August 15, 2004 Salmon River Stars I think I could live in Idaho if someone asked me to. I wonder if someone will ever ask me to? The skies there are enormous, big and blue and full of spectacular clouds. Idaho is one of the prettiest states I've ever seen. And the air feels so soft and pure. Is it strange to say that I miss the air in Idaho? So, yeah, we're back. Had a good vacation. There's a new album up in the photoblog which hopefully offers the right level of detail about our adventures, including the story about my exciting injury that required honest-to-goodness medical attention. I hope it's not too much. I wanted to share the stories of the trip while leaving out the detailed shots of Tom cleaning trout. You can thank me later for that. In Idaho we slept in fishing cabins by the Salmon River. They were modest little cabins with no air conditioning, but so close to the water that it hardly mattered. The locals suggested closing the doors and windows during the day, then opening them up at night to let the cool air in. There is a special kind of thinking and relaxing and reflecting you get to do when you're on vacation. Idaho gave me lots and lots of this stuff. Maybe it's the rawness of the landscape out there; maybe it's the simple fact that we were so far out of cell phone range that connecting with the rest of the world was not an option. But just sitting on a rock watching the water move by made it easier to breathe. Easier to see. Easier to be. During the day the others would go out fishing and I'd take my camera and go out for a walk. I'd shoot a bunch of photos and come back to the cabin, and read for a few hours and write in my journal. (I re-read All the Pretty Horses by Cormac McCarthy out there, and it made a special kind of sense in that wonderful setting.) Then at night the others would come back from the river and we'd clean the fish and fry it up and aftewards we'd gather around the table for a slide show of that day's images. Yeah, we couldn't use our cell phones, but my brother-in-law's laptop still worked. One night after the others had gone to bed I stayed up late talking with Kathy. We talked about what it means to become yourself, to be yourself, how to move from one place to another, how to go through changes honestly when it feels like the rest of the world would rather keep you where you are. Gazing at the stars, Kathy said, "It's hard to be yourself when you're around people who don't know how to be themselves." Such a simple idea, but I spent the rest of the trip thinking about it. Am I the kind of person that frees other people to be themselves? Who are the people around me that are struggling to be themselves? Kathy and her husband remind me how good it is to be open to life around me. To be as honest as I can about what I'm experiencing. I was surrounded by people who want to live life authentically, so a little trip to Idaho became something extraordinary.
Now playing: Summer vacation images. Yee-haw! Still posting frequently to Flickr, and loving it.
Hmmm. Turns out that August is historically a very bad month for me writing in this journal.
The Unforgettable Fire — U2
Whatever people in general do not understand, they are always prepared to dislike; the incomprehensible is always the obnoxious. — L. E. Landon The only reason that we don't open our hearts and minds to other people is that they trigger confusion in us that we don't feel brave enough or sane enough to deal with. To the degree that we look clearly and compassionately at ourselves, we feel confident and fearless about looking into someone else's eyes. — Pema Chödron
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