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"Be brave. Take risks. Nothing can substitute experience."

- Paulo Coelho

It is in the quiet moments when the doubt sneaks in. When I am lying in bed trying to sleep, when I am doing dishes in a quiet house, when I am driving home in the dark. What am I giving up? I look around at my cute  little house in an amazing location, at my awesome roommate, at my adorable little furballs and think, why am I giving this up? I have a pretty darn good life here in Austin - good friends, good family, a job (that often takes over my life - but that is for a whole series of posts another time), weekends filled with whatever I want. I have a pretty good existence.....so why am I leaving it all behind? Because I want to do something more, I don't want to merely exist anymore. I don't want to get by - I want to thrive.

I want to jump out of bed because I can't wait to start my day instead of hitting the snooze button 6 times.

I want to light up and get excited when I talk about what I do, I don't want to roll my eyes and talk about how many hours I worked this week.

I want to see those gorgeous locations that I've only dreamed about, not just gaze longingly at pictures in a magazine wondering if and when I'll ever get there.

I don't want to live a life that burns me out to the point where I need to take a 10 day break from it all - I want to lead a fulfilled, adventurous life that gives me more happiness and energy that any vacation could.

I want more.

Look at this stuff, isn't it neat, wouldn't you think my collection's complete? Wouldn't you think that I am the girl, the girl who has everything?.....I've got gadgets and gizmos a plenty, I've got whozits and whatist galore. Thingamabobs? I've got twenty. But who cares, no big deal......I want mooooooooore

Sorry, I couldn't help it. Lyrics from The Little Mermaid song "Part of Your World" in case you didn't catch that. Oh, that song is now in your head? You're welcome.

That is why I am giving this ol' life up, my collection ain't complete. I don't want stuff. I want adventure, I want to meet new interesting people, I want unforgettable experiences, I want challenge. I want more.

That is why we need to travel. If we don't offer ourselves to the unknown, our sense dull. Our world becomes small and we lose our sense of wonder. Our eyes don't lift to the horizon; our ears don't hear the sounds around us. The edge is off our experience, and we pass our days in a routine that is both comfortable and limiting. We wake up one day and find that we have lost our dreams in order to protect our days. Don't let yourself become one of these people. The fear of the unknown and the lure of the comfortable will conspire to keep you from taking the chances the traveler has to take. But if you take them, you will never regret your choice.  
- Sabrina Ward Harrison

The Definition of Home

“We must be willing to let go of the life we planned so as to have the life that is waiting for us.”  

- Joseph Campbell

My cats weren't initially part of my life plan, but I stumbled across them and adopted them shortly after college and they soon became my new definition of home. Wherever my cats were, that was my home. 

My cats have been a source of companionship, happiness and joy in a life that was sometimes lacking in all three.  After working crazy, long hours I'd come home to their furry faces, wanting me to cuddle or play. It is entirely possible that their meows were just their way of asking me about my day. No matter how long I was working, who I was living with, how long I'd been gone or where I was packing up and moving them to next; they were always been the same - Clementine petite, sweet and silly and Nutmeg mischievous, goofy and quite demanding of all my attention. They could always make me laugh and would stop me, even just momentarily, from thinking about whatever problems or concerns that were going through my mind at the end of each day. They are good little kitties and very dear to me. 

Now, however, I am giving up my home in pursuit of a dream and with that, means giving up my two furballs in hopes of a better life for both them and for me. For them, I hope their new home is a safe, warm, loving home full of sparkly toys, tuna and feathers on a string - a happy, safe place to live out their remaining years. 

For me, I hope my new home is a place filled with happiness, joy and adventure. My home will be wherever the Universe takes me and wherever I choose it to be. 

The World's Best Island...

...at least according to Outside magazine

Austin: Part Uno

It was a cold day in February 2005 when I rolled into the town that I would call home for the next seven years. Like my hopes, the sun was high....

....just kidding! This is not some long-winded and drawn out story of my life in Austin. Since there is now a limit to my time left in the capital city, I plan to occasionally photos of my favorite places/people/things that I am leaving behind. Yes, I might only be gone for six months, but I might also be gone for longer if another interesting opportunity presents itself after my program is complete. Either way, this project will be a fun way for me to capture the place that I've called home for the past seven years.

Part Uno: Mount Bonnell

Situated in the hills of west Austin above Lake Austin is my favorite place in town - Mount Bonnell. If you have come to visit me, chances are I've taken you there. No, it is not a fourteener in Colorado with majestic views of the Rocky Mountains, nor is it the spectacular Na Pali Coast in Kauai. It is merely Mount Bonnell - where couples go to watch the sunset between lip locks and pose for adorable Facebook photos, where kids go to scratch their names in the rock and cry out when they trip and fall, where dogs go to mark their territory and have their poo left behind by inattentive owners, where friends go to sit and chat over illegal open containers and where the poor, like me, go to drool over the enormous houses lining the lakefront down below. 

It is also where I go to sit, watch the sunset and reflect on how truly grateful I am to be here and live in this city. Roll your eyes if you must, but I love running up the countless stairs to the top, reaching the edge of the cliff gasping for air and taking in the view. I look up Lake Austin to the cars on the 360 bridge, across to the homes along Westlake Drive, down to the boats zipping along the water with water skiers and wake boarders trailing behind, and up to the sun setting behind the antennae covered hills. I soak in the sights, catch my breath and then run down the trail along the cliff back down to the parking lot down below. 

Unless otherwise noted, the  photos below are from this past Sunday, a glorious spring day with a cool breeze and clear sky. Enjoy!

view up Lake Austin towards the 360 bridge

view down Lake Austin towards the Tom Miller Dam

My little Honda Fit would look quite nice in that big, lonely driveway

Sunset over West Lake Hills, 6:23pm

From spring 2011

From spring 2011, with my niece

What if?

Sunday! Sunday! Sunday! I live for Sundays. Not because I go to church (though I probably should), not because of some weekly family gathering (though that isn't a bad idea considering we all live withing 50 miles of each other), it is because I get to go mountain biking with the Austin Ridge Riders (beginner's group of course).

For me, there is nothing quite like speeding down a hill, crouched above the seat with my weight back over the rear tire, gripping the handlebars with all of my might and hoping I see that gnarly rock/tree stump/root/hole in time to avoid disaster. There is no time for thinking about work/money/life/relationship problems on the trail - you have to be in the moment, keeping your eyes on the trail just ahead of you, focusing on where you want your bike to go, not caring where you've been, just happy that you are still on the damn thing.

I was first introduced to mountain biking while studying abroad in Scotland as part of a bonding weekend in the country somewhere near Loch Ness with my study abroad group. They threw us on beat up mountain bikes, made sure we could steer between narrow obstacles and then lead us on a trail that I swear had the word "death" in the title. After the exhilaration of speeding down a few steep and muddy hills without falling off my bike, I had a huge smile on my face and large trail of mud up my back - I was hooked. Fast forward to almost ten years later and mountain biking still has that same effect on me.

I took a break from mountain biking for a few years in my mid to late twenties, not because I didn't have a bike (I had a pretty decent one collecting dust) but because, well, I don't really know why. I had a bunch of excuses for not going such as "I don't know anyone who likes to mountain bike," "I can't go alone," "I'm not good enough to join a group, "my bike is too old," "the trails are too busy on the weekends,"  "I'm too busy on the weekends," "what if I get hurt?" "I'm not in good enough shape." I finally realized that they were all bullshit excuses covering up various fears and insecurities and the only way I'd get over them was to get back on my mountain bike. I broke out the spandex, looked up free group rides online and found the Austin Ridge Riders - they lead all level rides on Sundays out at Walnut Creek, a mere 15 minutes from my house. I now had a group of people to ride with.

The first time I showed up, I was a little nervous. What if I don't remember how to mountain bike? What if they laugh at my bike? I don't have those fancy disc brakes, the clip-in shoes or the nice camelbak backpack with 100 fluid ounces of water. I just had my old, basic entry level mountain bike, regular plastic water bottle in a cage and my running shoes. What if I am the only girl and hold the group back? What if I fall off? What if, what if, what if?

You, dear reader, might be thinking to yourself "I thought this blog was about her moving to the Seychelles, what the hell does mountain biking have to do with moving?" Stay with me, I swear there is a connection.

About five minutes into my first ride, I had that familiar smile and that delightful trail of mud up my back and realized that I needed to change the tone of my questions. What if I show up and I have a great time? What if I meet some fun, interesting people who like to bike just as much as I do? What if I get better every time I go because I am riding with people who can actually teach me how to ride better? What if I have people who help me out when my bike breaks? What if I now look forward to my Sunday rides more than anything else during the week? 

You see, I asked myself many of those negatively framed questions when I first came across the six month long program in the Seychelles and thought to myself "I could never do something like that." The questions sounded something like this: what if I can't come up with the money? What if I go and I hate it? What if I am not good at scuba diving every day? What if I get homesick? What if I actually get sick? What if the people are terrible? What if I lose all my money? What if I get premature wrinkles from spending so much time in the sun? Seriously, this crossed my mind. What if, what if, what if......

I quickly realized the only thing stopping me was me, my attitude, and the framing of my questions.

What if I can come up with the money? What if I go and I love it? What if I am actually good at scuba diving every day? What if I get in the best shape I've ever been in because I am doing something active all day, every day? What if I meet amazing people? What if this opens up opportunities that I can't even imagine yet? What if I am so happy there I do get wrinkles......from smiling all the dang time?

There is no way to know the answer to these question unless I show up and try something new, scary and incredibly exciting all at the same time.