i am a contradiction.

a pillar of thought and creativity stands in the kitchen,

a homemade hammock hangs from the beams. 

(strategically placed directly in front of the television, 

testifying that we do not often sit and stare at that box.) 

an "exposure tally" keeps track of the sleeping outside

competition...

a basket continually overflowing with local fresh produce,

Nutella always on the shelf

a guitar sits patiently next to the woodstove,

with "the music bag" just in front waiting for some creative hands...

dance parties in the kitchen,

read aloud time at night..

this is home. 

this i love. 

anything i say about this semester will be an understatement. any adjective i attempt to attach to it to describe its greatness will prove insufficient. i feel like a spoiled little child, so much so that it hurts. i love this community of people more than words can say. after dreaming, praying, and thinking about living in an intentional community for years, i am finally experiencing it. i am experiencing and learning why it is challenging and so easily idealized. (which is the one thing i wanted so desperately to learn.) i am learning much about myself, my tendencies, my habits and how i communicate with others. i am learning about perception of others. i am learning what it means to have such an intentional and integrated life. (meaning, these people that i live with - not only are we in the same classes every day, but we're also in the same class of learning how to live together. we learn in our loft together as we discuss John Dewey's theories of education and how to best educate the world, but we also are constantly learning as we have house meetings and discuss problems, as we decide whose responsibility it is to pick up the CSA share or who started the dishwasher at 11pm and hindered some sleeping habits of those below. (definitely my fault) this house is our classroom; this world is our classroom...) i digress. 

this semester has been such a collision of all of my most favorite things. so many things i am passionate about are shaping my daily life and it is way too good to be true: adventure, food  (sustainable purchases!), intentional community, cultivating a home, making music...one of the most striking things to me however, is this contrast between the first month of this semester that was spent wandering through the Sierra Nevadas, and now - this daily life we spend in this mansion in Rockport, Massachusetts living intentionally together in the same place and learning as much as we can about each other, the world, and our futures as outdoor educators. 

i'm realizing something about myself this semester: i thrive on adventure. i thrive on novelty and new experiences. this is partially why i loved backpacking in the sierras so much - it was new and exciting, somewhat risky and dangerous, but way too wonderful to pass up. i love going on adventures and exploring. i love trying new things. 

but at the very same time, with the same exact passion, i crave stability and sameness. 

i long for roots and familiarity in the sense of living in one place and knowing your neighbors, in the sense of being in a place long enough to impact it. (a very long time.) (this desire for home definitely snuck with me on our backpacking trip as every night when we would reach our destination i would treat it like home, (and call it home) and on the rare occasion that we spent two nights in one location - well, that was a super home.)

this semester has granted me the opportunity to explore both of those passions so thoroughly and tangibly; still i love both. 

so i am wondering how to live a life that holds both of these ideas in healthy tension. i'm not sure if it's possible - and sometimes i am not even sure why i am studying outdoor education if this is the case, but i'm enjoying the journey and learning so much that i am not concerned with the destination at this point. sometimes the journey is most important. (a lot of times we get so caught up with the destination that we miss the journey.) 

so until i figure this out, or until God points me in a clear direction and reveals to me how he wants to use all of these (seemingly) contradicting passions, i'll keep learning and seeking to live hospitably in each new adventure. i want to live in such a way that makes others feel at home. i want to host the thoughts and perspectives of those around me well, to be a presence that welcomes others to be who they are, not who they think i want them to be. i want to live in a way that tells others that they belong.

"Stability is a commitment to trust God not in an ideal world, but in the battered and bruised world we know. If real life with God can happen anywhere at all, then it can happen here among the people whose troubles are already evident to us." 

Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove in The Wisdom of Stability

somanythoughts. 

in other news, it's a rainy thursday. 

tonight i am going to a concert in boston. (finally! listening to live music again! i've been longing to go to a show for quite some time.) tomorrow tricia, sam and i are escaping to the white mountains for a quick over night hiking excursion and then returning in time saturday evening for Raf's 21st birthday dance party. life is good, friends. life is way too good. 

finally, these 3 books i recommend:

The Wilderness World of John Muir

The Wisdom of Stability: Rooting Faith in a Mobile Culture 

The Phantom Tollboth 

readthemreadthemreadthem !

i like the ocean best in the fall.

Like the grey ocean nestled between the shorelines vacant and calm, yet overflowing...

so my heart lies mysteriously within my chest, dangerously full and yet not a crashing wave of warning.

I have way too much to say, 

and nothing at all. 

Until I can gather my own thoughts - check this out! 

Food has never tasted so good.

people miss things.

i am sitting here watching the fog roll in, my eyes constantly wandering from my blank word document to the sea. ten minutes ago i could see the lighthouses sitting side by side on the ocean, now they are enveloped in a mysterious cloud of grey. beside me nate is teaching sam guitar; i am thankful that so many people in this house are musical. kerry clicks away at her computer and hannah sits in the loft watching a show, i know this because occasionally she laughs out loud for no apparent reason. : ) living with people in a house is great; it feels too good to be true. for so long i have dreamed, talked, prayed, and thought about living in a house with others, experiencing intentional community - and finally the desires of my heart are being fulfilled. this journey is overwhelmingly rich.



it's hard to know how to begin explaining the past month of my life. it seems far easier to tell you about today, or to describe to you the people i now live with, or paint a picture of the sunrises that i can see over the ocean from where i sleep...

biking. it is my new mode of transportation and i am absolutely in love with it. for the past two years i have idealized the thought of not having a car and being forced to ride my bike every where i want to go. this semester, i do not have my car. for the past month my mode of transportation has been my feet - i spent the past three weeks walking everywhere i needed to go, walking nearly 150 miles, and now riding in a car just seems strange and way too easy. it's not rewarding. riding my bike with the slightly flat tires, squeaky breaks and finicky gears that sometimes jump off the teeth of the crank without any warning however, is very rewarding.

today we did not have class because it rained. (i love my life.) by late afternoon however, i grew restless of not doing anything. homework nearly done and no commitments in sight, i longed to go somewhere i had never been before. (the nomad lifestyle still rears its head now and then.) sam suggested that we bike to gloucester and explore. i agreed. after packing some quick adventure snacks and throwing on my play clothes, we grabbed hannah and set off into the grey late afternoon. the sky looked like rain but the craving for adventure beat out the fear of getting soaked. we pedaled fast and 4ish miles later found ourselves on main street where we wandered in and out of stores and finally settled in a coffee shop, a place i had never been, hurray! as we biked home the salty ocean air washed over my face and i looked at the sky and hoped for rain.

so many things i love about living in this house with these people: i love watching everyone bustling around in the kitchen making food for one another, i love seeing a slack line set up in the backyard, i love community dinners and how they happen 4 times a week, i love that music is played (and taught) nearly everyday, i love that we can see the ocean from our porch, i love that grocery shopping days feel like Christmas, i love that we take turns making meals for each other, i love that we have a CSA share...

i do want to attempt to explain the trip i returned from in the sierras, i do want to try to put words and pictures to that experience - but it seems to be a terrifying and overwhelming task. i would like much better to discuss it over coffee or tea, but the purpose of this blog is to fill in those gaps because i cannot do that with most of you who read this - so i will do my best. for now i will include a little snippet that i wrote on the last day of trip.




People miss things.

    on trip hannah missed her family, sam craved a burger with avocado, and kerry missed new zealand.

    on trip i constantly misplaced things: my multi-tool, my aquamira, my chapstick...but i realized driving out today, looking at those mountains for the last time, that there were few things that i sincerely missed while on trip. i mean i missed talking with my family and getting letters from my grandfather...but other than that i was extremely content. i wondered why i did not miss more things, or even more people... i wondered what it meant to miss things, places, people.

    i think the answer lies in trust, in learning that God always provides for us in the communities that we find ourselves. he might not provide for us in the way we think we deserve, or the ways we desire, but he provides for us nonetheless, and it is always enough. (more than enough.) and i think learning this more and more stifles the feeling of nostalgia in real ways, opens us up to be present and fully invested where we are. i was so nervous to enter into this new community of people and yet as always, God provided far more than i could have begun to ask for...he provided encouragement and laughter, difficult conversations that deepened communication skills, challenging insight and so much more that words would only tarnish.

   nate mori was right, long wilderness trips make you realize and question things. he said it well this morning at our final debrief: ' people matter, food and water matter, every thing else is a privilege...' somehow i want to figure out how to live a life that says that people are the most important.

     i feel like this trip will be changing me for a long time. this trip ought to be changing me for a long time.

no(t)mad(e)

i am not made to be a nomad.

two weeks ago i lived in lancaster,
this past week i lived in lake clear, new york.
last night i lived in wenham, massachusetts,
on tuesday i begin living in northern california,
wandering through the john muir trail,
sleeping wherever our hearts choose. 
(after that i'll live in rockport, then lancaster, then wenham...) 


like the avocados struggling to survive in my (temporary) window sill,
my heart is trying to grow roots. 




after a really solid week in new york our little adventure family returned to gordon for a few days before beginning our trip together in california. it's weird coming back to a place that you call home and feeling like you don't belong. new people live in the rooms i called my own. the friends that made this place home are not here. (they too are exploring the world.) hurricane irene forced us to be indoors, but since i had no room to call my cozy hide-away - i spent the day running from building to building, trying not to let the gordon police see me. (only once they caught me and made me ride in their dark car decked out with flashing lights. "you have to stay inside, " they said "you're not allowed to leave the buildings..." i don't think they understood that i was an "off campus" student so i did not have a key to get into any dorm) i felt so trapped. so stifled. so lonely. after a week of living in really close community with people, suddenly finding myself without a bed or place to stay was frightening.

so i've been moving from dorm to dorm, mooching off of people and passing time any way i can.  last night i found myself in dexter house and as i sat there and had food placed before me, i was humbled. so often i am the one offering food to others and it was so good to learn to accept hospitality as well. and i remembered something God began teaching me this summer, that we cannot sincerely love others until we know what it means to be loved, we cannot genuinely give food (spiritual or physical) to others until we know what it means to be hungry, we cannot properly offer hospitality to others until we know what it means to be homeless... and though this is a super small scale example, these few days of waiting for our trip have reminded me of what it means to be in need, to be at the mercy of those around you. i think this whole semester is going to be a really humbling journey.



i feel as though i am standing on the edge of something vast and dark; i am tip-toeing off the edge of it and i have no idea what is to come, but i am fairly certain that i will not be able to return to this same (and sane) safe little ledge. in four months i will not be the person that i am right now. i know i need to be changed. i know i need to learn and grow and experience new things.


this past week was a good taste of what is to come:

we learned how to tie knots and set up the tarps that will be our humble homes for the next three weeks.
we practiced lighting stoves and collected our gear.
we shared hopes and fears and goals.
we made a lot of food together.
we ate way too much ice cream. (the motto: "everything you eat now will keep you warm later." haha)
we wore sweatshirts and listened to good music.
we played banana grams.  (i am determined to get better at word games.)
we went canoeing. (nate and i may have tipped our canoe... on a lake, no current, no reason to tip.)
we practiced gunnel hopping! (and i have some super crazy bruises because of it.)
we danced.


already i am so very glad that this semester is going to be unlike any other semester i have experienced thus far. i am glad that the learning will be so tangible and practical, so hands on. i am glad that my heart's desire to know what it means to live in intentional community will finally be fulfilled. i am glad that we get to make our own food. our team is quite the eclectic group but even for that i am excited - we have so much to learn from each other. we all bring with us such different ideas, such contrasting backgrounds and varying values. already i have been so encouraged by such honest and vulnerable conversations. everyone is so great and i cannot wait to live with them for the next four months. (ok, i might not still be this excited after we spend every minute together for the next 25 days buuuuut, a girl can dream.)



so tuesday morning at 5am we fly out to california and i cannot even begin to imagine what the next month will hold. i'm hoping snow and grizzly bears are not in the cards but we shall see. your thoughts and prayers are so welcomed and appreciated. hopefully next time i update this i wil be a 21 year old certified outdoor educator.

until then...
may your days be filled with rhythms of rest, gratitude, and joy,
may you explore and love the places that you find yourselves in.




with a heart so full,
ashley

adventure is on the horizon.

summer is quickly coming to a close. last week i sat outside on duke street and talked with my dear friend hannah about this fact as i sipped iced coffee. (i do not even like coffee, but it's cheaper than tea at square one and so for the past three weeks or so, i have ordered it every time i meet up with  hannah. drinking iced coffee seems like a good thing to do in the summer, specifically when sitting outside on steps watching traffic and discussing the deepest parts of life.) 

 hannah said she wanted summer's end to feel like dying in your sleep... natural and easy, pain-free. i've been thinking about it a lot. normally the transition from home to school is not entirely pain free. a dull ache creeps up on me and often hinders the joyful anticipation i have for the next place. this transitory life is not without tension. 

i am hopeful however, that the dull ache will be different this time. hopeful that the ache will not be so much of a nostalgic longing to return to all that this summer has been, but instead a dull ache of gratitude, an ache that appears because life has been so rich and satisfying and i do not want to brush it off in a couple sentence response to the inevitable question: "how was your summer?!" for it has been rich, my friends. the days overflow with (at times unbearable) beauty. 

if this summer's end is indeed comparable to dying in your sleep, then i think my breath is slowing and my eyes are growing heavy... and it feels just fine. it feels natural. something else is coming and i know that it is good. this preparation however, has not been without resistance and difficulty. allowing my eyes to close and my breath to slow has been a lesson in trust. 

on saturday i set out for a new adventure. for the entire semester i will be studying outdoor education. the thought of doing experiential, tangible learning for the next four months brings me great joy. the first part of the trip will be spent backpacking in northern california. for this i am both thrilled and terrified, but i am finding that is exactly where God requires us to be so that we can grow and learn and thrive in ways we never thought possible.

the (rather terrifying) cry of my heart as of late has been to learn to depend fully on God, to trust him wholly. he is teaching me this in ways that i did not expect, in ways that i often (shamefully) complain about. physically i have been wrestling with  knee pain along with a bizarre leg infection that has hindered my walking. emotionally i have been challenged as i found out that the one girl i knew doing this semester with me is no longer going. it seems as though slowly God is stripping me of everything that i am clinging to that is not him. he is the only one who can provide me with the strength physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually, for the long journey ahead.

not only that, but God is reminding me that he calls us to the places that we are (and the places we are going.)...and that he fully equips us with everything that we need to not just survive in that place, but to thrive and grow and become the people he intends for us to be. he equips us with what we need to love and be loved, to give and receive, to learn and ask questions ...

and along with the reminders, he's encouraging me with emails of solidarity, cards in the mail, and text books that teach about backcountry baking, woohoo! slowly my fears are melting into some sort of trust and excitement for whatever lies ahead.

and it's funny, because this summer i set out to memorize psalm 25, and though i have not quite accomplished that goal (yet...) the very first verse is perhaps the one i need most.

'To you oh Lord i lift up my soul,

in you i trust oh my God.' 

God is good. 

so here's to the natural death of summer, to summer drifting off peacefully in sleep. 

here's to my summer eyes closing so that they can be opened to all that autumn has in store. 

my heart is an overgrown forest.

"it smells like toads," she said - slightly out of breath in her jean capris and green tank top. she wanted to go on a run with me - i was hesitant to agree, but with some frustration, i did. her little feet slapped the pavement beside me, her large headphones bouncing around on her tiny blonde head. i noticed how much larger my strides were- her little feet had to work hard. she was a champ. (though maybe i didn't want to admit it.) she completed the Grubb Lake mile with hardly any walking. i failed to do that until last year.

i have a little shadow, a shadow i always forget about. she waits in the yard next to ours, waits for my little red car to pull in the driveway.  sometimes she races over only to find out that the car belongs to andy. (or so i am told.) after a long day of work i pull in the driveway, anxiously anticipating silence, food, a run and some rest. my soul longs to be free from babysitting, to not look after children (until the next morning...) but just as i turn to roll up my window a little smiling (though perhaps a tad sheepishly)  face appears just inches from mine. she wants to play. she shows me her tennis racket. (i told her the day before that she could not come play tennis with me because i didn't have an extra racket for her...) i tell her that although i do not have to babysit again, i do need to go on a run. (thinking for sure the alibi is enough to explain to her that i am too busy...) i walk inside saying, "maybe tomorrow..." (feeling a tad bit guilty for refusing her again, dangit.) i settled down to check the blog i am keeping with friends and soon i hear a gentle knock on the door. standing to my right smiling is my little Lexi shadow holding her chucks in small hands. i open the door hesitantly. (and with a sigh, if i am honest.) "i can go running with you! i ran 3 miles before!" she says with far too much excitement for me to handle. i try to convince her otherwise, try to make the hills at Grubb Lake sound menacing...i have no success. soon enough we are both jogging down the road towards Grubb Lake.

a child's admiration is a difficult thing for me to hold. maybe it's pride and selfishness, but sometimes it makes me feel so trapped. this little shadow often shoots guilt through my veins. if i did not spend all day (most days) with people half my age, perhaps i would have more energy (and desire) to invest in her - but alas, normally an almost ten year old is one of the last people i want to spend time with. but what if this is my last summer home for quite some time? what if i am supposed to be spending more time with her? what if she is here to teach me more about love, patience, and sacrifice?



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we passed this sign while hiking in colorado. i forgot that forest need to be thinned out in order for everything to grow properly.

my heart is an overgrown forest.
it needs a fire not every 50 years, but every day. a multitude of weeds eat up sunlight in my soul. that which is good and beautiful is choked out.  the cactus of 'what does everyone think of me' is running rampant. the thistles of what the future holds trip my feet while the dandelions of pride and selfishness keep me from loving others. (keep me from loving little shadows next door.) i need God to burn away everything that is choking him out, everything that is keeping me from loving everything within the ecosystem that i find myself.

colorado rocks.

hello friends,

i am spending the week in colorado with my family and it has been ever so wonderful thus far. we are filling the days with hiking and exploring, two of my most favorite things. i do not want to waste this precious time out west updating this blog but i thought i would just give you the smallest of tastes. hopefully when i return i will have thoughts to match the size of these mountains... (haha)

today we hiked through eldorado canyon and as i lifted weary feet and sore knees up and down the trail my mind played and replayed this song by sufjan stevens. when i saw sufjan play in october he said that this song was inspired by the times he stands on things so vast and great and incredible that he does not know what to do. the inspiration for the song came from those breath-taking moments when you realize just how big (oh how small that word is!) the world is and how tiny tiny, microscopic we are in the grand scheme of things. this is how colorado makes me feel, small. on the way down i asked my mom if she thought maybe people out west would be less prideful because they are constantly being reminded of how small they are. (haha...) we discussed it but reached no solid conclusion. maybe i will do a behavioral study someday and figure it out --- that would give me a reason to return to this place.
is anyone really satisfied after one visit to colorado?

that's all for now, friends. i'll be back in a week or so with thoughts and perhaps some more photos of this glorious trip. hopefully before then i will get to see a mountain goat! (she said with hopes high.)  i hope you are enjoying wherever you are, soaking up all that is normal and outrageous and beautiful right in your backyard.