motion [moh-shuh n]

1.the action or process of moving or of changing place or position; movement.
2.power of movement, as of a living body.
3.the manner of moving the body in walking; gait.
4.a bodily movement or change of posture; gesture.
5.a proposal formally made to a deliberative assembly: to make a motion to adjourn.
6.Law. an application made to a court or judge for an order, ruling, or the like.
7.a suggestion or proposal.
8.an inward prompting or impulse; inclination: He will go only of his own motion.
9.Music. melodic progression, as the change of a voice part from one pitch to another.
10.Machinery.
a.a piece of mechanism with a particular action or function.
b.the action of such a mechanism. –verb (used with object)
11.to direct by a significant motion or gesture, as with the hand: to motion a person to a seat. –verb (used without object)
12.to make a meaningful motion, as with the hand; gesture; signal: to motion to someone to come. —Idioms
13.go through the motions, to do something halfheartedly, routinely, or as a formality or façade.
14.in motion, in active operation; moving: The train was already in motion when he tried to board it.

I am not quite sure what it is. I just can't place it. Sometimes I think about it more often then not but I am pretty sure it is the ocean. The motion of the ocean stirs something within me that I am not used to. I once had a friend who skipped a breath at the sight of a moth. They said that a moth flying towards the light, with its wings too fragile to withstand it, but its heart too lustful to resist it, was how they felt about the world. I never quite understood how someone could become so moved by a moth but then I recognize the stillness in me and the breath that is taken when I look out to the sea. There is an unrest that only the undertoes can realate to. Smooth as slate the water can be but it will never deny the slightest ripple to burrow within its calm. I have felt a feeling of content here in Dalarö that I havent felt for a long time but one look at where stillness meets motion and I cant deny the urge to move on. Today, Anna, Felicia, and myself spent time on an island only a ferry ride away, absorbing all the sun was willing to give and being reminded of it by the redness in our cheeks. There is nothing like a day with the girls. I think Patrick Swayze and Wesley Snipes spoke of it best. Sure they were drag queens, but even they could rustle the feathers of any woman at the mention of a day with the girls. We ate and laughed equally enough that at the end of the day I am not sure why my stomach hurts more. Felicia ran and I ran with her and we giggled in our own languages but still were able to understand that it was all about the fun and nothing at all about the talk. We blew dandelion kites into our faces and smelled lilacs and examined bugs and bunnies. The girls will be missed and I cant help but hope that one day, say when Felicia is 20 or so, she comes and visits wherever I may be in the world on her own great adventure.

Last night the paddlers reconviended in Nacka for a meal to die for. The pastries I baked were good but not nearly as good as the company. They also disapeared quickly while the conversations lasted for hours. Due to recently developed car troubles we went by boat...........skipping from land mass to land mass by stretches of water is the most incredible means of transportation I have come across and I am sad to leave it behind. The next boat I catch will be to Finland and the journey is in motion once again.

Here's to the girls, to the sweet Swedish boys, to the not too sweet not so Swedish boy, and to the sea.

It's our anniversary

That is right. The world and I, we are celebrating. One month ago we decided to get together and we are still going strong. Call it young love if you want but we are pretty much in it for the long haul. Everything is still romantic, the future is always looking brighter and brighter, the friends we meet like our company and how we are together......we are basically a match made in heaven. Sometimes we ask ourselves "how lucky are we"?

Pretty damn lucky.

I am celebrating in Sweden this week and so far it has been incredible. Neil and I flew up a few nights ago (and can I just say that it only cost me £12 to do so!) and were picked up by an old friend of Neil's, Pelle. Two things that came as a surprise: We landed at 11:30 at night and the sun was just going down. We went to bed at about 2 in the morning and the sun was already coming up. The Swedish know how to rock it in the summer mainly because they have been trapped in darkness for over half of the year. When the sun comes out, they come out with it. It is like an extreme version of Washington I have decided. Everyone is dreary with the weather and then all of a sudden the sun comes out and you see people you have never seen out of their homes before running through the pastures like daffodils, winded by cantering cows. Needless to say, the sun is here and so my time in Sweden so far has been well spent.

I woke up to the most incredible view. Pelle's home sits overlooking the sea from the island of Dalarö which you get to by crossing the smallest of bridges. His wife Anna and daughter Felicia (2yrs old) are both breathtakingly beautiful and like everyone else I have encountered, incredibly kind and welcoming. Aside from his wonderful family, Pelle devotes the rest of his life to the water and paddling across it. The first day we set off to help him organize a canoing trip on the lake surrounding Stockholm. It was the best days work I have ever had. Neil and I babysat backpacks while we waved the group of paddlers off into the distance. We then strenuously soaked up all the sun we possibly could and waved them back in again. Into our second day we were organizing our own boating adventures. The whole reason I was able to come was because Pelle had invited Neil to join him and his paddling club on their weekend trip up to Rättvik, which is about 3 hours north of Sweden. Myself, Pelle, Neil, and Gustaf barely made the drive. Between all of the random pastimes, photo albums, joke telling, and ripping into Gustaf's ipod I didnt know if I was going to make it alive. At one point I actually thought that Pelle was going to crash the car from laughing so hard. By the end of the trip I was crying, about to pee my pants, and barely able to feel my cheeks after smiling for three hours straight.

We capped the night with the rest of the crew, some beer, and warm beds in a hotel that overlooks the water. Today we have already been out in our 12 man catamaran canoe once and head out again in an hour or so. The food is delicious, I here the sauna is going to be fantastic, and Neil is leading a yoga class to ease our swollen arms at the end of the day. I am not quite sure when we leave but I do know that it isn't far enough away. I may be staying in Sweden longer then I had first intended, which is fine because I only bought a one way ticket anyway. Neil leaves on the 28th but Eric, one of the paddlers, has a print studio and apparently could use an extra hand for a while. I am excited to have some work for a bit, assuming it all pans out, and it will be nice to smell ink again.

I don't think about home as much as I thought I would and in all honesty most fades away as the day go on. Forgetfulness is a characteristic that I am getting used to. Was it really that bad? Probably. Should I try to fix things? Maybe not. My mom says let it all go, move one, live your life, and enjoy the world while you can. I said that all of that was sometimes unbearable. In these days it isn't so hard to forget, rub out, delete, etc. Besides, the world is a big place, and so far, we haven't had enough of each other.

Love: A commentation

We waste time looking for the perfect lover, instead of creating the perfect love. -Tom Robbins

Most of this has been said before but I have recently been compelled to say it again in my own words. I stumbled upon the above quote while desperately seeking the answer to my unwavering connections with beets (and beats alike). I then, within moments maybe, was forced for the first time so far on my trek to sit down and evaluate my initial decision to leave in the first place. I also, and others do too, I am sure, would like to take the issue of irony up with whatever player may be in control of this game of life that we are all so dutifully involved in. Myself, and so many others, are tired of being subject to the cats and dogs that pile on us every day. I personally would prefer a gradual, manageable (as in time enough for me to get my slicker on), trickle of events that may or may not be in correlation of each other. It makes the issue of time more pressing than necessary. Must we deal with the issue as fast as it seems to come at us from so many different avenues and orifices of our lives?

That said, my commentation.

After have been in a year and some odd months, plus all of the letters and sweet nothings built on top of that, of a relationship, I find that I go in and out of convincing myself that I am incomplete. It isn't a foreign feeling. I think I must have felt it most of my life and that is what caused me to search to be with someone else. Right? I wanted to feel complete, so I sought out somebody else to complete me. I am sure this goes for most people less the elite few that are evolved enough to find stability within themselves without another person to contribute. I have decided that it hasn't really mattered what amount of time has been spent invested in a relationship, sooner or later, one or both of the participating persons find that they are still unfulfilled. I myself, blame the partner and more often than not move on to a more promising one. I am sure the same goes for anyone on the other side and mind you this initiates a race (who will move on first and who will be left to blame).

I may only be twenty but I have participated in this cycle enough times to recognize it, which leads me to believe that it could go on and on until I admit one thing (this is the good part and the answer to why I left in the first place): being with someone can add the richest of dimensions to my life but in the end I am responsible for my own fulfillment. This fulfillment can not be provided by anyone else and if I am to believe in anything else, I am as he said, delusional. It will also cause eventual failure in every relationship I may enter.

So, excuse me but fuck! I now have this information in front of me and I am being a stubborn asshole about it. I am having an (of many to come, I am sure) experience of my lifetime. I am going to Sweden tomorrow, from there I am moving through countries in which I have never been, know not a soul, and have very few inklings as far as what I am going to do. It also may seem silly to most, but I don't even have a map.....I haven't this entire trip. That's right. I am travelling the world and I don't really know what it looks like on paper but in all reality the world is circle and maps are square and that translation doesn't really resonate with me.

I think what I am getting at here is that I am happy. I am happy to be lost. I am happy to know very few answers. I am happy to be in and of the world at a time of such insecurity and I am happy to know that at the end of the day I wont settle for feeling half fulfilled. I don't remember much about the book Eat Pray Love but I do remember how Loneliness was personified. Loneliness has nestled itself in tight at night and whispered into my ear on buses. Loneliness will be my friend before everything else in a time of need and I have decided that I would prefer better company. Loneliness is not a friend, loneliness is a feeling that I am willing to embrace as a real sensation. Today, I am not lonely, today I am not internally howling towards some illuminated globe called love that hangs to far off in the distance for my liking. Nothing I waste time looking for will be perfect even if it is all in my mind and somehow works out . Today I spend my time earnestly towards creating and whether love comes out of that I do not know but I do know that on this journey, I have been fulfilled, and it has nothing to do with anyone else. Love will find me if it also believes in this creation and it will find me because it is tired of searching the records and moments for answers. They can't be found. Love will find me when it stops looking and starts creating.

My Pen pal

There is a feeling that I can only hope most have experienced. If not, your time will come. You are at a place in your life where you have been completely detached from all forms of familiarity and want nothing more than to find a nice rock of no particular decent in no particular place to hide under for a to be determined amount of time. It is as though around every corner there lies no expectations, mainly because if you do have any you will be dreadfully disappointed when nothing turns up, but hope. You walk hopeful that at some point you will turn a corner and feel some sense of embrace. For me, on this trip so far, I have turned many corners finding nothing but the continued cobblestone from the road that led up to it. Once in a while there lies a nice bed of flowers that makes me smile or an old building with big knockers (ones that I usually cant resist lifting up, releasing, and running as the weight sounds throughout the rooms it masks) or people with faces and smiles that can change the outlook of my entire day. I have been in Liverpool for the past few days now and the lack of stress is preparing me for the move in an anxious sort of way. My Pen pal seems to write at just the right moments, usually moments before I decide to open my mailbox, and it sometimes makes me feel like I am Meg Ryan in such relief that within the chaos of her day someone is on the same page. Having debates over who is the lemming and who is the player and chitter chattering in an elongated sort of way over streams of emails that somehow result in conversations to look back on one day only to put a smile on your face.

My Pen pal seems to brighten the corners a little and sometimes I wonder how it all happened. I am on a hodgepodge journey, wandering aimlessly, mostly lost but not really because I have no particular place to be, and I never would have thought that at the end of the day it is nice to feel some form of release and warmth knowing I can write about it all to someone and at the same time be one lemming in a crowd with another. They have stuff to write about too. While you are on a trip all on your own it becomes a form of nourishment not to be deprived of for too long to feel like there is someone around (as in around the world) that will take away from the mentalitly one builds when all they have to do is think of themselves and what they are doing.

I don't know where I will end up but a great man said that it is about the journey and the endless motion from point As to Bs that really matters anyway.

On the side: went out last night with a gang of Liverpudlians and while I thought I was going to get away with wearing my red roo sneakers the whole of the UK society disagreed. I ended up dancing like a mad woman in black stiletto boots with rhinestone buckles.......the English lads couldn't get enough of me (or so they tell me).

Copy and Paste: Intended for someone else but still informative.

I had the most insane night/happenings/day in Dingle. Basically, I couldn't get a hold of the couchsurfing person(s) that I had originally intended on staying with so I went to that choir thing after my walks etc. It was incredible. I cried? It was so beautiful and it was in this old, old church and the singing was out of this world and then there was some traditional Irish music. It lasted for about two hours so by the time I was out I decided to walk back to one of the beautiful spots by the shore that I had scoped out earlier to sleep for the night. As I am walking, get this, this crazy looking tweaked out, tall, goofy, blonde, curly-haired, Irish guy says from the street "hey! what are you doing right now?" of course I am thinking, damn this sucks, what a bizarre introduction, and tell him that I am doing nothing, because that was true. Well, he invites me to come to listen to some music (he has a guitar in his hand) and I tag along. So, his jam session doesn't really pan out, or more so he decided that he didn't really want to go because it was his dad (who turns out to be a fairly well known musician in the area) and some older guys playing for some tourists in a swank hotel (one of whom did buy me a beer with out even asking me). This kids name is Breanan, and the first two questions he asks me are 1. Are you single (Yes, but Hell NO!) and 2. What is your star sign (You have got to be kidding me!). Anyway, we walk to this other pub which has the most amazing guys playing an accordion and guitar. Blondie wants to go get stoned and invites me to sleep at his house. I decline with an in your dreams, stick around till the music ends and end up getting a call at around 11 from one of the couchsurfing people. The guy turns out to be this awesome 37 yr old Dub named Conor who lives with his Aussie girlfriend (who is five months pregnant) Vanessa in Inch. So he picks me up in Dingle and we start driving for a half hour on windy dark roads and end up in this incredible little cottage (the three of us plus Jack the yellow lab) and they make me fruit salad and they include me in their paper bag list of baby names for suggestions. I wake up and look out the window of the little room they put me up in and find that I am on the slope of the most incredible green overlooking the entire bay/peninsula. I had a bus to catch at 2:30 so they took me to the beach and we went for a long walk near the ocean and then they drove me around on the back roads.

Breath.

Now sitting in Dublin Airport longing to be back in tall grass, swinging on forbidden tire swings, and, listening to that accordion player push buttons and tap feet to the beat of maybe my beat?

from the pool to the cork to the dingle

I have been having some of the most incredible days.

The bus ride to Liverpool from London was uneventful, too many roundabouts and non with grass in the middle, but seeing Neil again and meeting his family was great. Neil's dad picked me up at the bus stop and luckily for me he was just an older version of Neil so I had no problem finding him. I am sure I was easily picked out of the croud too. I was the only one without a baby on my hip standing outside. Liverpool, in my eyes, is just recovering from a midlife crises and all of the power to it. All of the city center, it seems, is being revamped, improved, etc. It was nice to walk around with Chris, Neil's friendly giant of a cousin, and tour the city. Did I mention that the days have been beautiful? They have. Apparently I am bringing the sun with me wherever I go. It didn't rain a drop while I was in London, Liverpool, or Cork, which is where I just came from. Monday morning I rode a bus from Dublin to Cork (don't get distracted on a short bus ride, it turns into a very long excursion) and I totally lucked out because I got to stay with the coolest people on the Island as far as I am concerned while I was there. It was a group of boys from St. Johns University in Minnesota who are studying abroad in Ireland. Thanks to my first couchsurfing experience I have made at least one new life long friend. Yea, that is you Greg! We both agree that we had the best Tuesday night in Cork that either of us have ever had.

Today, I am in Dingle. Possibly one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen and now I am off to go and enjoy the rest of my evening.

There is no place like anywhere but home

The past few days my mind has been in a panic. It is as though my internal being, all of the machines and clocks it runs by, all of the dreams and visions it sees, and all of the natural processes it should know, have somehow left its' memory. Here I am on the outside, with little control of the inside, trying to orchestrate life and motion all on my own. As I fall asleep I think to myself "where would the nob that turns down my volume a little be"? I am pretty sure my insides believe that what they are going through isn't real. It is as though they are going through their own unrealistic protest as they would in a dream.

As far as the outside me? It is enjoying a quiet week in Dormans Park. Long walks in vast fields. Being creative with Helen and crying at old musicals. Lots of tea.

Chloe Abshire

This is the mantra I have decided to tell myself when I lose confidence in my ability to travel alone. Lying to myself and others about the level of confidence I have is much easier then giving into the pressures of people trying to make me scared. Chloe Abshire is the girl I want to be when boys at coffee shops come to sit down next to the girl who ordered coffee in an American accent. She is full of life, not so immediately dismissive, and enjoys meeting nice people and making conversation about the weather. I am not saying I am not typically that girl but there is a time in ones life where they just want to sit by themselves, think about nothing, and watch all the people skip puddles through the window. On the other hand I recognize that I am alone and travelling, and that meeting people along the way will make all of the difference. So, even though I do not feel like socializing excessively at this current junction in my life, I can always resort to introducing myself as otherwise. Today, I gave it a shot. It went so well that I might just have to pull Chloe (or one of the other ladies from the depths) out a few more times on this trip. Just for an extra boost of confidence.