Blueberry muffin bread

I left my tranquil Tetons several days ago to journey four hours to a great big city nestled among more massive mountains. I felt so upset the next day about truly so many things. Leaving a place out of fear, anger, resentment, even, just feels so wrong inside me. As though all those sour tasting memories won and are still claiming victory over my soul, my safety, my community.

But the next day I woke up and climbed a mountain that overlooked the city. My floppy, gummy smile dog and me, always. It was sunny and warm. The air felt different in my lungs. The earth seemed to shift with my perspective and all of a sudden I was okay. Okay with everything, honestly. It seemed that with every breath I took up this mountain, the angry, heartbroken pieces of me fell with my sweat, down my brow, across my cheek to plop right on the neck of my shirt. I hadn’t felt that much me in a long time. So despite a lot of the uncertainties, the pain and anguish that came along with this move, despite being misunderstood and judged, I did it. I did what I knew all along I had to do and was capable of doing: I listened to the little one inside of me. I sought her out, and I fought for what she needed. The yellow-hoodie mountain majesty, twirly princess. She craves the bigness out of life when something so scary tries to take it away. She craves a place where she can be fully childlike again. Carefree and curious little green eyed mads is my very favorite. She’s the one I’ve been fighting for.

I learned something today about myself, perhaps I’ve always known though, and this is just a process of forming words, like I’m learning to talk again. I don’t know if I’ve ever truly felt whole. But perhaps that’s why I try to live so big. To project pieces of me into the world so when something tries to take them, all I have to do is go searching again. They’re in the mountains and the oceans, the fields of wildflowers and the rivers of fish, they’re purple blobs and swirls of blueberry juice in muffin mixed transformed bread. Do I even want to be whole? Would I still be the same me if I was?