snowshoeing.

we wander along the tundra. my traveling companion and i. on perhaps the same earth we once gathered berries. and danced in the sunlight. during that seemingly eternal summer.

we wander along the tundra. now a sea of white. except for the islands of brown willows that rise above the surface. and though we are limited. by the cold. by the darkness. we still find moments of light. moments of warmth. to admire the nearby hills. to marvel at the distant mountains. as we leave the marks of our journey in the snow.

quite often those moments coexist with the sun's celebration at the close of the day. as she slowly departs in vibrant hues to share her light with other lands. and those sunsets remind us of endings. of beginnings. but mostly of beauty. beyond our understanding. beyond ourselves. yet beauty that we are somehow allowed to witness. somehow allowed to be a part of.

and we strive to be mindful. of the present beauty. the present moment. but our hearts are curious. of the views from the hills ahead. and a certain anticipation stirs. as we approach the crests of new perspectives. as we imagine what our eyes may experience on the other side. yet to focus only on that which is beyond. blinds us of the splendor all around.

perhaps the secret. is finding a balance. honouring what is. trusting in what will be. believing in the existence of beauty. wherever this interconnected journey leads.

hills.

every new place inspires humility. a reminder that there is so much yet to discover. so much to yet to learn. so much yet to experience. traveling is broadening. in more ways than one. a kindred spirit still whispers in my ear.

and the mountains are different here. towering over this quaint little town they call a city. with trees for sweaters. and snow for hats. an inexcapable presence. continually reminding us that there are things greater than ourselves. stirring awe. perpetuating mystery.

and amidst the hilly avenues. coffee shops enable paths to cross with dear friends. book stores offer windows and mirrors of understanding. community art spaces showcase collective beauty. examples of native art persist as cultures blend. strangers glady accept a smashed granola bar from the depths of a canvas bag.

and at the zenith of one particular hill. people gather. in fancy suits. shaking hands. and talking about how to make our corner of the world. a little brighter. and perhaps some words are empty. perhaps some words float around aimlessly. but there are words. ideas. passions. that are heard. that may. just may. evolve into action. there's a certain energy. a certain hope. about the conversations on top of this hill.

and down below. are the people that are affected. by the words exchanged on that hill. and i belong down below. amidst everyday people. amidst grassroots. amidst struggle. but my eyes have been opened. my perspective widened. to the everyday people who work on that hill. who somehow have been chosen. to make decisions. that have potential. to help feed children who are hungry. to support people struggling with substance abuse. to expand educational opportunities. if only they will listen. to the voices raised. if only those voices will find courage to speak. with confidence they will be heard.

if only.

one year.

one year ago. everything was mysteriously white. a world hidden. underneath depths of ice. revealing only the surface. to innocent eyes. inspiring awe. stirring wonder. an unfathomable unknowing. all amidst profound darkness.

and in time. ever so gradually. cold transformed to warmth. and darkness evolved into light. and vanishing ice. revealed a world underneath. of tundra and berries. of beaches and sea glass. a rainbow of colour. bursting forth.

and in time. darkness crept in. and cold returned. blanketing the earth once again with white mystery. but somehow in a year. after being amidst a full cycle. there is a bit more understanding. of the beauty beneath the surface. and there will always be unfathomable unknowing. and there will always be more to learn. but there is comfort in being present. long enough to see. hidden depths. long enough to visualize. what hope looks like.

one year ago. i discovered alaska.

rain.

wandering city streets in the rain. eyes open for hidden treasures. whole in the wall coffee shops. used book stores with cats. overwhelming record stores. eccentric art displays. without much of a plan. besides a hope of discovering beauty. in whatever varied forms she decided to reveal herself. and there was a certain beauty in the women at the day shelter. in stories and friendships. in laughter and singing. in confidence and hope. and that beauty remains with me. even more than the dazzling city lights.

and i wouldn't say i fell in love with seattle. perhaps i can blame it on the cold january rain. but i can say i hope to return. for there is always more to discover. more to learn. and i'm thankful for a dear friend. who lives there. honouring people. promoting dignity. with compassion. and humility. who is a part of beautiful things. things too beautiful for words, really.

carolina.

nearly every morning. the sun would wake me up. eight o clock or so. and i'd walk over to my window. to greet her. to thank her for the light. the abundant light. and for the day.

and some days were filled with journeys. alongside one of my favourite traveling companions. as we made our way. in search of family. of friends. of places. that i hadn't seen in a year. or more. and we talked about things that were certain. and things that were uncertain. or we didn't talk at all. and simply listened. to the music that followed us. and we agreed that the journeys were worth the miles.

and some days were quieter. traveling on foot. admiring the trees. the fallen leaves. the patches of snow. the frozen lake. and reading. and being. and taking time. and abandoning hurry. days wondering what will be. days in between worlds. trying to make sense of it all. trying to listen.

and i loved when we could sit around the table. for hours. sharing delicious food. and laughter. and memories. as the birds sang. reminding us of time passing. and i didn't have to answer questions. or have a plan. but could just be with people i love. and feel loved.

and questions remain. without answers. as they always will. but somehow what will be will unravel as the journey continues. as i wander. with hope. with open eyes. my soul stumbling upon whatever it was searching for all along.

twenty five.

i loved that caroline gave me clip on holiday earings. i loved that folks made a special point to call. i loved that mom's russian tea tasted like christmas. i loved that fawn made too much fry bread. i loved that leah magically salvaged my humble attempt at grandma's red velvet cake. i loved that so many friends filled our tiny living room with conversation and laughter. i loved that people contributed foods that were meaningful in their lives. i loved that there was enough for everyone. i loved that folks brought guitars and harmonicas. i loved that people donated gifts for the shelter. i loved that friends knew me well enough to bring homemade and thrift shop gifts as well. i loved that now mukluk has his very own christmas ornament. i loved that i felt loved.

but what really made my birthday. was when we brought leftovers to the shelter. and we figured out that it was one of the guests' birthday too. and she declared me her "birthday twin." with multiple hugs. and we sang a cheerful "happy birthday to us." and there was shared experience. and joy. and it somehow completed the day.

and although this year promises much uncertainty at the moment. i celebrate it. i welcome it. i wait and see. i listen. i wonder. just what will be.

hope.

neither one of us expected it to be on the front page. in the sunday paper at that. but there it was. in black and white. the reality of it all. spoken plainly. and he seemed rather overwhelmed. but said maybe, just maybe someone will wake up. people need to know. homelessness exists here. but it exists everywhere. and people's eyes need to be opened.

and he was so brave to talk to that reporter. to share his voice. his story. but now he seems apprehensive. of what others may think. or say. but mostly. folks around here tell him he did a good job. that they are proud of him.

and then we imagined. what if there was a part two. a sequel to the story. that his situation changed. for the better.

he said he was tired of all of this. and ready to try again. for something different. for something more. and i said that story would certainly be worthy of front page news again. even though we agreed neither one of us are front page news kind of people.

but we determined it was worth a try.

and something like hope surrounded us in that moment. as we concluded something good will come out of this. it must.