...

There's nothing like having a sidewalk curb break you out of your running-induced stupor at 5:45 in the morning.  It really provides a nice spark to your day.  Thankfully I avoided injury by dropping my right shoulder and performing a (rather spectacular) roll rather than catching my fall with the palms of my hands/knees/face.

Maybe I can become Sydney Bristow after all.

PS.  You should probably watch this.

Happy Monday!

Happiness is...

stopping the car in order to let a mama and her seven ducklings cross the road unharmed

and this song:

Go ahead. Judge me.  

Connection vs. Conversation

Here is a fantastic article from the New York Times.  It certainly makes me assess my own level of true conversation-- conversation that requires the use of my voice rather than the use of my thumbs and fingers.  Read and think.

Side note: It's funny how I'm sharing this via the Internet.  More than a little bit ironic, wouldn't you say?

4, 5, 6. pick up sticks.

i love to mow the lawn.  it truly is one of my favorite activities-- as is yard work in general.  this evening was the first time i've mowed this year and i've missed it.  you may be wondering who actually yearns to mow a lawn?  this girl does.  and i'll tell you a little story to illustrate why.

it was a dreary thursday in early spring during my (1st) senior year at byu.  i'd just bombed a test and i was distraught.  i'd studied really hard and thought i understood the material, but my score suggested otherwise.  in my distress, i drove up to my parents' house and found my dad out in the orchard pruning the fruit trees.  wanting to help, i started to pick up the fallen branches and stack them neatly in the wheelbarrow.  i ended up spending a good few hours out in that orchard and experienced the realization of why i enjoyed picking up sticks/mowing the lawn/yard work so much: because it's simple.  my grades didn't depend on how well i put the sticks in the wheelbarrow.  it didn't require hours and hours of studying.  it was even really possible to fail: you pick up the stick. you put it in the wheelbarrow.  repeat.  you pull a weed.  put it in the bucket. repeat.  you push the lawn mower to one end of the yard. turn it around. and push it back.  it's not rocket science.  which is precisely why it is so wonderful.  

as i've gotten older and life has become much more complicated (and i'm sure will continue to do so), i've found solace in the straight foward, repetitive tasks.  it's why i was drawn to swimming in my younger years.  it's why i love running so much today. it's why i love mowing the lawn.  and cleaning up fallen branches.  i've even come to enjoy weeding. 

some may call these activities tedious and mundane, but i find them all therapeutic.  for in those few moments, the mind quiets, problems seem to dissipate,  and life becomes as simple as picking up a stick.

L'identité

A fascinating opinion piece about French national identity.  

Who Gets to Be French?

exquisite exhaustion.

 you know it's a good day when:

• it begins with a 12-mile run.
• you get to go to lunch with a new friend.
  
• the afternoon/evening is spent with wonderful families and the cutest kids around. 
  
• it ends with a sing-a-long 'round the piano (don't worry. i didn't sing. just accompanied).

i am incredibly tired, but my exhaustion in dwarfed by the reminder that i am incredibly blessed.

p.s. love these lyrics. love the melody. love this song.

Homeward Bound by Marta Keen

In the quiet misty morning when the moon has gone to bed,
When the sparrows stop their singing and the sky is clear and red.
When the summer’s ceased its gleaming,
When the corn is past its prime,
When adventure’s lost its meaning,
I’ll be homeward bound in time.

Bind me not to the pasture, chain me not to the plow.
Set me free to find my calling and I’ll return to you somehow.

If you find it’s me you're missing, if you’re hoping I’ll return.
To your thoughts I’ll soon be list’ning, and in the road I’ll stop and turn.
Then the wind will set me racing as my journey nears its end.
And the path I’ll be retracing when I’m homeward bound again.

Bind me not to the pasture, chain me not to the plow.
Set me free to find my calling and I’ll return to you somehow.

In the quiet misty morning when the moon has gone to bed,
When the sparrows stop their singing,
I’ll be homeward bound again.

i choose life, part 2.

forgive the unintentional blogging hiatus-- i was really busy this past week.  busy living.

not an episode of a TV show (including sportscenter) got watched.  i missed both final four basketball games. i hardly got on facebook.  i didn't blog (obviously).

i replaced the TV shows and basketball games with people.  i filled the usual solitary nights with fhe, work, institute, and people.  i ran. i worked outside. i read good books. i talked to the champ on the phone.  i made an effort to make sure my family knew i loved (this of course being achieved most readily by sending them pictures of ridiculously cute baby animals.)

i went to bed every night exhausted. but i went to bed every night with a grateful heart and a sense of contentment i haven't had in a very long time.  

God. cultivating relationships with people you hold dear. hard work. increasing in knowledge. discovery.

in the past seven days, i've been reminded that these things turn mere existence into living.