On fear and that Strawberry Moon
When I was a young kid, I was afraid of boats. The rocking and unsteady nature had me in grips of fear and panic. Every rocking motion made me feel as if I'd pitch over the edge, never to be seen again. At 12, we went to Disneyland, and the boats at 'it's a small world' freaked me out, even though I knew they were on tracks just below the waters surface, and there were infinite employees there to help me if I fell.
I didn't ride that ride.
I've been reading a lot, mostly about personal development and the difference between genetic disposition and grown character: the good ol' nurture versus nature. The topic to me is fascinating. The depth of a human's capacity is astounding, and it's intriguing to think that we are 'born' of certain genetic traits, but also have the ability to make decisions based on all the things we know aren't necessarily within our natural tendencies. It's fascinating to think that a young 12 year old girl, afraid of fake boats, can push out of that fear. It's fascinating to think we all have the ability to conjur our best self, and why sometimes we turn from it instead of rush with open arms towards it.
Living a full life, even if that means stepping outside much of what comes naturally.
That's the trick.
Conjuring a good version of who you think you are,
and then pressing upon it's edges
just to feel the walls bend at your will...
Just to see some of those cards you were handed
flutter into the wind.
To veer towards the light,
instead of turning from it.
That's the ever-elusive quest,
much like that pink light on a wild river far from everything,
or the bloom of a wildflower in a field no one knows.
You'll find me pressing.
Conjuring. Leaning. Learning.
And veering towards that Strawberry Moon.
Images from our backpacking and packrafting trip to the South Fork of the Flathead River, in the Bob Marshall Wilderness.
Late June 2018.