Element

 

Sitting in my Subaru, sunroof open with a brisk 30 degree temperature washing in from outside--body bundled up in a ski coat and a scarf. Despite my hiking boots and wool socks, my toes felt tender and cold.

In front of me is a rock barricade serving as a reminder to visitors that beyond its wall the earth drops 100 feet into a canyon, home of Lake Billy Chinook. The lake sits protected in between the steep canyon walls and measures about 300 feet at her deepest point. This lake is my element. It is here that I learned how to slalom ski, spend countless summer days on our boat with family and friends, and drive her often enough to know her every bend and turn. I've never felt a more present calm excitement with anything else than I have with this lake.

Right now the lake is collecting the surrounding run-off snow, growing colder and colder as it waits for the Spring season. In May when we de-winterize the boat it is always hard to jump back into her waters, but she knows we can't resist. Throughout the years we've learned how cold her bite can be as your body submerges and she wraps her wicked cold arms around you. As a skier, you can't straighten your ropes and get your ski on fast enough! But by late August, her waters welcome you like a warm drawn bath.

Being that it is December, it clearly is too cold to play in her right now (hell, it's damn near too cold to play around her), so I witness her beauty from afar on a rest area bluff near our home. Directly in front of me is Mt. Jefferson; Prominent and tall against the blue skies. A small ring of clouds surrounds the base of the mountain, I've decided that it looks like a small white tulle tu-tu. As I study the mountain and it's cloud tu-tu, I feel the sun warm the left side of my face, channeling it's rays in from the southwest. I've come here to write, and to allow myself to just get lost mentally.

Thanks to the snow covered ground though, I can't seem to stay concentrated enough to write for more than 30 minutes without jumping out of my heated car to go play in the snow. I am the only one around for at least a mile, maybe more. I dance around and write words in the snow, snapping photos left and right, knowing in my heart that my photos will never capture the essence and the joy that I am feeling. I also feel my cold toes though, hibernating in my wool socks. I am usually one to ride my boundaries and push through the cold, but I know that I have to cram these toes into ski boots come Sunday, so I need to listen to them when they say "Yo--I am cold--Stop prancing around and warm me up."

I texted Adrienne a picture of me alongside the lake and with just the text: "me and my lake"
Her response: "You look beautiful in your element."

I feel it that connection when I am out in my desert world, whether it be absorbed by sun or snow. I feel grounded within my element.

My phone vibrates as Adrienne sends me a photo of her dancing in a yogi-esque pose against the red rocks of Moab. I suddenly feel that she understands the exact elation that I feel now. Two Willamette Valley nerds who can't seem to escape the allure of the desert. There is definitely something about that desert sunshine despite the outside temperature.

The desert has a way of calling people home to their inner Self and spirit.

Back from hiatus

Getting back into writing is a funny thing. I guess I didn't know how to pick back up after so many months. Where do you even start? How do you even start?

"Once upon a time..." no.
"Hello friends!" no.
"Joining us live from Oregon, here's Melissa!" no.

Let's not pretend that I didn't have things to write about or talk about during my unexplainable blogging hiatus--we all know that my mind runs a million miles an hour constantly. My pens still fill the thin lines of my various journals. My pencils still attack the white spaces of any current book I'm reading as I relate and debate the material that the authors present to me.

I don't enjoy playing catch up. I enjoy telling the now and discussing the moment. Whether it may be current climbing endeavors, stories and realizations from the trails, or even just thoughts from my bed on those sleepless nights. As of late, I continue to piece my self worth and confidence back together as I work through the constant battle of unhealthy eating habits, feeling myself becoming stronger as the seasons roll along. My calendar continues to fill with various trips and outings. My love life has flourished; now blessed by a man who sets me free, all the while holding me close as we talk about both the now and the future.

The holidays are upon us, and I've got a 2 week date with the desert. One of which will be blanketed in the Oregon snow, and the other seared by the Arizona sun. Lord knows the desert brings out the best in me.

I look forward to getting back into the groove.

Ignition

As I covered my hands with the airy dust of climbing chalk, I could feel my body and mind ignite; My white small hands placed strategically on the warm desert rock. 

Why did I have to stop doing this? Was it really so bad?

I felt powerful and full of lust when I hit the wall, like returning to a forbidden lover. 

I climb and I twist, moving through the route, following the routine.

My muscles awake and my skin shreds across my fingertips and palms as if resurrecting callouses. 

My body surges heat and my mind silences. 

My whole summer was dedicated to balance, but what I lacked was participating in a sport that gave me the strongest sense of balance. My mind and energy drifted and before my eyes, and the season is changing now; fall is patiently waiting.

Nature and Body: A Beautiful Relationship

I promise that I won't let Monday's post take over my blog, but I did want to share this; Passed along from my mother.

As a community we can do more to instill love through pure beauty.

"It is up to you to nurture your particular branch of the Tree of Life and keep it healthy. If you would save the planet, begin by honoring and loving yourself. Please stop feeding your ancient shame. Please stop telling yourself you are ugly. Please stop analyzing your physical imperfections. Your body is exactly as nature intended it to be. You are perfect and beautiful. You are worthy of all the love in the world, and your story matters."

From: Aphrodite's Daughters

Your story, my story, his story, her cousin's friend's great-uncle's fish's story, matters.

I promised a follow-up

So here we are: three weeks along in acupuncture. A mess of needles, Chinese suction globes, and hickey-esque bruises scattered throughout my stomach and back.
I don't understand it; I can't explain it. But I feel it.
I feel the charge, and the pain, and the "blocks".
I feel the release, and the movement.
I don't understand it, but I don't need to, because it brings me peace.

With a summer which ranged from daytrips to my local and favorite national parks, bike rides to my local scenic escapes,  week long road trips to discover new places, the essential coffee (and wine) dates with friends, and dinners with the "family", this summer for me has been a summer of growth.

The summer started out shaky as medical issues uncovered themselves leaving me with medical bills and treatments accompanied with the ever looming possibility of further surgery. My physical world, my body, was out of balance. Not quite strong enough to fight for itself, needing just an extra medical hand to get my cells back into motion.

It's a scary thing to be told that "You can't fight this battle alone. You need help; Please take action and let us help you".

As if that wasn't enough, my physical world wasn't the only thing out of synch. It was through a summer of yoga, professional guidance, and acupuncture, that I admitted to myself, that "I can't fight this alone". Thankfully though, I didn't have to. I have the greatest support network in the world, but I needed to recognize that it was going to get a lot darker before I reconnected with the light.

I am choosing to write about this my summer battle publicly, and it has taken me months to decide whether or not to do so. I was moved to do so by a friends blog post from about a year ago as she wrote about the unfortunate hardships of pregnancy, and this latest elephant journal post about apologizing to our wonderful selves and our bodies (Read it here. No seriously. Read it).

Fact is world, I have an eating disorder.
And this is the first time that I have found the truest sense of defeat and yet the strongest sense of hope.

My body never held me back. I never needed to stop skiing, yoga, climbing, hiking, running, etc. because of my physical shape. My head held me back. Seeing 155 on the scale every single god damn day despite working out 5 days a week and climbing like a fool, held me back.

I heard doctors, and family say "muscle weighs more than fat" over and over again, but I didn't hear it. I longed to be 135. I never felt influenced by the media the same way that many women with eating disorders have. I didn't compare myself to professional athletes, well--because I wasn't a professional athlete. I am my own biggest critic. I accept everyone for their body type, I really don't see size in other people, so why do I see it in myself?

I recognize that without physical activity and engagement, I don't have much. I need activity in my life. I need to know that I can always at any given moment, take off and play; And play=calories. Anorexia was not for me. I understood the science that energy and mental alertness was a product of my food choices. Plus, I like good wine and good micro-brews (Thank you, Willamette Valley), and no one likes the drunk girl, so I knew I needed food in my belly. So I began to purge. The good ol' finger down the hatch trick.

It became a part of my nightly ritual. Wash face, vomit, brush teeth, read, zzzzzzz.
Here's the kicker. I didn't lose any weight. I just got more and more defeated.

So I cracked. I poured out my defeat to a therapist, and acupuncturist, my four parents, and a small small number of my closest friends. I didn't stop purging, and I would be a liar if I told you that last night I didn't purge. But I have turned my love inwards and taken my own soul to hold as if saying "Melissa, you can do this. You are beautiful."

And I can. I have made huge strides already. I just didn't realize that I was making them. By allowing my soul to take over during hikes, by surrounding myself with friends, by curling up on the couch with my main man, Sly, I realized that all along I was telling myself "you deserve yourself".

I write today for myself.
I recover today for my youngest sister, Madalyn.
I restore because love is transferable. Love is the most powerful movement.
I work daily though acupuncture, yoga, dancing in the car, ice cream breaks, and high-fives, because I have a commitment to myself.

Loving yourself is hard. Respecting your body is even harder. So here is my own letter to myself:

Dear Body,

You're really something else, ya know that?
I have put you through so much. We have been broken together and we have healed together.
We have fallen off a lot of things, and I mean a lot of things.
Remember your first red-point? Remember your first summit? Remember laying in bed after your first 26 mile hike and having to call your boss the next day to say that you literally couldn't get out of bed because you were so sore?
Remember your first partner? Remember the first time you were your own partner?
We've slept together on dirt paths, in the back of the Subaru, in the tent, in the bed.
We have traveled together, and explored new countries together.
I'm sorry that you'll never fit into a pair of size four jeans again. These hips are too powerful for that size nowadays. Hey-thanks for these hips and this ass by the way.
I'm sorry that part our nightly routine now includes bonding while heaving. I promise that with time, we can find a better alternative.
We've had a lot of fun. I never gave you enough credit, but you and I, are a damn good team.
I'm working on loving all 155 of you, I really am.
We have so much ahead for us. So many more countries to get to, so many more climbs to red-point, and SO much more great food/beer/wine to try.
I promise to respect you more.
The best is yet to come.

Love,
Melissa