Hike to Wallace Falls

B. and I took the dogs to Wallace Falls yesterday. We checked in to our little cabin, which luckily allowed dogs and then hiked up past the lower and middle falls to the high point of the upper falls--a 1,200 foot gain in elevation. It was almost three miles to the top, but the view from the middle fall area was the most spectacular. Overall, it was a good hike--just the right level, leaving all four of us very tired when we got back to "camp". We had a delicious dinner of soup and "stove top" turkey and cheese sandwiches. The bed in the cabin was much more comfortable than staying in a tent, but I still managed to wake up with a sore back.

We decided to come back home today, longing for a hot shower and lots of soap. At the last minute we decided to stop at the lake on the way home, and I did a good 1/2 mile swim or more, so am very tired. I'll post pictures of the trip in a bit. It does wonders for me to go somewhere and do something physical after module. Plus, it seemed like it had been ages since B. and I were able to go on an overnight trip. It definitely felt rejuvenating!

Lilies

I have been thinking
about living
like the lilies
that blow in the fields.

They rise and fall
in the wedge of the wind,
and have no shelter
from the tongues of the cattle,

ad have no closets or cupboards,
and have no legs.
Still I would like to be
as wonderful

as that old idea.
But if I were a lily
I think I would wait all day
for the green face

of the hummingbird
to touch me.
What I mean is,
could I forget myself

even in those feathery fields?
When van Gogh
preached to the poor
of course he wanted to save someone--

most of all himself.
He wasn't a lily,
and wandering through the bright fields
only gave him more ideas

it would take his life to solve.
I think I will always be lonely
in this world, where the cattle
graze like a black and white river--

where the ravishing lilies
melt, without protest, on their tongues--
where the hummingbird, whenever there is a fuss,
just rises and floats away.

~Mary Oliver

Walking on the moon

" Keep it up... We could be walking on the moon."
~Sting

"Walking On The Moon"

Giant steps are what you take
Walking on the moon
I hope my legs don't break
Walking on the moon

We could walk forever
Walking on the moon
We could live together

Walking on, walking on the moon
Walking back from your house
Walking on the moon

Walking back from your house
Walking on the moon

Feet they hardly touch the ground
Walking on the moon

My feet don't hardly make no sound
Walking on, walking on the moon
Some may say, I'm wishing my days away
No way

And if it's the price I pay
Some say
Tomorrow's another day
You stay
I may as well play

Giant steps are what you take
Walking on the moon
I hope my legs don't break
Walking on the moon

We could walk forever
Walking on the moon
We could be together
Walking on, walking on the moon

Some may say
I'm wishing my days away
No way
And if it's the price I pay
Some say
Tomorrow's another day
You stay
I may as well play

Keep it up, keep it up

New and Seleced Poems by Mary Oliver

B. bought me this book of poems when he did the STP race last year. We stayed the Sunday (?) after the race and then spent the next day at the Chinese Garden and walking around Portland.

I love the town; it is like Seattle used to be, before it was pretentious. I almost moved there in 2000-2001 to teach Japanese (of all things). I wonder what my life would have been like had I moved then?
~~~~~~~~~

I love May Oliver.

For a poet, I feel she has talent that is rare these days. What most affected me is that B. bought me this book, because he knew I liked Mary Oliver--and for no other reason.

I once wrote about one of my all-time favorite poems, Wild Geese, on the blog before we were in a committed relationship. I don't know if he knew that the poem made me think of him.

What I love about B.-and what simultaneously frustrates the hell out of me-- is that he does not fixate on words; action is more important.

Where does that leave me? How can language and words have more weight than what's before me? Where did everything become so black and white for me?

One of my favorite--and most challenging--professors says that people who have early-life trauma can be overly influenced by language. I know that I am. But, I'm also a writer. Each word means something very specific to me. Each word has a nuance, a meaning, and a particular connotation.

One of my closest friends--though I have not seen her in forever-- is a writer. One day she said to me, having never read my poems, that she knows why I'm a poet--that I notice the smallest details. She loves to write--and actually writes a hundred times more than what I have done in the last ten years, but the writing she loves is ...fiction. Not poetry.

I have written so little personal material lately. And B.'s endeavours have inspired me to write--for real-- for the first time in more than a decade. But I'm still not really writing. Sure, I've had to write a ton of papers. And, I have done a number of work projects. But, for me, that is easy. It's interesting, the most personal papers are the hardest for me. If it's just something academic--or just something for business (If I am removed), I could almost do it in my sleep. It's a million years removed from therapy, where to be successful, I need to bring Msyelfsyelf.

wn views on the world--are more of a challenge for me. Sometimes I think, thank God that I did not go to Seattle U. or UW, which both have very strong psych. programs. They would not challenge me at all--nor would they help me really form as an individual or confront my values and place in this world.

I am grateful to be exactly where I am.

How did that happen?

I actually have done many things since the beginning of August, but have really been running from one thing to another: clinical theory paper (and needed recovery), Pro-Sem, internship.

Honestly, I was not thrilled about writing my paper, but something happened after I turned it in. I have felt a real shift in working with my clients. I believe this shift comes from visualizing the type of therapist I want to be.

I have been more relaxed, have brought more of myself into sessions, and have taken more risks. I have spent less time thinking about whether or not what I'm doing is"right" and more time following my intuition. I have allowed myself to be who I am--to use humor, to disclose when it's appropriate, and to bring more of my humanity to sessions.

In short, I have been trusting myself more--and I am absolutely amazed the difference it has made for myself and for my clients. In the last few weeks, I've also been working on one of the toughest personal cases I've ever had. My recent confidence and bringing myself more fully has helped me through it.

So, my internship has been a little crazy lately--and now there's the multiple choice exam to study for, papers to review, and other ways in which I need to prepare for module. But, overall, I'm in a very good place right now. I just need to convince myself that I am going to be happy and healthy going into module--and spend as much time as possible cuddling with the dogs before school starts.

On the water

Yesterday B. and I took a break and went kayaking. It was a great upper body workout, as we paddled from the Aqua Verde Paddle Club on Lake Union to the Ballard Locks and back. It took about 3 hours to cover the almost 9 miles. It was such a beautiful day--and just made me want a kayak of my own even more. We saw some paddlers that were going out to the Sound and several beautiful sail boats. I guess a girl can dream...

Anyway, it was a wonderful afternoon. We stopped afterwards for some fish tacos and a couple of margaritas and happened to catch the sun setting over the water.