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I find writing liberating. I love being able to express my feelings in phrases that cannot be interrupted by anything except my own thoughts. I love being able to delicately chose words that fit. I love having the power to backspace and re-think things before they're out there. Writing is grounding. Writing is relieving.

Yesterday, I found absolute contentment in being alone. I laid in the sun alone, I swam in the pools alone, I adventured up the mountain alone, I encountered a bear alone, again I soaked in the hot springs alone, and then I went for a bike ride alone. Somehow in all of this lone time, there was never a feeling of loneliness. Having time all to yourself, especially when it's at the top of a mountain with not a person for who knows how far, really allows for you to check in with yourself. Much like the way a team of people would debrief after completing a job, I believe that individuals mustn't forget to debrief with themselves.

It is not always that my thoughts chain together in a clean-cut composition. Today is one of those days for a coagulation of incomplete ramblings.

It's Friday night and the sun was set hours ago. I sat on the roof of our backyard shed and watched as the mountains transition from yellow to orange, then pink to red, to just a silhouette in the darkness. This got me thinking; what are people around the world doing if not atop a shed?

Somewhere in Budapest a man sips on a cold beer. Some place in the world there is an old woman gasping for her last breaths of life, about to leave her loved ones behind. In Belgium there is a man and a woman sharing a precious moment with their newborn child. In China, there is a man whose heart is so badly shattered that he can't imagine his life will ever be as good as it were. In Peru, a mother reprimands her children for disobeying her requests. In France someone is overcoming their fear of heights by jumping out of an airborne plane. In the wheat fields of Idaho a nearly-retired farmer checks the irrigation system on his crops. In Kenya, there is a group of young people sitting hand-in-hand in a circle sharing their gift of music with one another. And all over the world people are engaging in activities that the remainder of the human race is oblivious to. We are so insignificant. Yet we each posses so incredibly much power. The world is an intricate place. Not a soul will ever see all that there is to see, or know all that there is to know. There is not a person who will ever manage to fathom the breadth of the globe; the world at large.

Here is some Modest Mouse because this song title somehow made its way into my ramblings. And because Modest Mouse is a musical and lyrical genius. And because music is medicine.



Goodnight World. Thank you for another day.