Da Vinci is someone I have long admired. I use him as an example of the fact that humans have endless capabilities. Sure Da Vinci was a genius but I think we hide the genius in all of us by compartmentalizing our lives. Da Vinci was classically trained. He was an artist, inventor, architect, stagecrafter, mathematician, doctor of anatomy and writer. He could not be placed in one of our modern day boxes we have created that seem to only entrap our creativity and bind our souls. I do believe many of us could be Da Vinci's.
It was with eager anticipation that I walked with my boys to Science World in order to view the traveling Da Vinci exhibit. Once inside we spent hours playing the hundreds, maybe thousands of science games. We puzzled over hand puzzles. We tested a lever to see if we could lift a rhino. We created dams on rivers. We predicted the outcome of games. We measured our jump, limberness and quick response. In other words we played for at least four hours.
Finally we came to the Da Vinci exhibit. I tried to explain to my boys who he was and why this would be so fascinating. The exhibit is based on his notebooks which were used to recreate his inventions utilizing only materials that would have been available to him during his lifetime. One feature is huge poster-size enlargements of his notebooks throughout. Several of the notebooks are also on display and no bigger than a 3 by 5 card.
Da Vinci was an observer of the world around him. When he wasn't inventing he was improving on the designs of others, scuba equipment was one invention where he made improvements. Always inquisitive, his quest for knowledge led him to dissect 30 cadavers over his lifetime which was illegal and had to be done in secret. He carefully drew each part of the human body and left for the generations ahead knowledge of unknown magnitude and depth. His drawings included descriptions of the functions of each internal organ.
Each invention that has been recreated for the exhibit is a masterpiece in an of itself. There are things still used in today's world that Da Vinci invented such as the coiled irrigation pipe. He invented many flying machines and confessed, "Man will fly, if not me someone else." He studied birds and copied their wings. He made several flying models incorporating large bird type wings. He invented independent suspension which is used in automobiles. A large portion of his inventions were devoted to the military. This is how he made his money. He was paid by the prince of the town where he lived and they most wanted military machines.
Da Vinci invented a bridges, ladders to climb castle walls, a tower with bridge that rolled up to a castle wall spanning the moat and allowed for attack and guns that fired multiple rounds. He lived in a time of war and therefore made his money contributing to war but all the while he explored his other interests.
The end of the exhibit was dedicated to his art particularly the Last Supper and the Mona Lisa. The Last Supper was projected digitally on the wall as a commentator explained how many times it had been "restored" poorly so many times that only with recent technology were they able to find the original work. Another restoration is currently underway. Perhaps I will see it on my next trip to Italy. They had a replica Mona Lisa. Once again with the Mona Lisa they showed how technology has allowed them to determine the actual colors he used as well as shown them the veil she was wearing. Da Vinci died without finishing the Mona Lisa. It would be interesting to know what he would have added.
Artist, inventor, scientist, writer; Da Vinci was a true Renaissance man. The key to his genius was that he questioned everything around him. In modern times we "know" so much that we often forget to question. What would we be led to discover if we only questioned everything?
Monday, August 27, 2012
Sunday, August 26, 2012
The boys and I go to Canada
As I lay sleeping in Vancouver BC, window propped open by a picture frame to combat the heat, I am awoken one more morning by the sound of birds and bells. But these are not the birds of Rome sweetly chirping while the church bells toll nor are they the familiar sound of Goldfinches singing outside my own bedroom window. Instead it is the squawking of Seagulls one after another drowning out both the bells and the flock of pigeons cooing right outside my window on the neighboring roof. I give into the Seagulls and raise myself from the bed to ready myself and the boys for the trip home.
This trip has taught me plenty. It was meant as an introduction to foreign travel for my boys; a test to see if they would be ready for Europe in two years. We explored endlessly. They were unafraid of the city although Nikolai said he would probably get lost alone in the city. They loved, as I do, listening to all the different languages being spoken as we passed people on the streets. They were decent at navigating busy city streets and I only had to remind them a handful of times that we were not in Prineville anymore. We walked almost everywhere and they complained very little. Besides walking we rode a train, a trolley, a bus, bikes and a subway. The subway and trolley were both first for the boys and they were excited. Unfortunately on the subway they were smashed in the middle of the crowd and couldn't see out once it came above ground. They liked its speed.
More than a few times they called cars as we passed on the roadways; Maserati, Porsche, Lamborghini, Ferrari. "Is everyone in the city rich?" they inquired. They could count the number of trucks we saw on one hand.
On our first day we visited the Capilano Suspension Bridge. The boys woke up early eager to explore. I made oatmeal in the room and quickly discovered I had not brought near enough food. Boys eat a meal and five short minutes later they are starving again. We would have to find a grocery store today and stock up.
We walked through Gastown exploring the inner workings of the steam clock. Its gears exposed by glass clicked and turned and the vents at the bottom of the clock poured out heat like a radiator.
On we walked to Canada Place taking pictures and looking at both the waterfront and the skyscrapers that are as foreign to us as the languages being spoken on the streets. A homeless man offered to take our picture and I consented knowing he would be asking for a little money. I gave him a couple of dollars in coins and he graciously thanked us. On we went ready to board the shuttle to the park. I attempted to buy some juice for the boys, one of our morning staples, and quickly found out it is a premium product in Canada costing anywhere from three to five dollars for a very small bottle. We would have to do without for the day.
The shuttle ride was an adventure. It chugged up the hill to the park dying more than once along the way while the driver reassured us she would make it. At last she died as we turned into the parking lot but we had made it.
The park's website had advertised more than just a suspension bridge and I expected to spend the day but upon arrival we discovered it was very small. We spent the first few minutes arranging our newly acquired yellow rain ponchos over our bodies and then explored the exhibit on native Canadians. We spoke with a native man about a wooden canoe and he explained it was just a replica. Native canoes would have been built two from one tree by splitting it down the middle. These canoes took the natives to Oregon, Washington, Alaska and even Hawaii. Hawaii seemed impossible to me but he explained that the natives first knew the trade winds, could smell land and knew where fresh water springs existed in the ocean. They navigated to far away places using those three keys. He said pollution has destroyed the smell of the land and it is no longer possible to find their way. There was a sadness in his eyes and I got the feeling he didn't often get to tell people this much of his people's story. Most people quickly moved past the exhibit not stopping to talk at all.
We moved on to the suspension bridge and I was anticipating fear from Max who is not a fan of heights. We all three quickly moved onto the bridge and Max wasn't frightened. The bridge wobbled and swayed to and fro as the river gently passed hundreds of feet below. Once across we explored the pond where we spotted a few fish. We moved on to the "raptors exhibit" which consisted of one Barn Owl and a Harris Hawk. The tree house adventure was a series of platforms connected by suspension bridges. It was small and only took a few minutes to cross. Later we took the canyon walk which has plexiglass overlooks of the river and granite walls. We were disappointed to not be able to leave the walkways to explore the Pacific Rainforest more. There were not any trails for us to hike and we were not able to hike down to the river either. We were finished with the park in just a couple of hours.
We followed the advice of one of the park workers and walked up the hill a couple of miles to a small village for lunch. There was a deli tucked off the main road between a barber shop and bookstore known only to locals and we ordered some soup and sandwiches. It was expensive, as I later found every meal in Vancouver to be. We ate outside since the skies had cleared and the sun was warm. On our way back we stopped at a grocery store and picked up snacks and oatmeal.
When we returned to the park we were lucky to catch the trolley shuttle back down to Vancouver. The trolley blazed down the hill at breakneck speed as we held on, Nikolai looping his arms through mine to keep himself from falling out the large open window. We laughed the whole way back bouncing and shifting around.
Back at Canada Place there was a ship in port so we decided to take a look. As we walked towards the ship I noticed a museum exhibit about the War of 1812. I told the boys on the way back we would have to look at it. They were less than thrilled but I convinced them. When we were finished we returned to the hostel and dropped off bags. Off we went again to explore the city. When the boys spotted the subway I asked a foodcart vendor the cost. It was inexpensive so I figured we would do it. She directed us to the station around the corner and told us to get off at Science World where we would be able to walk along the water and explore Olympic village.
Olympic village had huge statues of birds and spinning chairs down by the water. The boys took turns making one another dizzy on the chairs. I went once but not too fast. There were dragon boats practicing, kayakers on the water, bikers and runners all around. We threw rocks into the water and strolled slowly back to town. Science World caught the eyes of my boys and they begged to go. When we returned to the hotel we asked the front desk clerk. She checked to see what was being displayed and it turned out to be the world tour of the Davinci exhibit. I had to go! They next day we would head there but first pizza and sleep.
This trip has taught me plenty. It was meant as an introduction to foreign travel for my boys; a test to see if they would be ready for Europe in two years. We explored endlessly. They were unafraid of the city although Nikolai said he would probably get lost alone in the city. They loved, as I do, listening to all the different languages being spoken as we passed people on the streets. They were decent at navigating busy city streets and I only had to remind them a handful of times that we were not in Prineville anymore. We walked almost everywhere and they complained very little. Besides walking we rode a train, a trolley, a bus, bikes and a subway. The subway and trolley were both first for the boys and they were excited. Unfortunately on the subway they were smashed in the middle of the crowd and couldn't see out once it came above ground. They liked its speed.
More than a few times they called cars as we passed on the roadways; Maserati, Porsche, Lamborghini, Ferrari. "Is everyone in the city rich?" they inquired. They could count the number of trucks we saw on one hand.
On our first day we visited the Capilano Suspension Bridge. The boys woke up early eager to explore. I made oatmeal in the room and quickly discovered I had not brought near enough food. Boys eat a meal and five short minutes later they are starving again. We would have to find a grocery store today and stock up.
We walked through Gastown exploring the inner workings of the steam clock. Its gears exposed by glass clicked and turned and the vents at the bottom of the clock poured out heat like a radiator.
On we walked to Canada Place taking pictures and looking at both the waterfront and the skyscrapers that are as foreign to us as the languages being spoken on the streets. A homeless man offered to take our picture and I consented knowing he would be asking for a little money. I gave him a couple of dollars in coins and he graciously thanked us. On we went ready to board the shuttle to the park. I attempted to buy some juice for the boys, one of our morning staples, and quickly found out it is a premium product in Canada costing anywhere from three to five dollars for a very small bottle. We would have to do without for the day.
The shuttle ride was an adventure. It chugged up the hill to the park dying more than once along the way while the driver reassured us she would make it. At last she died as we turned into the parking lot but we had made it.
The park's website had advertised more than just a suspension bridge and I expected to spend the day but upon arrival we discovered it was very small. We spent the first few minutes arranging our newly acquired yellow rain ponchos over our bodies and then explored the exhibit on native Canadians. We spoke with a native man about a wooden canoe and he explained it was just a replica. Native canoes would have been built two from one tree by splitting it down the middle. These canoes took the natives to Oregon, Washington, Alaska and even Hawaii. Hawaii seemed impossible to me but he explained that the natives first knew the trade winds, could smell land and knew where fresh water springs existed in the ocean. They navigated to far away places using those three keys. He said pollution has destroyed the smell of the land and it is no longer possible to find their way. There was a sadness in his eyes and I got the feeling he didn't often get to tell people this much of his people's story. Most people quickly moved past the exhibit not stopping to talk at all.
We moved on to the suspension bridge and I was anticipating fear from Max who is not a fan of heights. We all three quickly moved onto the bridge and Max wasn't frightened. The bridge wobbled and swayed to and fro as the river gently passed hundreds of feet below. Once across we explored the pond where we spotted a few fish. We moved on to the "raptors exhibit" which consisted of one Barn Owl and a Harris Hawk. The tree house adventure was a series of platforms connected by suspension bridges. It was small and only took a few minutes to cross. Later we took the canyon walk which has plexiglass overlooks of the river and granite walls. We were disappointed to not be able to leave the walkways to explore the Pacific Rainforest more. There were not any trails for us to hike and we were not able to hike down to the river either. We were finished with the park in just a couple of hours.
We followed the advice of one of the park workers and walked up the hill a couple of miles to a small village for lunch. There was a deli tucked off the main road between a barber shop and bookstore known only to locals and we ordered some soup and sandwiches. It was expensive, as I later found every meal in Vancouver to be. We ate outside since the skies had cleared and the sun was warm. On our way back we stopped at a grocery store and picked up snacks and oatmeal.
When we returned to the park we were lucky to catch the trolley shuttle back down to Vancouver. The trolley blazed down the hill at breakneck speed as we held on, Nikolai looping his arms through mine to keep himself from falling out the large open window. We laughed the whole way back bouncing and shifting around.
Back at Canada Place there was a ship in port so we decided to take a look. As we walked towards the ship I noticed a museum exhibit about the War of 1812. I told the boys on the way back we would have to look at it. They were less than thrilled but I convinced them. When we were finished we returned to the hostel and dropped off bags. Off we went again to explore the city. When the boys spotted the subway I asked a foodcart vendor the cost. It was inexpensive so I figured we would do it. She directed us to the station around the corner and told us to get off at Science World where we would be able to walk along the water and explore Olympic village.
Olympic village had huge statues of birds and spinning chairs down by the water. The boys took turns making one another dizzy on the chairs. I went once but not too fast. There were dragon boats practicing, kayakers on the water, bikers and runners all around. We threw rocks into the water and strolled slowly back to town. Science World caught the eyes of my boys and they begged to go. When we returned to the hotel we asked the front desk clerk. She checked to see what was being displayed and it turned out to be the world tour of the Davinci exhibit. I had to go! They next day we would head there but first pizza and sleep.
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
Familiar Contentment
I am abundantly familiar with contentment. I might even be considered an expert. However at this stage of my life I am instead questioning this familiarity and challenging myself to dream bigger.
I am currently reading a book on buying a house in Italy thanks to some friends who already own there. The book is designed for English speakers and mostly the British but it is interesting and loaded with necessary information.
It is broke down by region and explains what types of properties are typically available in those regions. So far I have narrowed it down to North of Naples somewhere. That encompasses basically all of Italy. The reasons for eliminating Naples are several. First, if I do eventually and by eventually I mean years down the road want to live there permanently I would not find Naples appealing. The area does not experience seasons as much as in other areas. I have lived where there was a lack of seasons. Montana has two; summer and winter, fall and spring are smashed into approximately two total months. I loved Montana for its beautiful mountains but found the winters long and painful and longed for the hot summers, colorful falls and abundant springs of Oregon. A second and important reason not to head to Naples or further south is "fire insurance". The book clearly states that if you are asked to buy "fire insurance" you should do it. We can all read between the lines and figure out what that means. Third, I am looking for a country home, somewhere serene and peaceful. Naples doesn't strike me as serene and peaceful. Perhaps after I visit in December I will change my mind.
The areas that most appeal to me, those close to areas of interest. I want to be in the country but able to jump a train or bus and head to the city or the sea and be there in a couple of hours. In Italy this is an easy task. Simply look at the geography. The boot is thin, jutting out into the Mediterranean and surrounded by two seas. I could potentially own a place in the mountains and be to either sea in two hours.
Living in the mountains usually means living near a national park where hiking and outdoor activities abound; perfect for myself and my active lifestyle.
"Familiar" is a word repeated frequently in this book. The author uses the word to evoke a sense of security or comfort. He often explains that a place will be familiar to an English speaker because there are many English speakers already living there or the Italians have catered to English speakers in that area. But I don't want familiar. If I wanted familiar I wouldn't be buying a house in Italy. Each time I read this term about a place it is quickly eliminated from potential places to buy a residence. Tuscany, so beloved by English speakers that it is now considered saturated, is off the list. It was too expensive anyway. The Italian Riviera is also out as it was once a English colony. If I desired English culture I would buy a place in England. No, I love Italian culture and would like to be exposed to it as often as possible. If I live in an area that is familiar this will not happen.
Strangely this word familiar has also struck me as linked with contentment. On Sunday our preacher spoke of contentment. I feel as if I am an expert in the area of contentment. I have been content no matter what my circumstances most of my life. Contentment is familiar to me and perhaps that is one of the reasons the two terms are bothering me so much. I have been content raising my children basically alone for the last six years. It is familiar to do so and yet it is not fulfilling. It is a daunting task full of upheaval and nights spent wondering if I have done the right thing. I wonder these things to myself because I do not have someone to bounce those ideas off of. I have been content living in a rental in a subdivision, nothing I had ever envisioned for my life. Contentment is synonymous with acceptance correct? In other words I have accepted the fact that I was forced off of my acreage and into town. I have been content with sacrificing all of my dreams for my children. I have not been resentful in doing so because I love being a mother and I deeply love my children. It is only through loving our children that we see the depth of God's love for us. Each time they mess up and we forgive, we are reminded that God does the same. Therefore, I believe it is safe to say I am familiar with contentment. I know God wishes for us to be content but at the same time he wishes for us to dream.
Dreaming is something that helps us to continue to be content. It gives us an escape and a goal to keep in mind. Don't we challenge our kids to "dare to dream"? But when we become adults we give up our dreams so easily. One of my long-held dreams was to visit Italy. I have fulfilled that. Another long-held dream is to live overseas perhaps while teaching. That will be my future. Writing and being paid, it is only a matter of time.
I have been busy dreaming since my return from Italy and I am dreaming big. When I think about buying a place in Italy my soul both leaps with excitement and finds solace in resting upon the knowledge that I will be home someday. My soul knows it belongs somewhere besides a subdivision surrounded by small lawns and sparsely planted trees. My soul does not wish to have the familiar because the familiar will lead to much discontent especially later in life when I am without children. My soul longs for Italy. My soul drives me to look up airfare daily and sign up for price alerts in order to book another trip. My soul says I cannot go another year without revisiting Italy. This time when I go I will have another goal in mind; looking at small farms and researching regions. I will be pursuing my passion because neglecting it blocks creativity.
Contentment can lead to resentment and to the non-fulfillment of your destiny. The familiar is easy but dreams are challenging. They are meant to push our boundaries of comfort and move us forward to something greater. Familiar contentment can be dangerous.
I am currently reading a book on buying a house in Italy thanks to some friends who already own there. The book is designed for English speakers and mostly the British but it is interesting and loaded with necessary information.
It is broke down by region and explains what types of properties are typically available in those regions. So far I have narrowed it down to North of Naples somewhere. That encompasses basically all of Italy. The reasons for eliminating Naples are several. First, if I do eventually and by eventually I mean years down the road want to live there permanently I would not find Naples appealing. The area does not experience seasons as much as in other areas. I have lived where there was a lack of seasons. Montana has two; summer and winter, fall and spring are smashed into approximately two total months. I loved Montana for its beautiful mountains but found the winters long and painful and longed for the hot summers, colorful falls and abundant springs of Oregon. A second and important reason not to head to Naples or further south is "fire insurance". The book clearly states that if you are asked to buy "fire insurance" you should do it. We can all read between the lines and figure out what that means. Third, I am looking for a country home, somewhere serene and peaceful. Naples doesn't strike me as serene and peaceful. Perhaps after I visit in December I will change my mind.
The areas that most appeal to me, those close to areas of interest. I want to be in the country but able to jump a train or bus and head to the city or the sea and be there in a couple of hours. In Italy this is an easy task. Simply look at the geography. The boot is thin, jutting out into the Mediterranean and surrounded by two seas. I could potentially own a place in the mountains and be to either sea in two hours.
Living in the mountains usually means living near a national park where hiking and outdoor activities abound; perfect for myself and my active lifestyle.
"Familiar" is a word repeated frequently in this book. The author uses the word to evoke a sense of security or comfort. He often explains that a place will be familiar to an English speaker because there are many English speakers already living there or the Italians have catered to English speakers in that area. But I don't want familiar. If I wanted familiar I wouldn't be buying a house in Italy. Each time I read this term about a place it is quickly eliminated from potential places to buy a residence. Tuscany, so beloved by English speakers that it is now considered saturated, is off the list. It was too expensive anyway. The Italian Riviera is also out as it was once a English colony. If I desired English culture I would buy a place in England. No, I love Italian culture and would like to be exposed to it as often as possible. If I live in an area that is familiar this will not happen.
Strangely this word familiar has also struck me as linked with contentment. On Sunday our preacher spoke of contentment. I feel as if I am an expert in the area of contentment. I have been content no matter what my circumstances most of my life. Contentment is familiar to me and perhaps that is one of the reasons the two terms are bothering me so much. I have been content raising my children basically alone for the last six years. It is familiar to do so and yet it is not fulfilling. It is a daunting task full of upheaval and nights spent wondering if I have done the right thing. I wonder these things to myself because I do not have someone to bounce those ideas off of. I have been content living in a rental in a subdivision, nothing I had ever envisioned for my life. Contentment is synonymous with acceptance correct? In other words I have accepted the fact that I was forced off of my acreage and into town. I have been content with sacrificing all of my dreams for my children. I have not been resentful in doing so because I love being a mother and I deeply love my children. It is only through loving our children that we see the depth of God's love for us. Each time they mess up and we forgive, we are reminded that God does the same. Therefore, I believe it is safe to say I am familiar with contentment. I know God wishes for us to be content but at the same time he wishes for us to dream.
Dreaming is something that helps us to continue to be content. It gives us an escape and a goal to keep in mind. Don't we challenge our kids to "dare to dream"? But when we become adults we give up our dreams so easily. One of my long-held dreams was to visit Italy. I have fulfilled that. Another long-held dream is to live overseas perhaps while teaching. That will be my future. Writing and being paid, it is only a matter of time.
I have been busy dreaming since my return from Italy and I am dreaming big. When I think about buying a place in Italy my soul both leaps with excitement and finds solace in resting upon the knowledge that I will be home someday. My soul knows it belongs somewhere besides a subdivision surrounded by small lawns and sparsely planted trees. My soul does not wish to have the familiar because the familiar will lead to much discontent especially later in life when I am without children. My soul longs for Italy. My soul drives me to look up airfare daily and sign up for price alerts in order to book another trip. My soul says I cannot go another year without revisiting Italy. This time when I go I will have another goal in mind; looking at small farms and researching regions. I will be pursuing my passion because neglecting it blocks creativity.
Contentment can lead to resentment and to the non-fulfillment of your destiny. The familiar is easy but dreams are challenging. They are meant to push our boundaries of comfort and move us forward to something greater. Familiar contentment can be dangerous.
Monday, August 6, 2012
Camping solo
Camping is one of my summer passions. I am always frustrated if at the end of the summer when we have only managed to camp a handful of times. This summer was certainly shaping up to be a less than abundant camping summer.
It occurred to me one day that we hadn't camped once this year and I knew that had to change. I talked it over with Max and Nikolai and decided we would go out to Prineville Reservoir. My plan was to load the canoe with camping gear, paddle to a sandy spot along the lake and camp for a night or two. So on a whim we did just that.
As we launched at the boat dock near the dam we were asked about our plans by a passing boat. I explained we really had none and they thought that was unusual but great.
Max had decided to man the front oar while I was in the rear. The canoe was heavy and Max likes to do everything in rapid fashion. Life is not fast enough for him but his paddling was too fast for me. We were zigzagging and getting nowhere fast. I enlisted Nikolai's help asking the two of them to exchange places. We were doing slightly better but I realized quickly that the main problem was both rowers were sitting backwards. I had allowed this because they complained there was not enough leg space. I could not take it anymore. I asked Nikolai to figure out how to sit the correct way and finally we were off at a good canoeing pace.
Canoeing is an art and you have to practice with patience. I have canoed with many people over the years. Big strong men like to paddle fast with maximum force. Women sometimes like to daintily place their paddle in the water and barely move any water. When it is done correctly it is beautiful to watch and experience. Rhythm is the key to canoeing. My sister and I have perfect rhythm and we glide through the water with ease. I have been molding my boys into expert canoers for eight years now. When they are alone together in the canoe they are in sync. Nikolai who is built more muscular takes the rear piloting seat while Max with his quick strokes takes the front. When I take over the rowing it throws the rhythm off immediately. Nikolai and I have an easier time regaining the proper strokes.
As we made our way down the lake, this lake that I have been visiting since I was a toddler, I was flooded with memories. This is my lake. I know this lake, each and every turn intimately. I know all of the sandy beaches, the twists and turns, where the water is colder, the most open spots for skiing, the rimrocks and their changing shapes and the best swimming holes. I look up and see the tall hill that overlooks what once was our place on the lake.
My sister was my constant companion on our visits to the lake. My Dad had loved this lake since he was young and decided to build a small cabin with two of his friends along its shores. It was our vacation spot. We would bring the boat over at the beginning of summer and leave it there until summer's end. It was the place I dug for bones under juniper trees, testing my hand at archaeology. It was the place where my sister skied and I kneeboarded. We would study the anthills that were just up from the flood plain. We caught frogs and raced them on the deck. Some were as small as bottle caps others several inches long. We endured countless sunburns in frying hot tents. We walked at night exploring the quieter side of the lake when the bats came out diving for bugs. Once a bat mistook our groups noise for the noise of bugs and dove at us tangling itself within my sister's hair before it quickly darted away. We played in the sand when we were younger and laid in it as we turned to teens. The lake saw every stage of our lives.
As we grew older our friends made their way to the lake with us. At first there were only girls but eventually the boys came along. With the boys came a whole new level of adventure. Rachelle always wanted to keep up with them and I watched and prayed a lot. One time two of our friends Todd and Jared decided to jump off some rocks, but not the ones everyone else jumps off of because those were too small. My sister agreed to join them and I drove the boat to pick them up scared to death as the fell several stories to the water.
These thousands of memories swarmed while I paddled. I first came back to Prineville to live in the lake house that my parents had purchased once we had grown out of the cabin. I walked along those shores that September filled with hope and inspiration. I never expected to stay so long.
We make camp at a small sandy shore. Our tent is placed close to the lake and on a slant. I explain to the boys that we will sleep with our legs downhill and be fine. We build our own fire pit. Then it happens, Nikolai spots a school of fish. My help is gone, they are busy putting together fishing poles and baiting the hook. Within minutes as I am still setting up sleeping bags they each have caught a fish. They caught at least ten that first day. They are each others constant companions in the summer and I secretly hope they will always remain close as my sister and I have. I pray they will nurture that relationship.
After camp was completely set up I wanted to go swimming. I kept trying to coax the boys into the water but they couldn't stop fishing. I swam alone far out into the lake. It was the middle of the week and there was very little boat traffic. I swam back and finally Nikolai joined me. Eventually Max would follow as well.
We ate fish that night along with the dinner we had planned. We played a game by the campfire and went to bed at dark.
The wind had begun to blow shortly before we went to bed but once we were in the tent it really kicked in. I was thankful the boys had thought to stake down the tent. It was loud as it barreled through the tent fly. Nikolai fell asleep quickly and deeply. Meanwhile Max and I tossed and turned and talked. Eventually we slept.
The next day was a repeat of the day before with the exception of one glorious canoe ride with Max and I at the helm. He finally understood rhythm and I felt blessed to be paddling with him. We were swift and quick in the water cutting through the glass quietly. It was a much needed beautiful moment with my twelve year old and I will hold close forever.
It occurred to me one day that we hadn't camped once this year and I knew that had to change. I talked it over with Max and Nikolai and decided we would go out to Prineville Reservoir. My plan was to load the canoe with camping gear, paddle to a sandy spot along the lake and camp for a night or two. So on a whim we did just that.
As we launched at the boat dock near the dam we were asked about our plans by a passing boat. I explained we really had none and they thought that was unusual but great.
Max had decided to man the front oar while I was in the rear. The canoe was heavy and Max likes to do everything in rapid fashion. Life is not fast enough for him but his paddling was too fast for me. We were zigzagging and getting nowhere fast. I enlisted Nikolai's help asking the two of them to exchange places. We were doing slightly better but I realized quickly that the main problem was both rowers were sitting backwards. I had allowed this because they complained there was not enough leg space. I could not take it anymore. I asked Nikolai to figure out how to sit the correct way and finally we were off at a good canoeing pace.
Canoeing is an art and you have to practice with patience. I have canoed with many people over the years. Big strong men like to paddle fast with maximum force. Women sometimes like to daintily place their paddle in the water and barely move any water. When it is done correctly it is beautiful to watch and experience. Rhythm is the key to canoeing. My sister and I have perfect rhythm and we glide through the water with ease. I have been molding my boys into expert canoers for eight years now. When they are alone together in the canoe they are in sync. Nikolai who is built more muscular takes the rear piloting seat while Max with his quick strokes takes the front. When I take over the rowing it throws the rhythm off immediately. Nikolai and I have an easier time regaining the proper strokes.
As we made our way down the lake, this lake that I have been visiting since I was a toddler, I was flooded with memories. This is my lake. I know this lake, each and every turn intimately. I know all of the sandy beaches, the twists and turns, where the water is colder, the most open spots for skiing, the rimrocks and their changing shapes and the best swimming holes. I look up and see the tall hill that overlooks what once was our place on the lake.
My sister was my constant companion on our visits to the lake. My Dad had loved this lake since he was young and decided to build a small cabin with two of his friends along its shores. It was our vacation spot. We would bring the boat over at the beginning of summer and leave it there until summer's end. It was the place I dug for bones under juniper trees, testing my hand at archaeology. It was the place where my sister skied and I kneeboarded. We would study the anthills that were just up from the flood plain. We caught frogs and raced them on the deck. Some were as small as bottle caps others several inches long. We endured countless sunburns in frying hot tents. We walked at night exploring the quieter side of the lake when the bats came out diving for bugs. Once a bat mistook our groups noise for the noise of bugs and dove at us tangling itself within my sister's hair before it quickly darted away. We played in the sand when we were younger and laid in it as we turned to teens. The lake saw every stage of our lives.
As we grew older our friends made their way to the lake with us. At first there were only girls but eventually the boys came along. With the boys came a whole new level of adventure. Rachelle always wanted to keep up with them and I watched and prayed a lot. One time two of our friends Todd and Jared decided to jump off some rocks, but not the ones everyone else jumps off of because those were too small. My sister agreed to join them and I drove the boat to pick them up scared to death as the fell several stories to the water.
These thousands of memories swarmed while I paddled. I first came back to Prineville to live in the lake house that my parents had purchased once we had grown out of the cabin. I walked along those shores that September filled with hope and inspiration. I never expected to stay so long.
We make camp at a small sandy shore. Our tent is placed close to the lake and on a slant. I explain to the boys that we will sleep with our legs downhill and be fine. We build our own fire pit. Then it happens, Nikolai spots a school of fish. My help is gone, they are busy putting together fishing poles and baiting the hook. Within minutes as I am still setting up sleeping bags they each have caught a fish. They caught at least ten that first day. They are each others constant companions in the summer and I secretly hope they will always remain close as my sister and I have. I pray they will nurture that relationship.
After camp was completely set up I wanted to go swimming. I kept trying to coax the boys into the water but they couldn't stop fishing. I swam alone far out into the lake. It was the middle of the week and there was very little boat traffic. I swam back and finally Nikolai joined me. Eventually Max would follow as well.
We ate fish that night along with the dinner we had planned. We played a game by the campfire and went to bed at dark.
The wind had begun to blow shortly before we went to bed but once we were in the tent it really kicked in. I was thankful the boys had thought to stake down the tent. It was loud as it barreled through the tent fly. Nikolai fell asleep quickly and deeply. Meanwhile Max and I tossed and turned and talked. Eventually we slept.
The next day was a repeat of the day before with the exception of one glorious canoe ride with Max and I at the helm. He finally understood rhythm and I felt blessed to be paddling with him. We were swift and quick in the water cutting through the glass quietly. It was a much needed beautiful moment with my twelve year old and I will hold close forever.
Sunday, August 5, 2012
Finding my passion
Before I left for Italy each night I would lay in my bed cross my arms over my chest and cross my feet. In this corpse position I would sleep the night through. Once in Italy and since my return, I toss and turn, lay on my side, wake up multiple times and rarely just rest. Was my life here dead before I left and I am finally returning to life? I think constantly while I am trying to sleep now about my dreams and ambitions and how to achieve them. Something has been awakened. I recently read a quote from Joy Harjo who followed her dreams while her family shook their heads in disgust, "It you do not answer the noise and urgency of your gifts they will turn on you. Or drag you down with their immense sadness at being abandoned." Those abandoned dreams of mine have been dragging me down with their sadness.
I do not want to set that example for my children. I want my children to be intense pursuers of their dreams. I want to be the type of Mom who doesn't squelch anything they put out there. But in order for me to do this I must pursue my own dreams with the same earnestness I will expect from their teenage and adult selves.
A close friend recently told me that he could see I had found my passion while in Italy. Up until that point I didn't know I had lost it. I am passionate about so many things on a daily basis but upon further examination I think he is right. I had lost focus on my passion. As Danielle Harris says in her blog, Oregon Pilgrim, we as a society are overwhelmed by having to make so many decisions that we forget to focus on our goals. She goes on to say that a character in a story makes decisions in order to get what they want. Therefore, if I am editing my life in order to achieve a goal I have to make decisions to get there.
That may have been where my passion has gotten lost, in the decision making. In going to Italy alone I made a very definite decision. I said to myself, if my goal is to go to Italy I can no longer wait for the perfect person to go with. I knew I had to just go.
My goal while in Italy besides site seeing was to study farming practices and hopefully bring those back to the states where I had planned on setting up my own organic self-sufficient farm where I would teach others. However, once I was in Italy my thoughts suddenly changed to what if I owned a farm here? The suggestion first came up when my friend Bernadette said, "I think you are going to buy a farm in Italy." I had the usual reaction of, "ya right." But it feels as if Italy is pulling me back and now I have to make some important decisions.
The first decision I have to make is saying yes to Italy. The more I think about it the more logical it really sounds. At first we would only spend part of the summer there and of course I would have to hire a caretaker. I am not at a point right now where I feel as if I can say no. I asked my Mom the other day what she had believed I would be doing at this point in my life. "I thought you would be living in China as a reporter, " she quickly responded. "I always wondered why you wanted to go to China and not somewhere else, " she continued. Obviously my dreams have evolved and been shaped by my life experiences and China did not happen but the key to what she said was she never expected me to be state-side. She said she was surprised I hadn't fully followed my dreams. Now as an adult raising two boys my dream is a farm in Italy. What is the next step?
I need to make a plan for how I will achieve that goal. Obviously there are many obstacles. I currently have some savings but not enough. The first goal will be to build up that savings. I have already been prepared for this by going to a Dave Ramsey class. I know I can get there.
I have my boys to consider. In a few years I would love to participate in a teacher exchange program. Maybe I will be able to find a teacher in Italy to take my place for the year. I could take my boys for that year and give them an experience that will mold and shape their lives. This would give me plenty of time to look for a farm, if I haven't bought one by then.
My job is a gift that I love. Considering leaving it any time in the near future seems crazy. The life I have in Oregon is a blessed life and fulfilling at times but it often leaves me passionless and bedraggled. The place I am currently renting has seemed to be pivotal in my lack of passion and feeling unsettled. Should I move somewhere that would be more inspiring within my area? It is always a possibility. I know when I had my own chunk of land with a large piece of dirt to concentrate on in the summer I felt a lot less restless and significantly more passionate. But the benefit of the place I rent is the price which will allow me to save faster for that dream farm in Italy.
I will say yes to Italy! I will not continue to live my life without striving towards my dream and hopefully that will translate into inspiring my children to follow their dreams. Bring on the obstacles I am ready to face them head on. After all a life without dreams is not a life at all it's a routine.
I do not want to set that example for my children. I want my children to be intense pursuers of their dreams. I want to be the type of Mom who doesn't squelch anything they put out there. But in order for me to do this I must pursue my own dreams with the same earnestness I will expect from their teenage and adult selves.
A close friend recently told me that he could see I had found my passion while in Italy. Up until that point I didn't know I had lost it. I am passionate about so many things on a daily basis but upon further examination I think he is right. I had lost focus on my passion. As Danielle Harris says in her blog, Oregon Pilgrim, we as a society are overwhelmed by having to make so many decisions that we forget to focus on our goals. She goes on to say that a character in a story makes decisions in order to get what they want. Therefore, if I am editing my life in order to achieve a goal I have to make decisions to get there.
That may have been where my passion has gotten lost, in the decision making. In going to Italy alone I made a very definite decision. I said to myself, if my goal is to go to Italy I can no longer wait for the perfect person to go with. I knew I had to just go.
My goal while in Italy besides site seeing was to study farming practices and hopefully bring those back to the states where I had planned on setting up my own organic self-sufficient farm where I would teach others. However, once I was in Italy my thoughts suddenly changed to what if I owned a farm here? The suggestion first came up when my friend Bernadette said, "I think you are going to buy a farm in Italy." I had the usual reaction of, "ya right." But it feels as if Italy is pulling me back and now I have to make some important decisions.
The first decision I have to make is saying yes to Italy. The more I think about it the more logical it really sounds. At first we would only spend part of the summer there and of course I would have to hire a caretaker. I am not at a point right now where I feel as if I can say no. I asked my Mom the other day what she had believed I would be doing at this point in my life. "I thought you would be living in China as a reporter, " she quickly responded. "I always wondered why you wanted to go to China and not somewhere else, " she continued. Obviously my dreams have evolved and been shaped by my life experiences and China did not happen but the key to what she said was she never expected me to be state-side. She said she was surprised I hadn't fully followed my dreams. Now as an adult raising two boys my dream is a farm in Italy. What is the next step?
I need to make a plan for how I will achieve that goal. Obviously there are many obstacles. I currently have some savings but not enough. The first goal will be to build up that savings. I have already been prepared for this by going to a Dave Ramsey class. I know I can get there.
I have my boys to consider. In a few years I would love to participate in a teacher exchange program. Maybe I will be able to find a teacher in Italy to take my place for the year. I could take my boys for that year and give them an experience that will mold and shape their lives. This would give me plenty of time to look for a farm, if I haven't bought one by then.
My job is a gift that I love. Considering leaving it any time in the near future seems crazy. The life I have in Oregon is a blessed life and fulfilling at times but it often leaves me passionless and bedraggled. The place I am currently renting has seemed to be pivotal in my lack of passion and feeling unsettled. Should I move somewhere that would be more inspiring within my area? It is always a possibility. I know when I had my own chunk of land with a large piece of dirt to concentrate on in the summer I felt a lot less restless and significantly more passionate. But the benefit of the place I rent is the price which will allow me to save faster for that dream farm in Italy.
I will say yes to Italy! I will not continue to live my life without striving towards my dream and hopefully that will translate into inspiring my children to follow their dreams. Bring on the obstacles I am ready to face them head on. After all a life without dreams is not a life at all it's a routine.
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