My Pursuit

How does God not get sick of us? Well, I guess He does. The whole, "Hey, Noah, build an ark" thing and then there was that Ninevah situation. I'm wondering if God would let me know if He was sick of me. Maybe if I was listening a little better.

For my whole life, I've been the person who has known God and pursued Him wholeheartedly... then something happens and I back off. Am I a back-and-forther? Maybe I don't feel like it's worth it. I know it's worth it. But do I feel like it's worth it? And does it really matter how I feel? How I feel changes. So how much weight should I put in THAT? I've gone through periods of my life where much of the time, I'm thinking about and talking with God. And it's beautiful. He blasts His truth straight to the heart of me and it brings me to tears. Sometimes it has been something simple. I remember feeling one time that He painted the skies new each day for us. What a sign of love! I know many times in my life God has spoken to me - reassuring my heart, prompting me to pray, gently correcting me.

And then bit by bit, I begin to slack off and I forget how beautiful it was to be in contact with the One who knows me best. Will I ever be someone who pursues Him regardless of her situation in life? If I choose to. And if I don't, will I be convinced that I've spent my life well?

Birthday Beautiful

Birthdays... getting old for many people has come to mean very little. We shuffle by our birthdays forgetting the significance of a life lived in the midst of challenges and of utter beauty.

A birthday should really be a compilation of everything beautiful that makes your soul sing. And this is really the first birthday that has been a celebration of the things that fill my heart. There is almost nothing better than a beautifully planned surprise on your birthday and it rang true for me this year.

I was surprised with tickets to the Lyons Folk Festival. I was super stoked to see my favorite artist, Ray LaMontagne, but I didn't really have any idea what the day had in store. When we arrived, the beauty of this location was outstanding. There was an incredible rocky cliff with meandering cracks and brilliant green ivy creeping towards the sky. A shallow river lay at the base... warm water making it's way over large riverstones. Adults floated by on innertubes and children were busy building cairns with the polished rocks.

We filled our cups with Colorado beer and found a place to enjoy the music. Simplicity... it's underrated. A guitarist and his bass player. Gentle harmonies and lines of music crafted in such a way to pull at my heart. And as I looked around I saw life happening... young families playing in the sand, a grandmother with a friend - maybe a neighbor or a sister, young and carefree couples, and everyone filled their hearts with this music. Simple.

Then a raindrop. And a few more. The rain came quickly pouring a fresh layer of water over us. It's not worth hiding or covering up. So we laid back and we let our skin feel each solitary drop. It ran down our faces and dripped off our noses and as we laughed it trickled over our teeth. We were soaked and loving it. But just as welcome as the rain was the feel of the sunshine. Beautiful heat across my shoulders. And warm arms wrapped all around me.

Later on, the sun set and the music continued. Lights cast gentle light across the cliff and across the branches of the trees behind the stage. I leaned back against the chest of my fellow music adventurist. And he rested his chin on my shoulder. As the rain began again, I felt wonderfully sheltered... not just from the oncoming storm. Thunder rolled across the sky and lightning abolished the darkness for seconds at a time. I wouldn't have picked anywhere else to be.

The river, the storm, the rain, the sun, the music. Beauty, danger, warmth, peace, beer, and the possibility of a beautiful story to come... THAT was a birthday.

Faker Bachelorette

Bachelorette parties are the best excuse to be totally nuts. It's the best. We walked around downtown Denver this weekend with my girl, Abby. We made her wear ridiculous clothes and inappropriate jewelry. And the best of all... she had to carry a giant 3-foot inflatable friend. It really is the best way to start conversation with strangers. "Could you sign my friends'... uhh... large thing?"

Anyone been to Rise in Denver? Sort of creepy but maybe it was just that kind of night. What's up with creepy dudes in that place? Get yo' nasty hands up the air! Sick dudes.

So I am offically hosting my own faker bachelorette party featuring minor debauchery and major fun. I will be the best fake bride the state has seen. Let's go to Vinyl... : )

Downhill Suicide

So, I've discovered that I am really into downhill mountain biking. In college, we always would do super long single track, which is fun too, but there is nothing like downhill - hauling ass down a ridiculous slope- jumping off of roots and dodging rocks in the trail. I'm not that great at it, but I love it. And it is really nice to be able to ride the lift to the top... lazy me.

Last week I was in Snowmass and it was my first experience at downhill so of course, I only have front suspension. I would love to see how a full suspension feels but until I can afford a new bike, there is no way I am going to ride one.

The first time down the trail, I sucked big time. I would go too fast for turns and would lock up my arms so I couldn't ride correctly. It sucked. But after a few times down, I was riding perfectly. It was so great to get through the whole trail without stopping or overshooting my turns. As I rode the lift back to the top, I was feeling pretty confident. So when the guys at the top gave me a little ego boost ("Wow. That was fast! Are you gonna race next weekend?"), I - the idiot, decide to go faster. I rode the whole trail perfectly but halfway through the whooptiewoos at the bottom, I thought I should pedal faster. I launched into the air and landed on my hip. I could feel the shock go through my bones and I felt like someone just hit me with a sandbag.

I hobbled up and rode to the bottom of the hill to get some alcohol to clean my leg. Damn it. I guess I need full gear.

But afterwards, I realized that I don't feel like I've pushed myself unless I crash. For me, crashing is just a part of riding. My buddy John never crashes, yet he still pushes himself. I don't get it. A little crashing doesn't bother me as long as I don't end up gushing blood or trying to put bone shards back inside my skin. But one day I'm going to be really good and I'm going to kick all your asses. : )

Prelude In D Flat

We've all got 'our' songs - the ones that resonate with us. The ones that remind us of who we are or perhaps what we want or where we've been. The ones that remind us of someone we knew or of a place we stood. I've certainly made my collection of songs - some joyful, some heart-wrenching, some laughable. But all of them explain me.

I sat down at the piano today and began to play one of my favorite pieces - Prelude in D flat by Chopin. His music is some of the most passionate, emotive music there is. And as I played I realized that this song explains me better than anything. The beginning is a gentle, soothing treble melody. It speaks of an incredible love. And beneath the melody there is a constant pulse that drives the melody forward. And when I play this, beautiful scenes cross through my mind. I remember sunrises and promises, smiles and devotion. The melody is complemented by beautiful rising chromatic passages and gentle chord modulations below.

And then comes the second section - minor and ominous and building and still with the constant pulse that drives the bass melody forward. It builds and builds and then comes four bars of fortissimo... strong octaves that move in fifths in the lowest registers of the piano. And suddenly it recedes back to piano. And all I can think of is compromises and tears, mistakes and wounds.

And then comes my favorite section, where my hands seem to take over the whole piano. Consonance and dissonance placed carefully together as the chords morph from one sound into the next. In my mind, I see an unfinished story and I think about chances and possibilities. The last time I played this piece, I had to stop at the end of this section. And I had a few tears (pseudo-non-emotional me... crying). Because I didn't feel like I could play the last section. It returns to the beautiful treble melody - the one that speaks of love. But as I sat down to play today, I played through the whole thing. And it was beautifully complete.

I've only played this piece for a few people. And it's those people who know me best. I don't think they realize as I've played it that I was sharing a huge piece of myself.

Of course, on another day, I might share with you a huge list of other songs...
Green Eyes - Coldplay,
Steady As We Go - Dave Matthews Band,
Tidal Wave - David Gray,
Breakin' Up - G. Love,
See The World - Gomez,
Bubble Toes - Jack Johnson,
Photograph - Jamie Cullum,
The Heart of Life - John Mayer,
Dreaming with a Broken Heart - John Mayer,
Faint - Linkin Park,
I Hear the Bells - Mike Doughty,
Forever My Friend - Ray LaMontagne,
Crystal Village - Pete Yorn,
Simplify - Ryan Shupe...

And if you've actually gotten this far in this endless blog, I'd love to know what your songs are...

How to Love Life?

So I've made a few decisions. I've decided that I won't be held down to time restraints unless it's an issue of my respect for someone else. I've decided that even though it's great to go places with friends, that if friends can't go, I will go alone. I've decided to learn and to keep on learning.
Why all this? I think I was losing my love for life. This summer has been such a refreshing breeze to me. It's been very, very sad too, of course. But I can't really go on with my life being a wreck of a person. And I can't go to sleep anymore knowing that my day was misspent. So I don't go to sleep until I've enjoyed a portion of my day.

And because of this, I witnessed a magnificent summer lightning storm just as the sun painted the sky in purple and orange. I rode a Harley. I learned how to samba. I sat by a mountain stream with my dog and let the water run through my fingers. I learned to make a mojito. I let myself take time looking at the beauty of a brillant purple thistle. I sipped on a Creamsicle martini. I let myself think. I listened... really listened to a local musician. I doused a plate of pulled pork with spicy barbeque sauce. I sat in the park and got to know some friends. I spoke Spanish. I let myself breathe a little bit.

Ice Cream in the Beer Garden

So, I just attended this motorcycle fest in downtown Colorado Springs this weekend. Motorcycles aren't really my thing. By that I mean that I do not swoon over them. I do not dream of them and I do not manufacture fantasies based around them. However, I do enjoy riding them. When you hit like 85 and you have to suck in your cheeks so they don't flap around you know it's a good time. The wind always blows the water out of my eyes even with a giganto pair of sunglasses. But I love being able to see every cloud, every mountain peak and I love hearing the rumble of the motor.

So I headed down to this grand event. There was an old guy band there. You know the type. All these guys in their early fifties with too-long hair, too-tight jeans, and a pair of rockin' 80's sunglasses. The sight wasn't so hot, but the music was great. They did all the beloved biker tunes... I guess I wouldn't really know what a biker tune is, but I assume it's things like Born to Be Wild and Livin' In America. It was ridiculously hot, so I grabbed an ice cream cone and stood watching the band. Little did I know, I was standing in the infamous BEER GARDEN - a fenced-off portion of downtown Springs where it was legal to purchase and drink beer outside. I stood for a while enjoying the day when I was approached by two gentlemen. "Well, I'd have to say that's the first ice cream cone I've seen in the Beer Garden." I looked around. Yep. I was the only one within sight that was not holding a trendy plastic cup of Coors. "True," I said, "So are you making fun of me?" "Absolutely," they replied.

I guess it must have looked pretty weird. But what we need in America is a little bit of icecream tolerance. Why must we be so disgusted with a little twist cone? You got your vanilla and your chocolate. There is no better combination. And yet, the world just isn't ready for it. It breaks my heart to think about what would have happened if I had been consuming Rocky Road.

I won't even mention Butter Pecan.