other people's words

Here is where my food has been lately. This and a poet by the name of Shane Koyczan who tends to talk a lot about sex but he is such an amazing poet that I don't even feel uncomfortable despite my extremely conservative upbringing. Here is the first poem I watched (which is possibly the only one without the metaphor of sex). Here is a heartbreaking one. And this one, this one I love; but if sex makes you uncomfortable, just skip to the last minute and trust me that the beginning is beautiful too.

From home to home.

There seems to be a large number of half finished posts in my blog drafts. That seems about right. None of my thoughts seem to end before I am aware of a dozen more standing at the door waiting for my attention. Anyway, I have just returned from Montana, which is one of my favorite places to write about. John Steinbeck wrote “I’m in love with Montana. For other states I have admiration, respect, recognition, even some affection. But with Montana it is love. And it’s difficult to analyze love when you’re in it." I used to think that quote was silly. But the more I untangle myself from my growing up, the more I love Montana.



There is no better place than summer in Montana. Of this much I am convinced though I admit to a heavy bias. There are so many stars and rivers. The clouds are always changing, growing, and traveling across this theater sky. The mountains rumble with the gentle roar produced by snow melting and racing down to the valley. And it is in the valley that I grew up and learned all of the things which have made me who I am.

Have I mentioned that I love Montana's sky? Because I do. I do not know if I would want to fly so badly if I had grown up somewhere else. In Portland, flying is a nice idea, but the sky is gray and unplayful. But in Montana, it is always changing. When I go there, I spend half of my time just watching it and it teases me. It tells me that I am still tied down by gravity and have so much left to learn and explore.

And then there is the rumbling of the waters. They used to put me to sleep at night. Everything has its rhythm and I am convinced that the blood that flows through my veins keeps pace with the rivers of Montana. I rafted them with my parents soon after I could walk and I have never been the same. My heartbeat answers to glacier water and my breath to the sound of wind in tall pines, cedars, and my most beloved cottonwoods. The wind too told me I should not trust the ground.

These pictures are of Avalanche Gorge and Avalanche Lake. There are pictures from both sides of the lake including some of the glacier snow for a reference point. ...And one more for good measure.

Yep. This is Montana and I am in love with it even though I no longer belong to it. Even if I never return, it will remain home. My first home. And that is so much more than a first love. Though, if you asked me the difference between those two, I am not sure I could tell you. Perhaps, home is the place where you learn to love and be loved. That is why it is so difficult to leave if the love is good and kind.