Category Archives: thoughts.

television coworkers.

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the experts say you have to write everyday. sadly, between my work writing, journal writing, letter writing, email writing, social media writing, and imessage writing, my blog writing seems to have lost its title of champion. i have a list of topics that i think of in the moment, jot down to come back to, then return to them thinking: what the heck was i planning to write about this?

this morning i was tempted to delete the whole list and start anew, vowing to always sit down and write the dang story when it pops into my head. but alas, there are some gems in the list, so i figured i’d better just pick one of the random ones for now and get on with it already.

i’ve been back in the midwest for almost two months. away from australia and catching back up with my life. of course, doing so always involves explaining what i have actually been doing down under.

it is an explanation that has led me to some startling discovers about myself. namely, my extreme need for human interaction.

i get it now. the need for companions. working in an empty house is not for me. i need others. they don’t even need to be friends. strangers in coffee shops will work. travelers rushing to catch their flights in a crowded airport hallway will work. anyone will work. i sit in my home office, alone, in the middle of a small desert mining town where everyone else is on the job 12 hours a day, leaving me to fend for myself when it comes to entertainment.

daytime television all makes sense to me now.

studio 10’s morning band of hooligans were my gang each morning as i ate breakfast and started work on my laptop in my pajamas.

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the term coworkers doesn’t mean they have to be physically in your presence right? they were working. i was working. therefore, we were coworking. and coworkers.

when you’ve reached this state in life, every character of every major television series you watch starts to be your friend. the crappiest soap opera becomes your lifeline. something you know. something comfortable. a cast of friends to keep you company while alone for endless hours.

television takes on the meaningful role of human interaction in a town desolate of places to sit with strangers. places with a proper seat, electricity, and wifi don’t really exist. so i have to work from home…everyday…all day. i am not complaining about the ability to work from home. we all want that. i love that and am very grateful. but when you have to work from home, it’s just like having to work from an office.

i have watched more television in my time in port hedland than in the past several years of my life. it is the first time i have even owned a television since 2009.

it’s crazy to me. but it makes sense to me. i am not a hermit. i like my alone time, but usually only when i am writing or painting or reading. all other moments of my life are traditionally filled with activity and people. people i know. people i don’t know. people i want to know, but don’t.

yes there are those people in the desert, don’t get me wrong. i understand that i could leave the house and seek out some faces to fill my social quota, but i do actually have to get my work done once in awhile. i can’t be going to hang out at the yacht club or ymca for hours on end soaking in one human interaction after another. i need people while i work.

and so i have developed a new gratitude for public spaces. generous clients with extra desks and spacious libraries and bustling coffee shops and random parks with wifi, you are a gift to us officeless entrepreneurs. you are the reason i stay sane. i cannot wait until you find your way to small australian desert mining towns. or i find my way back to you.

but i am also grateful for my television coworkers. their stories unfolding in an one-sided, effortless conversation as i click clack away on my keyboard. without you, i would probably do so much more with my time. yet, i am still glad you are my friends. see you in a couple weeks as i return to the summer desert heat for a couple more months of love.

perfect shantytown.

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I wrote a new blog for Portland Rock Gym:

How to build the perfect shantytown (aka long term camping set-up)

So you’ve found yourself the ultimate project and are dedicated to whatever it takes to send it. Days, weeks, months pass by, and you’re still putting in attempt after attempt to show that rock who’s boss. Meanwhile, memories of your soft bed, hot shower, and full kitchen creep in and out of your mind while refueling on Nutella and stale bagels.

Now, if you’re one of those climbers with a pimped out RV or van, fine, you might still have those luxuries tucked away in the parking lot waiting for your return, but for those of us still rocking the old Chevy Cavalier our parents hooked us up with on our 16th birthdays, you might be ready to pack it in and find the closest motel when the going gets rough.

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However, there is one way to ensure you maintain your sanity while choosing to kick it Huckleberry Finn style, and that is building the perfect shantytown (aka long term camping set-up) from day one. Here are the most important things to keep in mind when crafting your home away from home:

Location! Location! Location!

Finding the most beneficial location is the key to any successful shantytown. Once everything is set up, you are definitely going to be irked to discover that rain drains straight into your tent. Just like architects dedicate large efforts to their blueprints, you need to pre-plan and think through the setup of your shantytown. Every mistake will cost you in the long run.

Things to look for when scouting out your location:

  1. Trees: Trees are great for acting as anchor points for your structure. They also provide amazing shelter from the elements. However, try to avoid setting up under old ones that might drop branches and such on you, as well as ones with tons of birds roosting in them (for obvious reasons). You want your trees to be strong and sturdy. Endangered, fragile trees could greatly suffer from your structure, so respect the environment and choose trees that can handle it.
  2. Land: As mentioned above, you don’t want to end up sleeping in a swamp, so surveying the lay of the land is essential in choosing your location. Pick a spot that slopes at a slight angle and set up near the high point. Also, you might want to take into account where you are in relation to the sun. If you don’t appreciate waking up at sunrise, try to place your tent somewhere that remains shady until a decent hour of the day. On the flip side, if you’re in a cold location, be sure to keep your tent in the sun as long as you can.
  3. Sound: Are you the loud and rowdy group who stays up late laughing around the campfire until 2am? Are you the eager beaver group who heads to sleep early and is first to the crag at sunrise? Are you the family with two young children who get night terrors? All of these are awesome, but know which one you are and embrace it. Don’t set up next to a family if you plan to party all night. Don’t set up next to a site that has empty beer bottles everywhere if you want to go to sleep at sunset.
  4. Proximity: Take into account your surroundings and needs. Are there bathrooms available at your location? If so, consider how important it is to you to be close to them. How far are you from the crag? Do you want to be in isolation or closer to a town? Sometimes you don’t have very many options, but if you do, think about what will make your long term stay the most enjoyable.

Click here to continue reading the rest of the blog post! There’s lots more to go…

block broken.

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i haven’t written a blog post since i arrived in australia. i haven’t really written anything. i think about writing a lot. the classic syndrome of a block. i have ideas, and then they fade away before i can capture them into letters. but last night i made a list.

  1. wake up
  2. drink glass of water
  3. drink glass of cranberry juice
  4. do oak tree meditation
  5. write a blog post

and so, here i am. after adding “make a smoothie” right before #4, i am at my computer pulling faces because for some reason i decided to add way too much beet to my smoothie. and it was canned. bad decision. i have learned my lesson, but i am still going to force myself to drink it. just like i am forcing myself to write.

since i sat down at my computer 20 minutes ago, i have already delayed writing by checking emails, doing some stupid survey to get bonus southwest rapid rewards points, and googling the benefits of beets. if i have to stomach this smoothie, it better be good for me. turns out it has several benefits:

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natural viagra eh? i am just feeling slightly queasy and dry in the mouth. maybe those are part of the listed side effects.

the she & him pandora channel is providing a nice soundtrack to this aimless stint of word-smithing. but that is what they tell you to do. they always tell you to just write. no matter what comes out, just the act of writing will help end your vacation away.

i remember getting really attached to a book called writing down the bones: freeing the writer within by natalie goldberg during my freshman year of college. here was this relatively short collection of chapters that was speaking directly to me. the writer within me. i’m pretty sure everyone who likes to write has probably read the book at some point in their life.

“keep your hand moving.”

i remember reading that somewhere in those pages.

and so that is what i am doing. and while you are reading this, you should probably follow a similar bit of advice…keep the eyes moving, quickly. don’t dwell on this blog post. there is nothing profound hiding in its folds.

there is another passage from that book that i recently recalled (of course i googled it, so you can read the real version and not my paraphrased sara interpretation):

“We are important and our lives are important, magnificent really, and their details are worthy to be recorded. This is how writers must think, this is how we must sit down with pen in hand. We were here; we are human beings; this is how we lived. Let it be known, the earth passed before us. Our details are important. Otherwise, if they are not, we can drop a bomb and it doesn’t matter…Recording the details of our lives is a stance against bombs with their mass ability to kill, against too much speed and efficiency. A writer must say yes to life, to all of life: the water glasses, the Kemp’s half-and-half, the ketchup on the counter. It is not a writer’s task to say, ‘It is dumb to live in a small town or to eat in a café when you can eat macrobiotic at home.’ Our task is to say a holy yes to the real things of our life as they exist – the real truth of who we are: several pounds overweight, the gray, cold street outside, the Christmas tinsel in the showcase, the Jewish writer in the orange booth across from her blond friend who has black children. We must become writers who accept things as they are, come to love the details, and step forward with a yes on our lips so there can be no more noes in the world, noes that invalidate life and stop these details from continuing.”

i am in that small town.

and it stilled my words because i thought i had nothing more to say about it.

but truly, i have embraced the desert this time around. i looked around and found things to do.

i took life into my own hands while alone at home all day. signed up for a dinghy sailing course and afterwards joined the yacht club. i even have plans to partake in their upcoming regatta.

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headed back into the bush of karajini national park on friday the 13th under a full moon to run through gorges, swim a lap across an ice cold pool of crystal clear water, and stay up celebrating ol’ smokey brods turning 28. we even ran into a family of scary zombies…

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met up with a couple of women retraining ex-race horses. spent the evening riding three different horses with three very different personalities as the red pilabra dust filled every single pore on my body, and the sun set bright red and pink and orange into the horizon.

sat outside under an umbrella and enjoyed a sunday morning brunch with my partner in crime at the silver star cafe, an old train car turned restaurant. a staple in the port hedland dining circuit.

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cooked proper meals that surprise even me. and yes, i’ve documented almost every single on of them. you can find that on my instagram, but here’s just one:

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stretched and breathed with the only yoga teacher in town who teaches one class per week about 20 minutes away from our house. and strengthened and toned with the one quality cross-training gym in south hedland.

so why do i feel like i have nothing to say?

my task as a writer “is to say a holy yes to the real things of our life as they exist.”

i spend all day alone in my home office trying to tackle the never-ending list of projects due to clients thousands of miles away. looking out at the big, fruit-barren mango tree through my calcium coated window, i miss my coffee shops and co-working spaces.

but this is the real of now. long days of work and short bursts of play. it’s not forever. and when it does get lonely, i find solace in online shopping for proper attire for the upcoming horse races (best dressed wins $1,000) and belting out my best renditions of broadway and disney musicals while chipping away at my to-do list. defying gravity has never sounded so good.

HOLY YES!

stationary one day.

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forty-two days stationary in springtime. cherry blossom petals snowing upon stationary windshields. taking up residency in a stationary space filled with cook books, stained rugs, fresh urban eggs, and tabby cat hair upon my faded white down comforter. past rituals quickly re-emerged calming my spiraling self into stationary settlement.

forty-two days of stacked schedules layering dance on top of yoga on top of cross fit on top of climbing on top of work/trade massage on top of work/trade facials on top of work on top of friends on top of church on top of sleep on top of baths. a seemingly endless list of layers that gladly replaced the translucent wash of travel that tints my usual existence.

a pause with purpose.

i returned from australia at the end of february intentionally ready to reacquaint myself with myself. after two years of bouncing from place to place, the emotional unsettlement of drifting was creeping into my throat, coating it like a dairy-induced phlegm impossible to swallow away.

instead of allowing it to overthrow my carefully crafted balance, i gave into it. i paid more money than i would have liked to secure a house. a space to call my own for the month of april. to sort through my belongings without undesired distraction and regroup before packing it all back into a 5’x7’ cube.

as i clicked the lock closed on my downtown portland storage unit and finalized the cross-country shipment of my car back to the loving care of family members this past week, the excitement butterflies began brewing deep in between my belly and chest. that space right below the xyphoid process that seems to be a big gaping hole waiting for substance. fluttering feelings bursting out of their safe cocoons joined that irksome lump looming in my throat.

i wait for one to dissolve the other, but the excitement of nomading just stands alongside the belonging of consistent community. two contradicting ideals hovering in the same space trying to capture a unanimously desired sense of calm.

i’m pretty sure this is what your twenties are all about. swimming through the contradictions of your wavering fantasies of what life will eventually be like…one day.

one day…i’ll have a physical home with furniture that i didn’t put together myself named words i can’t pronounce.

one day…i’ll know my neighbors by name and share my sugar with them.

one day…i’ll be able to walk to the farmer’s market and smile at the same farmers week after week.

one day…but that day is not today.

it’s been four days since i wrote the above on the airplane from denver to los angeles, and after spending the weekend enjoying the company of friends who have already achieved their “one days,” i am ready to board an airplane back to my today and sacrifice tomorrow for wide open sun kissed arms with calloused hands and dirty fingernails anxiously waiting to hug me after i journey 7,162 miles down under.

the airport test.

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it’s been almost a month since i wrote. anywhere. in my journal. on this blog. the words have not been there. the ideas have, but the words seem to be enjoying a bit of a vacation as i frantically soak in my settled surrounding. i jot the ideas down on my ever-growing list of stories i want to tell. themes that seem like they need exploring within my head.

i’ve been back in portland for a month. stopping for a month to regroup before becoming unsettled once more. taking up occupancy in an old hippie woman’s hawthorne home while she travels throughout spain for a month. the space is special. lived in but open and inviting. complete with two chickens, an infinitely affectionate cat, endless shelves of cookbooks, and a robot vacuum that comes alive three times a week. it feels good.

it feels good to be back in a space where things are steady and familiar. to slip right back into routine. yoga. climbing. cross fit. office life. coffee shops. catching up with the community i spent the past two and a half years cultivating in this city.

during the stationary moments that speckle my transience, i always find myself immersed in the idea of community. surrounded by the relationships that have imprinted my twenty-seven years.

it’s interesting to watch the evolution of your friendships. see which ones stay with you. which ones drift apart. which ones flow in and out of closeness.

every time i return from an adventure, i am immediately faced with an evaluation of my relationships. the thought spiral starts with one simple question:

who do i call to come pick me up from the airport?

for most people, you only have to ask yourself this question every few months or years even. but currently, i am faced with this question at least once a month. i scroll through my phone and think about who i know that i want to inconvenience.

i have deemed this process “the airport test.”

we have all kinds of relationships and friendships, but we don’t have too many people that pass the airport test. or at least i don’t.

the simple task transcends into an overflow of questions and judgments and a pretty complicated view of your investment in those surrounding you.

it’s a weird thing how we invent the responses of others. i would pick up almost anyone from the airport. someone i met last week or someone i have known for years. case in point: i offered to drive the lady whose house i am staying in to the airport if she didn’t have a ride. yet, when i landed in portland last month, i took a cab to my car because the three people i normally rely on were working.

now i know several people in portland. many of them would have picked me up from the airport i’m sure, but from my side of things, the comfort level was not there. so instead, i paid $40. i paid $40 to a stranger because i was too uncomfortable to possibly inconvenience someone i called a friend.

this simple friendship test presents itself in several other situations. who would you call to drive you to and from chemo? who would you ask if you needed to borrow money? who would you not have to bribe to help you move? who do you not care about inconveniencing? not because you don’t care, but because you know they care. you don’t assume, you fully know.

and those are the only people i call to pick me up from the airport.

they are the same people that i cannot wait to pick up from the airport. the ones that i want to park and go all the way inside for. stand at the exit point with a big hug and smile waiting for theirs in return.

i have been accused of throwing around the terms “friend” and “best friend” and “favorite” too frequently. everyone is your “best friend” sara.

i get it.

and all it takes is one scroll through my contacts in a moment of need to remind me how grateful i am for the people in my life who pass the airport test.

dear body.

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dear body,

i am sorry for my neglect. i know you are used to a certain kind of care and activity, and the past year of travel has been pretty rough on you. thank you for allowing me to indulge all this world has to offer. i am now vowing to dedicate the next month to you. spring is about rebirth and revival, and we are going to focus on all sorts of re- this month.

sincerely,
your remorseful inhabitant

when you go away to college, everyone warns you to watch out for the “freshman fifteen.” i was lucky enough to evade the dreaded increase in pounds during those four years. i watched the bodies of people around me morph into new versions of themselves. i attributed my stagnant shape to my lack of massive alcohol consumption and obsessive nature to fill my every waking moment with physical activity of some form.

i took my changeless curves for granted. they appeared early and remained consistent for over fifteen years. an hourglass wave that was an embarrassment at age twelve but a blessing shortly after. i made my mom purchase dance leotards one size too small just to compress and hide those unsightly mounds upon my chest during ballet class, until one day, everyone else caught up. all the sudden, we became aware of our bodies.

as a dancer, i grew up engaging my body and staring at it in an entire wall of mirrors. watching its every move. bending and swaying. contracting and extending. it became something outside of myself. a tool that could be manipulated into endless expressions of emotion. every inch of my outline was committed to memory unconsciously. the slightest change never went unnoticed.

of course, there were small variations that occurred here and there. smaller this, bigger that. stronger this, weaker that. but nothing the general acquaintance would be able to pinpoint. everyone obviously knows their own body better than anyone else, but there is something more to it for a dancer. the awareness seems so potent.

despite the horror stories of eating disorders that hover around dancers, i never felt judgment from myself or those around me. the awareness was not critical. it was an acknowledgement of change. the discovery of a shifted medium. but maybe that’s because my body rarely changed.

i have never been the skinny ballerina. although tall and fit, my flesh has always wandered along snakelike, slithering back and forth, creating divots and hidden pockets of sensual white space. i have become very comfortable in the steadiness of its structure.

but the reality is that change is the only constant, and our bodies are firm reminders of this fact.

for the past year, it seems as though my body followed suit with my wandering mind. when rooted in routine, it remained rocklike. when thrown to the winding river, it became unbridled.

now, i want to preface the next section of words, with this: i know i am not fat. that ugly word to which we all subjectively assign meaning. this is not a rant where i will complain about the ten pounds i put on while traveling. it is merely a reflection on my relationship with appearance… and the effects of drinking beer.

i didn’t put on those infamous fifteen pounds associated with collegiate debauchery, but i did manage to put them on while living in australia.

inserted into a culture where a beer or two with dinner is the norm. i am not saying that that same culture does not exist in america, but amongst my circles, it is unusual.

inserted into a remote town where you can’t find at least twenty yoga studios on google within a mile of your house. or a climbing gym. or an adult/professional dance studio.

now i know that some of you are rolling your eyes at me and thinking that you can do yoga anywhere, especially as a trained yoga teacher. and yes, i could stand on my soapbox and preach to you for at least an hour about how personal practice is extremely important. how taking time to develop a daily routine that can keep you grounded no matter where your physical location brings you is essential to maintaining balance. hell, i even wrote an article about it.

i have no excuse. i am not perfect. there are so many articles about how to stay in shape while traveling because it is hard!

i indulged in the sedentary side of my situation. slowing down felt good. relaxing into something lazy felt good. letting love create imbalance felt good.

and then it didn’t.

all of the sudden, the button on my pants pursed with pain. my comfortable curves poured over their established boundaries. and for the first time in my life, i felt judgment sneak in. i stepped on the scale and was confused as the tens digit changed from its usual reading to something else. something new. something unsettling.

i wouldn’t change the way i spent my time at all. i don’t regret giving into inactive for once in my life. like when elizabeth gilbert gains weight eating heaps of delicious pasta in italy. sometimes it happens and it is more than okay.

but it made me think about my resilience to physical change. in my twenty-seven years, i have had the joy of never having to deal with drastic bodily changes. yet, i’ve always known they would come at some point. babies is a definite game changer on the horizon, and as women, we all get that. but it was shocking how much ten pounds affected me. maybe a life in front of mirrors impacted me more than i thought.

i am now craving a return to routine purely so my body remembers itself. remembers the way it arches and flexes. stretches and flows. i am a stranger in this shape. it is not time to give into something new.

so home to portland i go. a city filled with endless options to stay active. businesses and teachers that feel like family. as soon as i step off the plane, i’ll be headed to nathan’s yoga class. an easy reminder of how balanced movement makes me feel. the first step to reclaiming myself.

i don’t know.

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post-post warning: i am extremely tired after several days of travel and cannot be held accountable for the waxing (and waning) wisdom that is spewed into this blog post. i consider lack of sleep among one of the most unpredictable drugs on the planet. enjoy.

they say that the first mile is always the hardest in distance running. you are finding your pace, your breath, your rhythm. i don’t know for sure (because i’ve never been able to make it through the first mile without walking out the cramp that forms around the halfway mark), but i am finding the same is true about nomad-ing.

it’s been fifteen months since i packed up everything i own and moved it into the basement of my previous portland home (thanks to my roomies’ kindness). what started out as a three month temporary travel plan that included the holidays at home in chicago and a month long trip to india ended up being the initial mile.

we all have dreams. we sometimes get so far as to lace up our shoes, but it’s that first mile that solidifies the motion.

if i could measure the past fifteen months in miles, i’m sure i would have run at least one marathon by now.

are you starting to wonder where am i going with this running analogy? me too. i have no clue. just running with it… (sorry i had to.)

…and i can’t stop.

i’ve been back from australia for six days. in those six days, i have visited five cities in four different states and soaked in the smiles of several faces that will continue to fuel my journey.

but i am tired and the idea of my own bed, in my own house, with my own bathtub, and my own bookshelf sounds amazing. planting my feet in western australia for two months was a welcome oasis to the constant chaos of bouncing from one guest bedroom to another. i had a bed and a house and a bathtub and a bookshelf.

but now i am back in america. a return to being home-less.

there is a pamphlet that i carry with me on all my adventures called “finding a home.” one of the articles in it from the christian science monitor starts, “a small boy was being pitied because he and his family were living in a hotel. he replied, ‘oh, but we do have a home. it’s just that we haven’t anywhere to put it at the moment.’” (if you’ve seen this quotation in my other blog posts, forgive me.)

i don’t know where to put it yet.

and that is the question that seems to be on everyone’s minds.

are you moving to australia?
are you finally planting roots somewhere?
where are you going to live?
when are you going to stop traveling?

as my facebook feed piles up with news about engagements, weddings, new homes, babies, and more babies, i hear those same questions creeping up into my head. trying like mad to rip apart the safety net i have worked hard to wrap around the present moment.

i am known for not accepting “i don’t know” as an answer. several of my close friends have probably heard one of these annoying mom statements come out of my mouth more than once:

what do you mean you don’t know?
“i don’t know” isn’t an answer.
what don’t you know?

it seemed like a lazy answer, but i am beginning to realize that it can also be a protective response.

why do i want to shatter the possibilities of tomorrow’s tomorrow by answering those questions today?

are you moving to australia? i don’t know.
are you finally planting roots somewhere? i don’t know.
where are you going to live? i don’t know.
when are you going to stop traveling? i don’t know.

it’s not that i don’t care enough to give you thoughtful responses to these obvious questions, it’s that as much as the roller coaster of the unknown makes me want to punch a puppy in the face sometimes, it is also what makes life worth living.

so for now, i’ll continue in the unknown. unsure of what next week will bring. searching for a place to put my home.

35 before 35.

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as i said i would do in a previous blog post, i am posting my list of 35 things i want to do before i turn 35 (in no apparent order). it’s an interesting exercise. obviously there are way more things i want to do in the next eight years, but narrowing it down is half the fun. find me when i’m 35, and i’ll let you know how it went. so far i am getting closer to the bold ones. oh, and i got to cross off #32 thanks to my australian adventure.

11/12/15 update: crossed off some more.

  1. LEARN TO PLAY GUITAR
  2. VISIT AUNT AND COUSINS IN FRANCE
  3. LEARN TO COOK BETTER
  4. HAVE CHICKENS
  5. LEARN TO SAIL 
  6. GO SKYDIVING
  7. GO SCUBADIVING
  8. VISIT ICELAND
  9. OPEN YOGA STUDIO/TEACH YOGA TO YOUTH
  10. RETURN TO DANCE PERFORMANCE
  11. CLIMB 5.12 CONSISTENTLY
  12. OWN PROPERTY ON LAKE MICHIGAN IN MICHIGAN
  13. CLIMB AT HUECO AND EL POTRERO
  14. RETURN TO SOUTH AMERICA
  15. GET A SIX PACK
  16. PUBLISH TRAVEL WRITING
  17. WORK WITH AT-RISK YOUTH AGAIN, OUTWARD BOUND STYLE
  18. TRAVEL TO SE ASIA AND JAPAN
  19. BUY A DIFFERENT CAR
  20. HAVE MORE MONEY IN SAVINGS
  21. START IRA
  22. LEARN TO TRAD/BIG WALL CLIMB
  23. SPEND A SEASON AS A SKI BUM
  24. FIND LOVE/START A FAMILY
  25. WEAR OVERALLS WHILE PREGNANT
  26. DO CS CLASS INSTRUCTION
  27. GET 200/500 RYT YOGA CERTIFICATION
  28. MAKE OVER $80K ANNUALLY
  29. SET UP OWN PHOTOGRAPHY DARK ROOM/ART STUDIO
  30. DO MORE ENCAUSTIC PAINTING
  31. VISIT ALL 50 STATES
  32. LEARN TO DRIVE MANUAL
  33. TREK AROUND ALASKA
  34. HIKE THE PACIFIC COAST TRAIL
  35. LEARN TO SURF

thank you to do list.

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welcome to vegas. sin city. crazy shows and gambling galore. but there is another side. a quick drive and you’re at red rocks. a beautiful desert climbing destination.

and what am i doing in this beautiful desert climbing destination?

working.

taking advantage of a warm house with fast wi-fi.

this is not going to be a blog complaining about how i have to work right now. so don’t worry. this is going to be a blog about the complete opposite (or something like that).

i have spent the past six weeks in two amazing climbing areas with limited, if any, access to good wi-fi and cell service. although there were a few instances where i’m sure my clients wished they could contact me without scheduling an appointment, but for the most part, i was able to make it work. i was able to do work in the mornings and nights and climb during the day. i was able to head into town twice a week and crank out some solid hours of graphic design-ing, wordpress-ing, e-newsletter-ing, and social media-ing.

and i am grateful.

it is almost thanksgiving so i won’t steal the thunder of the holiday by writing about all the things i was thankful for this year quite yet, but i am feeling appreciative.

for the past three days, i have been sitting in an uncomfortable, wooden kitchen table chair with no cushion staring at my computer screen. i have woken up and said goodbye to colby as he heads out to climb for the day. i have rewritten my to do list with my pilot g-2 0.38 black pen on a piece of clean, crisp, white computer paper.

there are sixteen clients on the list, and i am grateful for every single one of them.

over the past three years, my life has evolved in a way that i could never have predicted. if you asked me in college what i would be doing after graduation, i probably would have answered – with pure hope in my voice – journalist. i would not have answered traveling around the world as i please while managing online marketing for sixteen wonderful clients all by myself.

now we all know that being self-employed has its pros and cons like anything, but i am glad that i have a support network and clients that allow me to take advantage of the pros. it is great to be able to have them start every conference call with a “where the heck are you today sara?” and not have them care when i answer india. i guess if the work is getting done…

and so, the work needs to get done.

and so, i am currently grounded. no climbing for me in red rocks this time (or very minimal).

‘tis the season for year end appeals and new websites. not to mention the launch of this great new video game from the creator of madden football. and then, not even a chance to breathe before holiday cards and annual report designs start finding their way to the to do list.

but i love it. and i am grateful that i have the discipline to stare at my computer endlessly for three days straight when the weather is gorgeous and rocks await just minutes away.

but they will always be there.

and my clients might not be.

so this is a thank you to all that make it possible for me to do what i do.
to the internet and apple products.
to my accountant (my amazing sister) and my human direct deposit (my loving father).
to my tagline mega mind (my creative brother) and my biggest cheerleader (my optimistic mother).
to mark zuckerberg and matt mullenweg.
to at&t personal hotspot and skype.
to laid back clients and loose deadlines.
to organized clients and firm deadlines.
to word of mouth and two degrees of separation.
to ovaltine chocolate milk and breyer’s chocolate chip ice cream.

thank you.

so, you might now be wondering why i am writing this blog. the answer is yes. i am totally procrastinating. i am staring at my to do list with tired eyes and a mild headache and trying to figure out every possible thing that i can do in order to put off the big projects looming ahead of me for another thirty minutes or so.

so another thank you to everyone who is reading this blog. you are contributing to my ability to live this saradipitous life.

i am just passing time.

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it is in those moments of stillness that the adventurer’s mind begins to unsettle.

i have been back at home in the midwest since august 24th. so going on four weeks. it has been jam-packed with a wedding, family labor day vacation, theatre production, non-profit fundraiser, high school dance team kick-a-thon, housewarming potluck, and of course the interspersed coffee dates with those who manage to catch me.

but now the waters have calmed, and i am left with routine. but routine in a place that is no longer my city. it is not a routine i can slip into. yoga, climbing, and townshend’s on repeat. it is someone else’s routine.

i am car-less and hanging out with my madre in her farm house in the middle of the beautiful cornfields of huntley, illinois. i am an hour from my chicago friends. i am an hour from my saint charles friends. i am an hour from my dad’s house. i am an hour from my sister’s house. (not that it’s relevant, but i feel bad leaving him out…i am five hours from my brother’s house.)

but being cut off is good sometimes.

after a 70-hour week of planning and facilitating and designing and executing a $100k fundraiser, i am playing catch up for my other clients. so being grounded to any ounce of routine is good.

but being grounded makes you want to be ungrounded.

all day as i stare at my computer and plow through my to do list, my mind tries to figure out what the next chapter holds. i know one thing.

thursday i fly into salt lake city and then head to maple canyon with colby.

i have not climbed the entire time i have been home. i have actually done very little minus some yoga here and there. and yet, i am about to throw myself into two months of climbing rocks. vagabonding from utah to kentucky. and then back to portland via vegas? (that part is still open to edits.)

when you are living the plans, they seem fine. you don’t worry. you feel settled in your adventurous ways. living in the now is easy because your now is pretty awesome.

but when you are in the moments in between…

when you stare at your computer counting down the days until you will be staring at cobblestone instead, it is hard to live in the now. to stay focused on the ever-growing collection of tasks in black ink on that white piece of computer paper.

but you know that if you stay focused now, you will have less to do then…

maybe.

i am just passing time.