falling farther from the turnip tree: 128.

{well Portland, Oregon and a Slo Gin Fizz, if that ain’t love then tell me what is}

I’ve been on an adventure for about four days now give or take the east coast to west coast time difference. It got off to a strong start in Seattle, equipped with old friends, new friends, an unfamiliar cityscape, thirtysomeodd hours of wakefulness, and an all too hefty amount of cutting loose. I left Seattle for Portland with a renewed sense of my ability to be young, irresponsible, and believe it or not…just have some fun. It was invigorating, refreshing, and tiring as hell.

In Portland I was greeted again by the warmth of an old friend’s home, stories that attempted to fill in the narrative of our six years apart, her familiar kittens from a long time back, and a city that reminded me of many I’ve already had opportunities to grow fond of. It’s a small town sort of place that welcomes strangers with strong cups of coffee and happy hours for days.

Both of these cities reminded me of how small our worlds begin to seem after a while of living too comfortably, and freed me from the claustrophobia that comfort somehow cultivates in me.

Part of what I love about traveling to unfamiliar places is talking to strangers. I have this tendency to disregard all of what my mama taught me as a kid and engage with complete strangers about all sorts of things. Usually, cutting to the chase, I ask questions that lead into conversations about big stuff that we humans never quite get a handle on. Over the past few days this has led me to some pretty remarkable talks on vulnerability, giving ourselves over to chance, taking risks, and patience. Particularly that sort of patience that allows us to give other folks (and ourselves) the time to become…become vulnerable, scared, nervous humans just like us. It’s been refreshing to be reminded that so many people are working through similar cycles of questions that are all centered around human relationships and our relationships to the communities we live in.

Early this morning I set out for the great wide open of nothing I could’ve ever thought to imagine. Heading southbound (typical) on the 101 offered me the privilege of inhaling brand new scenes that reminded me of my insignificance….something that I am generally glad to be reminded of.

I have never, nope not ever, in my whole little life, seen more beautiful landscape. Part of this journey for me has meant my being disconnected (oh the irony blogosphere) from all that is insta about our 21^st century lives. I have drawn many “postagrams,” written handfuls of letters, sent postcards from cafes and beaches, and spent a lot of time journaling when the thoughts strike me. Disconnecting from technology, for me, generally means reconnecting with ye olde self. I've been learning that when you drive down the Oregon coast you don’t have much of a choice in the matter though. Words fail most times to describe the beauty of the world that is etched out over years of wear and tear and existence before and beyond us. This beautiful world of ours has withstood lifetimes, and the boulders and bluffs and mountains jutting out of the Pacific speak to the beauty that that special sort of strength inhabits. Here are some photos because my words, much like these snapshots, fail to capture their magnificent wisdom. They’ve seen so many days –terrible, terrifying, glorious – and are here silently telling a story of survival.