Showing posts with label Kickstarter. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Kickstarter. Show all posts

Tuesday, October 15, 2013

Scatter My Ashes At The Mall


Wild.

An excerpt from Girl Gone Wild:
To back this book in the final day of the Kickstarter click here.

When it comes to our relationship to the wild, and our comfort in it, the problem is that there is nothing in the wild for us to consume. There is no story line or Hollywood effects, no sale signs, no conveniences, and no bonus rounds. In the American wild, now, as always, there is only you, and the land. Even with the rush of over-development in the last fifty years the wide-open spaces of America are vast and breath-taking, but they offer only the intangible effects that come with the opening of the spirit. The real value of these gifts is only recognized with practice and patience. Time teaches us to understand the world at its own tempo, on the larger timescales of geology and evolution rather than in the 24 hour news cycle soundbites to which we have become accustomed. In order to step into the wild, we need to step away from our need to acquire it.

The same thing can be said of ego. So maybe you do not look your prettiest, maybe you are slower than the other hikers, maybe you look silly in a big sun hat. Who cares? Have fun, live life, relish not having to be right or the best, or prove yourself in any way. Have patience with and compassion for yourself; recognize that everything else is in its natural and flawed state in the wild too, without diminishing its beauty or grandeur. You are in the wilderness, no one is watching, its not going to end up on Facebook or Youtube unless you put it there, so enjoy yourself just as you are.

I know, from deep within my body that being outside is good for me, mind, body, and soul. I know from watching others and hearing their stories that the wilderness is good for them too. I know from personal experience that my friends that spend regular time outside are less likely to to have problems with weight, mental health, or drug and alcohol abuse. I know that a walk outside gives me time to breath and think and sort myself out. I know that when I am unhappy, facing challenges, or in need of comfort, the wilderness provides it. I know that no one asks to have their ashes scattered at the mall.

The wilderness restores me. Not just in the way that fresh air and light raise your spirits and clear your head; it has always been the thing to which I turn in the troubled times of my life. To walk in the woods, to feel what it is to be a part of the larger systems of the world, to see myself as just another animal in the wild, one that can commune with the birds, watch the fish jump, track the stars across the sky, has always worked to calm my mind and put into perspective the trials of my life. I have walked out heartbreak over miles and miles of trails, sometimes retracing the very paths of the relationship itself; this time last year we walked this trail in the spring, here was where we went snowshoeing. I have made some of the most important life decisions in the wild, wondering if the decision to quit ones job and relocate is still ground shaking if there is no one around to witness it. I have grieved for lost loved ones and celebrated their memories at ocean beaches and mountain vistas. I have talked it out, whatever the it may be, with friends over miles and miles of terrain, sifting through the clutter and debris of our lives, walking and talking.


Being in the wilderness forces us to rely upon ourselves and keep our own company in a way that modern society does not. This is something that is very good for us. I know so many women who lock their doors and close their blinds, that cannot eat out at a restaurant by themselves, that think they cannot change a tire or drive someplace new without getting lost. We cultivate a culture of learned helplessness the result of which is an overpowering sense of loneliness and the loss of our identities as whole, capable persons. Returning to the wild is one way for American women to revitalize ourselves as potent, powerful, and productive participants in the world around us. In the wilderness, I have learned that there is no escape from yourself; that, in fact, so much vast expanse will first force you to address yourself, before allowing you to take it in. So let it go. Let your hair frizz and your nails chip, wear clothing that is comfortable and washable, get dirty, get outside, go wild.

Thursday, October 3, 2013

Unexpected Graces


Hope.

The last two weeks have been a blur of Kickstarter. Constant emails, updates, social media postings, readings, postering, thank you's, and worry have made for restless nights and the odd sensation of standing at the side of the internet with a sign reading "will write for food". Asking for backing, especially from friends and family has made me uneasy. I believe in this book and I believe that crowd funding is the future of publishing, but I really struggled with the idea of asking for money, especially at the beginning of the project.

Now though, now that I am past the 50% mark, now that backing is starting to come in from people other than those I know, people that just want to see the book be finished and published, or who support women writers, or that are avid outdoors people, I feel less dependent on people I know, and more likely to be successful.  I want to make the people in my life that have helped me proud.

That said, having the support from those people has also, to some extent, released me from the shadow of failure.  Their endorsements, and the overall support that has come in for both me and the project are quite humbling, and a true example of grace. Consider, for example, receiving backing from a young woman for whom you once nannied, with a note telling you how exciting the project is, or going to a ballet class to find that everyone in the room, instructor included is a backer, or having old high school friends surface with backing and expert advice.  It goes on.

The lesson here, for me, is that success comes in many forms. Now, regardless of the success or failure of the Kickstarter, I have the broad support from all corners of my life. I will be able to take all of this and use it to fuel the publication of Girl Gone Wild and my own passion for the project. What I have been given, is hope.

To Back the Project:

Tuesday, September 17, 2013

The Thrill Of The Hunt


Shroom.

Nothing says fall to me like piles and piles of Chanterelle mushrooms.  This year they have started early and I am celebrating being able to hunt in dry weather.  I love the mystique of mushroom hunting, the secret locations, returning to old familiar stomping grounds, the same tree stump year after year.  I love the excitement of finding a hidden cluster, the leading edge of one mushroom turning into a pound with some careful brushing aside of debris.  With time, I have learned patience in the hunt, knowing that two hours of futility can be reversed with one or two good finds.  I also know that nothing in life is a guarantee and I should be cautious about taking my harvest personally, skill and experience may help, but in the end luck always seems to to win.  More than anything though, the autumn hunt encourages me to slow down, step off the trail, and look closely at the forest, to scrutinize it with a clarity and openness that I rarely accomplish charging up the trail, a destination as my goal.  I appreciate this annual reminder of the complexity of things and the need to pay attention.  The journey, after all, is only one part of our experience.

Happy hunting.

Like what you are reading?  Then support the Kickstarter for my book Girl Gone Wild- On Being a Woman in the Wilderness.  Thanks!



Monday, August 26, 2013

One More Time Around


Deja.

For me, the end of summer and beginning of fall has always marked the start of the new year. Perhaps it is because of the startling change of season, or the start of school, or the arrival of my birthday, but I always take this time of year to reflect on the previous twelve months and set some goals for the next twelve.  With that in mind, and before taking a brief travel hiatus, this week I want to revisit some of the most-read posts and a couple of my favorites from this year.  I hope you enjoy them the second time around.  Thanks for reading.

Also! Keep an eye out for the beginning of my Kickstarter campaign to fund the completion of my Girl Gone Wild book about being a woman in the wilderness, your support, financial or promotional by passing the word, will be much appreciated. 

From February, the most-read post this year:

Lost.

In 2006 Joyce Carol Vincent was found dead in her London flat.  The cause of death was not determined due to the advanced state of decomposition of her body.  Joyce was 38 years old when she died.  Her body had lain undisturbed in her flat for nearly three years.  The story of Joyce, what there is to know and tell has been documented in the film Dreams of a Life.  

Joyce was not a shut-in, had no history of mental illness of drug abuse, and had three living sisters.  She was widely described as beautiful , vibrant, and successful.  By all accounts from those that knew her, it is as though the Joyce they knew simply slipped away; they seemed unable to reconcile the woman in the flat with the person they had known.  Contrary to the image of a recluse she was found surrounded by freshly wrapped Christmas presents; there must have been people in her life.

While there is something morbidly compelling about the unresolved cause of her death and the grim tableau of how she was found, the more disturbing element of this story is the three year wait before her discovery.  Where were family, friends, and coworkers?  Where were the neighbors or the mailman? Where, even, were the bill collectors? In the end, it took even the landlords three years to come and clear her out for unpaid rent.  

I think that the we learn more about ourselves in Joyce's story than we learn about her.  When she died in 2003 we were pre-Facebook and post nuclear-family.  2003 was right in the transition point between the constant connections of the social media age and the isolation and lack of community of the end of the 20th Century.  Three years? How can this be? It is not hard for me to imagine friends of mine disappearing and not being noticed for three or four months.  The free spirits, wanderers, or troubled souls, but three years? There is no one I know or have ever known that was in any way functional that could disappear from all things for three years and not have someone ring the bell.  

What are we to think of this?   Is Joyce some kind of social canary warning us of the dangers of our modernity? Is it an isolated case; one sad woman's quiet decline?  Is it possible that we have reached a place where people can live out their lives with no real connections?  How acceptable is distance between family members?  How important is the building of community? How long do you want to wait before someone finds you? 

This terrifies me.  Joyce's story tapped into some deeply rooted fears about mortality and loneliness.  I think that we all have these fears.  It's why we bother to call up old friends, love and lose and love again, and hassle our way through the holidays to spend time with family; so that when things go awry, someone is there to help us.  Somewhere along the line either Joyce stopped bothering, or everyone else did.  Probably a little of both.  I think a consequence of contemporary culture may be the devaluing of substantive connections with other people.  I think that we are all not so far away from being Joyce as we might like to believe.

Like what you are reading?  Then support the Kickstarter for my book Girl Gone Wild- On Being a Woman in the Wilderness.  Thanks!



References/Works Cited:

Dreams of a Life:
Photo: