Fall is here.

Fall has erupted. 
The last day of summer was the first rain of the season. 
Friday the 20th was a peculiar day. 
Arrived to the place where we would hike out (about a mile) to go do stream work. 
We opened our car doors, greeted by the warm, yet frigid air, to hear a hissing noise. 
Flat tire. 
We change the tire. Start work late. 
Leave work an hour early. 
Take off gear, start to get into the car, and a 30% chance of rain becomes reality. 
The sky becomes sharper, the trees greener, and the dust settles. 
An hour later we arrive to the top of the mountain, and to the gate where my car is parked, and I take off for San Francisco. 
It was time to see my incredible friend Rachel, and see Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic with her and her friend Dacia. 
The drive passed by quickly until Sausalito and the bridge. 19th was backed up. But it was okay -- being in this city is home. Having the extra time in traffic to gaze and people watch was much appreciated. 
Arrived at Rachel's home in Daly City. Awesome neighborhood. Awesome house. Have food, have wine. Meet Dacia, and instantly become best friends -- upon her (mutually approved of) request. Shower like a mad woman. And head for the concert. 
Get on Muni. Find a bible written in Spanish. 
Concert was on Pier 23 under the moonlight. It wasn't raining. I was wearing only a tank top and jeans, in San Francisco, and I was comfortable. 
Edward Sharpe had just finished the first song. We show our tickets, run to the stage, and are nearly front row (standing), but off to the left (facing the stage). 
I smiled, so much as we ran to the stage and began dancing. 
Several moments I had to pinch myself. 
I was dancing. Dancing so much. There was a slight, so very slight breeze parading through my hair. Outside. On the Pier. With the moon. In SF. The last summer night. Edward Sharpe. Great friends. Hand holding. Screaming. 
Concert finishes, and gets cut off. But it's alright. 
Back on Muni -- to Mel's diner. Vanilla shakes, cheese fries, late night conversations with the waiter. 
Back to home, drop off Dacia. 
Late night chats. 
Fall asleep to Christmas Lights making the room softer, and awaken to a day of rain on the first day of Autumn. Perfection. 
Rachel and I had coffee, lots of fruit with oatmeal, and some cookie butter, and then I fled to Sausalito, in pouring skies and water filled roads, to go see houseboats with my family. 
Go back to Rachel's, 
and now I'm here. Drinking tea, and talking with her. 
It's Dani's (my Spanish housemate from Italy) birthday. I celebrated it with him last year. Last year. 
Life is so conventionally and unconventionally odd and beautiful. 

Forests

To momentarily exist independent of others is disturbing and enlightening. 

We've been conditioned to think that nature cannot teach, but can provide a space to learn; an entity to study and a means to self-discovery. 

We categorize, we identify so that the mysterious moves into the known. 

We seek the ordered chaos, to implement order in our very minds. 

Yet, we do not learn from. We do not let ourselves be taught by the natural world that surrounds -- deeming it impossible that a seemingly inanimate object -- something wild and separate from the human environment, could teach one about the self, about the world, and about our very own bodies. 

I've hiked. I've backpacked. I've sat on many shores, swam in uncounted waters, and found myself in deserts. Ice, snow, dirt, sand, mud. Steep slopes, flat lands. 

My time in nature consistently brought me to a place of understanding. Brought me.I saw nature as this beautiful, sacred, space that I could learn in; a place of peace where the mind could find clarity. 

But those spaces in nature, had clear paths, were more refined, and were places where people usually go. 

To carve my own path through nature, to submerse myself in the wild, and let myself be... just be -- that was a different experience. To go into nature, where people have not tried to organize and categorize. To go to spaces where you do not understand, and places where you have not seen, that is when you truly allow the mind to unfold. 

In the depths of the forest, you relearn how to be human. You learn how to walk, to step, to ascend, and to stabilize. Your legs, your feet, must carry you differently. Your core is more activated. Your arms must pull, grab, claw, brace, bend, and break to help you move. There is no simple, graceful, and calm arm swing. It is jagged, abrupt, awkward, and untimely. Your legs swing over and your body dives under fallen trees. The forest shows you, teaches you, how to exist as a body. As your own individual entity in the midst of the undefined. 

In the depths of the forest, your lungs breathe deep. Reminding you the power of air. The power of your own body to live. Your skin is scratched, scraped, and bruised -- reminding you of the power of that casing that holds your body together -- protects you. The forest shows you how to move, how to breathe, how to navigate. It teaches you and shows you what you are actually capable of as a body, in the simplest of terms. It teaches you that we are not all-knowing, even when it comes to knowing our very own bodies. 

To many that simplicity may be dehumanizing, or even belittling. But for me, to understand myself in the simplest form -- how I walk, jump, move, breathe, run is more humanizing than not having this connection with who I am. We see our body only as compartment for our mind -- that our mind is truly what defines us. But to understand the body that carries the mind is invaluable and is the gateway to not only understanding our minds, but having a stronger mind as well. 

Learning at first felt empty. The familiar ways of moving that I had known for the past 22 years became as unrecognizable as the landscape I was encountering. Taking these -- what we see as -- basic parts of life, of movement, and making them inapplicable, forces you to be as undefined as the space around you. From that point of indefinite knowing, being, and surrounding, you are then able to define yourself, as you define the space around you. 

And with each step of complete intention, each muscle flex and engagement, each tear of the skin, and each deep inhale of the lungs, you relearn who you are, what your body is, what your mind can withstand, and the varying ways it can interact with the world around you.

1 year

A year has gone by since I left for Italy. August 19, 2012. What a day that was.

I cried so hard as soon as I passed through the gate. Realizing everything was going to change -- most likely for the better -- but it meant, many people would no longer be apart of my life. 

People on my 3 plane rides, and within the 4 airports -- that I ventured through -- probably thought I was crazy as I went through waves of smile, anger, fear, and full on crying. 

I left, and arrived in Italy, with no clue of who I'd meet, what my apartment looked like, or who I'd be living with. I was completely and utterly clueless. 

I almost missed every connecting flight. I lost my luggage. Sorted it all out by speaking Italian. Got a taxi in Italian. Showed up to apartment. Didn't know how to get in, since I didn't know what floor or apartment number I had. Asked to use Caffe' Zamboni's phone -- a place I would grow to love -- and eventually ended up my apartment... 

The apartment I had no idea that would soon be filled with the most amazing people I have ever meant. Happy memories, drunken memories, delirious one. Sad ones, stressed ones -- growing, loving, amazing ones... perfect ones. 

I was greeted at my door by Daniela. Whose kindness to show me around the city meant more to me than anything in this world. She helped me get my phone and internet squared away. Showed me where the study center was, and of course all of the important sites of Bologna. She introduced me to Pizza Bo, which is the perfect city-wide network website for home delivery for any food you could want... perfect for those days you're completely incapable of leaving your bed. 

Nearly 6 months later... my apartment went from being empty, alone, and blank -- to full of smiles, memories, visions, beautiful BEAUTIFUL people, love, and laughter. 

I miss the talks I had around my kitchen table. The nights of joyous cooking, music blasting, and story sharing, before we'd all go out walking around town or dancing. 

I miss nights in, where my roommates and I would all show each other good street views of each others' houses and where we grew up -- trying to get a greater understanding of each other. 

I miss it all so much. My heart yearns for Italy every. single. day. There isn't a day that I haven't gone without thinking about it. 

I could finally fully be me for the first time -- in any setting. And that is the most invaluable thing I have ever encountered in my entire life... to be able to be you, in a setting full of unknown, and unanswered questions... that is just lovely. So very, very lovely. 

Battles

Everyone has personal battles, which -- for lack of a better phrase -- come in all shapes and sizes. Battles can be self-destructing, imposed by others, and even arisen by inanimate objects. To keep it simple, I've divided battles into three categories:

Daily Battles: These are the small obstacles that happen throughout the day. Whether it's a broken stapler, a shitty coworker, traffic, or a fight with a friend, these are the battles that occur in one day -- in one moment -- and usually don't carry over to the next day. 

Present and Future Battles: These are battles that do not stem from the past, but they can be long-lasting. This can still involve inanimate objects, but the problem doesn't cease just after one day. However, the END of the battle is in sight and seems attainable. These battles could be things like: questions of life, coping with the loss of someone or something, or even trying to find a job. 

And last, but not least, there are... 

Past Battles: To put it bluntly, this is just emotional baggage. That deep-rooted crap that you either learn to deal with, or just leave unsettled. 

Dealing with emotional baggage makes the past battles seem beautiful, the daily battles seem miniscule, and the present/future battles seem exciting. But... that's not to say these obstacles don't find away to creep into your life and leave you unsettled and imbalanced -- your coping skills just get better if you deal with the past battles. 

For me, I currently find myself struggling with the Present and Future Battles, or to be specific -- questions of life and how I relate to others. 

As an individual, I feel like I know what I want and who I am. I still have uncertainties, but I'm excited by those. 

In relation to others though, I'm finding that maybe the majority of my goals, my views, my aspirations, and my perspectives don't breed social cohesion for my life. 

What do I mean by "social cohesion?" Well, much of my dreams require a lot of independence and thus less interactions with people, but this really conflicts with my personality of being a hopeless and utter romantic, who loves being surrounded by people. So... I feel torn.

Of course, there are people in the world with like-minded dreams, who I can not only share these experiences with, but who also know how to sustain a friendship where people see each other very little throughout the year, or a given period of time. But still... it's hard to maintain those connections with so little interactions. 

Being in Italy, and starting this job in the "working world," has definitely shown me who the rocks in my life are; I see who will always be there. However, the longer I'm away, the greater the risk of that number becoming smaller. 

I know that's life. And I know my goals will lead me to meeting other people, but that's not to say it still isn't difficult when I find myself either 1. not connecting with someone and/or 2. struggling to find time to see someone because I'm (physically) so far apart from them. 

I know I'm always going to yearn for something new (even if I initially hate the stark change that comes along with it), and I know I'm not always going to be permanently settled somewhere until I'm much, much older. This, fortunately -- and yet unfortunately -- weeds out people I don't connect with, makes apparent the people I love, highlights the ones who bring out the best in me, and yet also has the potential to drift me away from the people I want to keep. 

So... in the mean time, I'm working on communicating much better with the people I miss. I'm trying to take on new habits, so I can make those people -- who I don't see that often -- feel as loved as they make me feel. Because the people in my life, who I can go so long without seeing -- and then instantly reconnect with when we reunite -- are definitely people I do not want to lose. 

These are my Present and Future battles (as far as questions of life go), and this is what I will continually have to work at: 

sand

Sometimes, you wish all of the details of your life could just unfold right before your eyes. There are moments where it feels like everything is whirling around you in a complex and hazy fashion; 

it is confusing. 
it is hypnotizing. 
it is calming. 
it is tantalizing. 

You look at everything that lay before you in amazement of how there seems to be so many answers in front of you, yet you can't piece anything together. It's like you can make sense of the fact that it's all nonsense, but... it's still nonsense, but... maybe one day it will all make sense?

I think life as a whole can feel this way, and so can experiences, and even people. Something can feel whole in front of you, yet fragmented. You understand, but you're unable to grasp all of the pieces and put them together; you feel like everything is coming together and falling apart at the same time. 

The only way I can describe what I mean by that is through a visual: 

Imagine you have a handful of sand. You're on a beach, and then slowly and softly you let the sand gradually fall out of your hand and get caught up in the wind. It's elegant, it's graceful, but it's still "falling apart." 

             But... was it ever really together? 
             What was holding it together? 
             Do things have to fall apart to make sense? 
             And the fact that it could be falling apart doesn't even have to be bad, or devastating -- you still can admire the process. 

Friday was the last day of my first week at work. It's been a whirl. There are small moments where it feels right and clear, and small moments where it feels like the image I described, confusing and not together, yet beautiful. 

When I think about the larger picture... the haze grows larger and nearly envelopes me. I feel like I'm blinded by this beautiful lack of transparency, but sometimes that transparency feels suffocating or paralyzing. 

I love my job, but other aspects of my life -- including the big picture -- could be a lot clearer. 

Strangers

A year ago you were all strangers to me. 

I had no idea who you were, where you were from, or that you even existed. There was no inclination or hinting that you would be coming into my life... you all just arrived. And everything fell into place. 

Sure there were disagreements, awkward moments, times where I didn't know if it was possible for us to get along, but in the end, we all ended up so close. 

I've been in the states for 6 months. I haven't seen you all for 6 months. And I miss you all so much. 

You all saw me transform into the person I've always wanted to be. You accepted me through my highs and lows. You laughed with me. You cried with me. Late night movies. Late night walks. Late nights out. Late night cooking. Late night talks around our old kitchen table. 

I miss stumbling into the kitchen half asleep to find one of you cooking with a big smiling face, or just as tired or hungover as I was. 

Each one of you taught me so much and brought even more people and experiences into my life. 

What I would give to live with you all again. To see you right now. I think about you all every. single. day. and you have impacted my life more than people I've known for years. 

Anxious

I'm getting anxious to go exploring again. I want to go somewhere new. Somewhere wild. I want to engage with cultures unlike any other. I want to meet new people and expand my mind. 

I miss the hospitality and kindness of people I met on my travels, and in Bologna, when I studied abroad. 

Today marks 6 months since I've been back from Italy, and to be frank... I don't feel quite whole yet. I know I should have fully transitioned by now, but it isn't so. I think I belong somewhere else. 

Maybe I'm a wanderer. Maybe I'm not meant to stay in a place for long. Or maybe I found my place, and I need to return to it. 

Certainty will never be present, but in the mean time, I can just try to figure out me, go with the flow, and let my feet take me where I need to be.