrienne, I felt her connection as our auras simultaneously aligned, preparing us for the day ahead.

With no concept or concern of distance, we hiked the switch-back trail catching up like old friends do. We stopped to take photos, and I got my dose of biology as she educated me on the families and origins of the plants that we passed. A true plant physiologist that woman is. (Ad--I found myself thinking about Bracken, Maidenhair, and Lady Ferns while eating my breakfast this morning. What have you done to me?). As you can also see in the photo, I got a lesson in which plants were edible. Though delicious, I remained skeptical, fearing that I would accidentally eat the wrong type and wind up dead.

With no true agenda for the day, we allowed ourselves to escape and cling to nature; I felt as my mind and soul dropped it's guard and welcomed the reunion; asking for acceptance and unity. Being typical 24 year-olds, Adrienne and I continuously find ourselves trying to navigate the world of love, meanwhile fighting to make a name for ourselves in order to keep our independence as women, professionals, and mentors. We talked about the tender love of a long-term partner and the excitement of a new crush, the turmoil and the elation that goes with dating, and the pain and the forgiveness of relationships; all while shamelessly thanking and praising our outlets: hiking, yoga, climbing, and writing, as our saving graces for our daily sanity.

Working our way past Fairy Falls towards the Devils Rest Summit, we found ourselves alongside a creek with a powerful current just gentle enough to invite us to play on her slippery rocks, logs, and mud. I felt my chest relax as I approached the water, ears stimulated over the rush, my eyes locked on to the waters path. Dancing with the elevation, flirting with large rocks and fallen trees, she made her deceleration to the forest that this was her course, but all are welcome. You couldn't stop this dance, she was full of direction, ready to adapt to protect her needs.


Adrienne and I found ourselves continuously in awe of instances such as these that displayed nature's ability to adapt and re-purpose itself within its environment. As easily as the fallen trees became a part of the creeks "tango", dozens of trees warped their strong foundation, altering the direction of growth in order to maximize sunlight. This environment is a continuum of adaptation. That very adaptation is what made them beautiful to me. On the trail we passed many perfectly erect trees, solid in their roots, beaming from the sun's rays--but my heart was with those who were twisting and leaning, and those that had fallen.

In attempt to figure out why I was so enamored with those unique trees, I began to parallel my own experiences to the trees.  As I fight towards my personal path of enlightenment, I pride myself on leading a life that continually challenges me. Just as those trees fought for extra sunlight, I fight to make myself stronger. I adapt to the changes at work, the dynamics of growing friendships, potential love interests, etc.

It was then that I realized that when Adrienne and I discussed our desire to love, truly love, I discovered why I was drawn to the logs in the creek as well as the trees that fought for their fuel source: It was because I see myself in those trees. Constantly adapting. Constantly working towards betterment. More so, I see my future partners in those trees. I love the unique qualities and the visible drive to obtain their enlightenment. I see the beauty of growth.

I haven't written, because I haven't been grounded.
I haven't been grounded because I haven't taken the time to listen to my surroundings.

Life reminds us that adaptation is necessary, nature reminds us that adaptation makes you beautiful.