precarious precipices

I'm two days overdue for this post. But like any kind of minor or major slip-up in life, time that has passed, has passed, and things done or undone can't be changed. Thankfully, I still have now, and now is wide open with possibility. Like the possibility of me taking a moment to write about my life.

I have a week off from work while the owners of the lodge are out of town at a wedding. I was hoping to do some socializing, after my last off-time being fairly quiet and solitary. Coincidentally (or consequently, depending on your opinion) I recieved not one, but three separate couchsurfing requests for this week!

The first one, Dax, is a psychobiologist from Florida who is currently doing field work near Fairbanks for 30 day stints throughout the summer. She had a few weeks off and has been exploring the Kenai Peninsula before she goes back out again. I met up with her in town and we did a little bit of touristy sightseeing, and eventually had an interesting night out, winning first prize for "craft night" at Kharacters, the only local bar that had live music on a Tuesday night. The next night we headed over to the lodge, joining my little brother, my coworker, and her sister. We did a little kayaking, played chess (someday I will actually win a game of chess), and then went out exploring for an "extreme hammocking" site. We climbed around on the rocks for a while and eventually crossed a rocky little beach over to a steep face where someone had already rigged up a rope. We got up easily and found the perfect setup--two trees, just the right spacing, right on the very edge of a cliff over the bay. After Dax retied my improvised knots, I climbed into the hammock, hanging over what I'm guessing was about 70 to 80 feet over jagged rocks and crashing surf. It was fantastic! It was such an odd contrast, the precarious nature of the setup was more than a little unnerving, but the soothing embrace of the hammock was so comforting and secure feeling. It seemed to me to be a good representation of life as a whole. Sure, it was dangerous. There was risk involved. But my experience of it all depended on what I focused my attention on. If I had concentrated on everything that could go wrong, it would've been miserable. But I didn't. I enjoyed the incredible view, the sound of the water, the feel of the sun on my face, and the growing sense of peace and relaxation as I let go and sunk down into the hammock.

Death isn't something we can escape. I'm not promoting recklessness. I'm just coming to realize that there are a lot of worthwhile risks in life that I have avoided taking. Sometimes approaching the edge a little more, and sensing and appreciating our mortality, can enrich life in a way nothing else can. I'm a sensitive enough person that I probably won't ever have to do anything much riskier than hanging a hammock over a cliff to achieve that perspective, but I do need to to something like that from time to time.

And then we got stranded. We are both experienced enough around the ocean to know that tides can change things rather quickly, but while we were enjoying the hammocks and sunshine, we lost track of time, and our little peninsula had turned into a full-blown island. Oops. Luckily it only took a couple more hours for the tide to turn again and our path to reappear. All it meant was more lounging in the lovely day, getting sap in my hair and sunburning my nose.

This has been a summer of high highs and low lows. I've made some careless mistakes. A couple I even seriously regret. But I'm experiencing life, learning some lessons I'd managed to avoid by being tediously cautious for so long, and getting to know myself better than I ever have.

Today Dax and I plan to kayak to Glacier Spit and hike up the trail there. Its a sunny, cloudless day. We'll head back to Homer tonight, and tomorrow pick up Zuphit, (couchsurfer #2) who is from Israel and has spent the past year traveling all over the world. I'm sure she'll have some great stories to tell.

Love,
Leeann