One Year in Denver

It's been a little over a year since I moved to Denver.  There is such a wide range of emotions, yet I feel as though I have so few memories to share.  Maybe I do, but they escape me at the moment. I traveled a bit, though it was mostly for work.  OK, almost entirely for work.  The last year of my life has been dedicated to work and then more work, followed by an awful lot of alone time that I like to refer to as exile. In the beginning I spent a lot of energy trying to figure out if this was a good or bad thing.  I have met a few really good people I would consider friends but in life there is change, so the lingering thought in the back of my mind is always questioning if I will be able to stay here long term or not.  It makes the rest of my life decisions a bit hard to make. But it also allows me to surrender to whatever will be. Some days I wish my career weren't a deciding factor on where I choose to plant that seed that eventually creates deep roots.

The last year has been such an adventure of self.  I have learned a lot about myself and my ability to interact with the human species in a corporate environment.  I have learned that quiet repose isn't a sentence or necessarily a bad thing. Quite the opposite. I feel like I ran around all over the country for the last several years.  It wasn't aimless or unnecessary. I don't regret any of it.  I am a lot more connected to who I am these days and more certain of what it is I really want.  I realize just how much shit I accepted in the past for the sake of being independent or giving someone too much benefit where it shouldn't have been allowed. The last year has been good to me. I now have enough.  In fact, more than enough.  Stabilization has occurred, even though I miss my family and friends a lot.  I have been here before, though. And like all changes during our lifetime (lifetimes), we react accordingly, we balance out, we adjust, we endure, we overcome and then we wait patiently for the next wave of change, whatever or wherever it may be.  My biggest lesson in this experience has been to forget everything that was, forget everything that you think will be and just live life, fully, in what is right now.

I had so many reserves when I moved here. It took 6 months to even be OK.  Even now, as beautiful as Colorado is, I am still not 100% OK.  Moving here, in some ways, really came as a surprise and went against everything I had "planned" for in my life.  But I'm glad I did it.  I have fallen in love with the space I'm in these days, and I don't mean that just in locality.  It is easier for me to take a few moments to express my gratitude. And when I look around, it doesn't take much to see what I have to be thankful for.  The sun shines brightly across a deep blue sky almost every day.  A breeze flows nicely into my 3rd floor window, the same window that is like a picture frame looking out west towards the mountains.  I never tire of seeing the mountains, or nature.  One would have to be completely dispassionate to not notice and appreciate the beauty and magical energy that exists here, although sometimes I feel as though the people here take ownership of the land, rather than acknowledging that they belong to the earth.

My first experience of Red Rocks happened at a drum circle on the night of the biggest full moon we'll see all year.  Mother Nature was in full force.  The wind was howling and blowing through the giant rocks like a powerful army of spirits rushing through. The rain poured down and the clouds hung low and heavy.  The moon peeked out just a couple of times to appease those of us who stood on the main stage with our drums.  The whole night was a magnificent display of how humans and nature belong to each other.

I have reconnected with the little girl inside that used to love riding her bike.  I went bike riding and shortly thereafter, bought a bike of my own.  My brand new cruiser sits in my living room, eagerly awaiting that first ride together.  She seems as anxious to shine as I am to show her off.

And Pickles, bless her sweet soul. Her fuzzy little paws greet me enthusiastically every afternoon when I get home.  My dog's unwavering love and loyalty have truly become one of my greatest gifts, especially during this journey of my life.  I hope that I become the person that she thinks I am.  :)

So looking back on this last year, I do have a lot to be thankful for.  The road may have started off a little rocky, with a lot of resistance on my part, but it has smoothed out.  And even though I think of where I may be next, I am content...and looking forward to the next chapter of my life.

Six Months in Denver

The leaves are changing. I have watched the little elm tree outside my office window transition from bright green leaves into a deep red orange hue. When I first arrived in Denver, the last snow fall of the spring happened. I was happy to be here to witness the gentle flakes as they fell through the sunlight. It was different, unique and altogether strange. Life looked different to me six months ago. The summer here was nice. It was never too hot to enjoy the outdoors and I could finally sleep with the windows open at night!

I have transitioned well. It only took me 6 months to feel settled, to make friends, to explore, to leave behind all of the things that didn't have a heart, that didn't serve me well. I have realized the importance of letting go, so as to embrace the good things that come when a window is opened.  And I have learned that getting to a place that feels good, often doesn't feel so good while you are on the journey, but if you’re patient and wait for the “stuff” to flush out, it begins to feel better and better every day. A clearer picture will emerge, things will start to make sense and the life you have chosen will become more of what you needed than you ever realized it would.

Meditation on Kindness

When you are in a crowd, look around at all the different people. Notice their clothes, faces, hair, sizes. Look at their gestures and movements, noticing if they are loose, stiff or free. Just take it in, without judgment, as if you were looking at a garden of people. Then see them all as energy fields, the same as you. Just energy. As you continue watching, think to yourself, “Every person here has had to live every day of their lives, just like me. They have had to get up every day, decide what to wear, face loss, success, hurt, shame, just like me. Everyone fell down while learning to walk, everyone probably felt anxious the first time they kissed, just like me. Each person has a story to tell. Some of the chapters are heroic. Some of them are about loss, some about fear, some about achievement or joy, just like my story”. Then continue to think of them as energy, conceived as an egg and sperm, just like you.

We are a moment in each person’s story, make it a story that doesn’t leave a scar.

Excerpt from "If the Buddha Dated" 

A little soul retrieval in the darnedest places...

I thought I was so ready for the weekend, until it got here. I am thankful for the mornings when I can “sleep in” (I woke up at 7 AM, couldn’t go back to sleep for the life of me!) But then what do I do with the rest of Saturday and Sunday? In the short time that I have been here, I find myself asking that question a lot. What to do, where to go, with whom. The truth is, the idea of doing something alone is lackluster. So I find myself doing mundane things when I'd rather be out exploring. Clean apartment, walk Pickles, eat lunch, rinse and repeat.  The funk needs to end soon.

And I do realize it’s all up to me. What it's going to take to give me an inspirational jolt, I haven't yet discovered.

I spent three days in Oklahoma this past week for a business trip. Having grown up in Texas, I find this kind of “research” to be kind of tedious. Nothing in the way of this lifestyle and mindset has changed much since I wore cowboy boots in the 8^th grade (Yes, I admit it). Although I will say, denim has changed a bit.

These people are good folks. They love their family, they love Jesus, their horses and livestock, they love honesty, integrity, shaking hands, simplicity, home. When I go to these events and wear the required uniform (i.e. Jeans, Boots) I reconnect with that 14-year-old girl I once was, wearing my red Justin boots, Rockies and feeding 'Big Red', the unbroken horse that kicked me, knocked me down, left a bruise on my right butt cheek and my ego hurt for weeks. The familiarity of this life is something that eludes me but at the same time I feel a sense of comfort in it all. Perhaps this is a part of my life that I need to remember. It was an innocent time for me, one of very simple and humble times and a time where the world was a big white canvas just waiting for me to paint whatever future I wanted.  In many ways, a lot of the people I meet remind me how far I have come in my life. The road behind me is very long and foggy.  This experience was a reminder that I have done pretty good thus far and I am comforted. So while I am doing a good service to the company, I am also taking notes of my own personal journey.

Now What?

I have been here in Denver for three months, so now what? That is the question I seem to ask a lot. There is a lot of quiet time to reflect on the last whirlwind year of my life. I am OK with the quiet time, I guess.

Colorado is beautiful.  I sometimes can't believe I live here.  I met my family in Durango for the 4th of July weekend. It was very nice to get away, to drive somewhere. I loved the mountains, Mesa Verde, Durango's historic downtown. I just loved being with everyone again, even in all of their chaos. I realized on the way back to Denver that I am on what seems like two separate journeys.  One of self and the other with matters of the heart and companionship.  It's amazing what a long road trip can do for your soul.

My trip back to Denver began at 4 PM and made it's way well into the night. I didn't arrive home until 11 PM. The road was silent, no radio, no cell phone. Just me and Pickles. I had a lot of time to think. And in some ways, it was a deeper conversation with myself than I usually have. Many things were said and realized in all of that silence.