About the Music in My Mind (Padam... Padam... - Edith Piaf)

Europa! One month from today I will be chillaxin in Barcelona, sipping my café, and absolutely loving life. Andy and I will be flying into Barcelona on June 3rd, and out of Paris on June 16th. The time for our departure is quickly approaching, and each day I'm getting a bit more excited.

Our plans include some of this:



And a lot of this: (but don't tell Andy, he laughs at me every time I bring up the subject of pastries)


As I've been researching and planning the trip, this song has been running through my head (fitting, as it's a song about a song being in the singer's head). It is by my favorite French artist, Edith Piaf.

Padam... Padam...

Cet air qui m'obsède jour et nuit
Cet air n'est pas né d'aujourd'hui
Il vient d'aussi loin que je viens
Traîné par cent mille musiciens
Un jour cet air me rendra folle
Cent fois j'ai voulu dire pourquoi
Mais il m'a coupé la parole
Il parle toujours avant moi
Et sa voix couvre ma voix

Padam...padam...padam...
Il arrive en courant derrière moi
Padam...padam...padam...
Il me fait le coup du souviens-toi
Padam...padam...padam...
C'est un air qui me montre du doigt
Et je traîne après moi comme un drôle d'erreur
Cet air qui sait tout par cœur

Il dit: "Rappelle-toi tes amours
Rappelle-toi puisque c'est ton tour
'y a pas d'raison pour qu'tu n'pleures pas
Avec tes souvenirs sur les bras...
" Et moi je revois ceux qui restent
Mes vingt ans font battre tambour
Je vois s'entrebattre des gestes
Toute la comédie des amours
Sur cet air qui va toujours

Padam...padam...padam...
Des "je t'aime" de quatorze-juillet
Padam...padam...padam...
Des "toujours" qu'on achète au rabais
Padam...padam...padam...
Des "veux-tu" en voilà par paquets
Et tout ça pour tomber juste au coin d'la rue
Sur l'air qui m'a reconnue
...
Écoutez le chahut qu'il me fait
...
Comme si tout mon passé défilait
...
Faut garder du chagrin pour après
J'en ai tout un solfège sur cet air qui bat...
Qui bat comme un cœur de bois...

Living It

It's been well over five months since Andy and I moved into our condo, and we've finally plugged ourselves into the world wide web! (The term "slacker" would apply well here). Despite our lack of access to this bottomless pit of information (or maybe more because of it) we have been quite busy. This winter was full of work, school, and lots of play. For me, it was a winter of firsts: the first time ice climbing, the first time backcountry skiing, a new addiction to crack.... climbing, that is. We've been heading out of town as often as we can with our busy work schedules. In February, we headed to Ouray, Colorado, for my induction into the world of ice climbing. We spent all of our time at the ice park, but I really started to enjoy the medium. I'm already looking forward to getting a full season of ice climbing in next year.

Andy and Me in the Ice Park--Ouray, Colorado

Andy making his way up

Coiling the Rope

View from the Ice Park

Totally Free

In between vacations, and whenever our work schedules would permit, we have been heading into our beautiful backyard for alpine touring (and, more recently, road biking).

Big Cottonwood Canyon--Bear Trap

Ready to Go

Headed up for Turns--Reynolds Peak

Fresh Tracks--Reynolds Peak

Wanting More

Reynolds Peak

In March, we headed down to the Moab desert for a multisport adventure with some friends. We started at Indian Creek climbing the awesome sandstone cracks, and then headed into the La Sal mountains for a backcountry hut ski trip.

At the Creek

Me on an Unnamed Climb at Scarface Wall

The Beauty that is Indian Creek

Headed to the Top

The Hut

Destination: South Peak Summit (11,817 Feet)

Summit!

Packing Back to the Car

At the beginning of April, we headed back down to Indian Creek for what we hoped would be many days of climbing. Unfortunately, the forces of nature were working against us. Between 70 mph sand storms, rain, and snow, we didn't end up climbing nearly as much as we hoped. As plan B, we spent time riding our bikes and hiking in and around Canyonlands National Park. We also had a totally awesome time car camping and loving life.

Canyonlands National Park

Hiking to the Confluence of the Green and Colorado Rivers

The Confluence

Late Morning Breakfast Preparation

The Stunning Red Cliffs of Indian Creek

Dirty, Greasy, but Totally Free

NOT on Belay

Life is an adventure, and I am living it!

My Return

Hello! I have returned to the blogisphere from a long, extremely busy hiatus. Between school, work, buying a home, and traveling, I have let my blog slip by the wayside. I am now back, and I feel that I owe you all a story, an update, and lots of pictures.

The Story

About a month and a half ago, around Halloween, the death of my dad was becoming less of an abstract and more of a reality. I was thinking about him all the time, and hurting in a much deeper manner than I had before. The night before Halloween, as I was crawling into my bed, I had an overwhelming feeling that my dad was standing behind me. Although I'd heard of similar things happening to people after losing someone close, I had never personally experienced it before. I relayed this to Andy the next day, and he suggested that we borrow from the Latin and South American tradition of Day of the Dead and make an offrenda for my dad. In accordance with the tradition, we gathered a picture, candles, flowers, and made one of his favorite foods (monster--a surprisingly delicious mixture of almonds, peanut butter, honey, and dried fruit). Armed with these items, we made our way to the Provo River just below the spot where we scattered his ashes last July, and built a small alcove of rocks to house the offrenda. The cloudy gloominess that was Halloween 2008 matched perfectly the somber mood of the situation. As I expected, the tears started rolling down my cheek in the manner that has become all too common since his death. Andy wrapped his arms around me and held me close, and at that moment--at the height of my sadness--there was a break in the cloud cover, and a few lone sun rays found their way through. In a manner too significant to be coincidence, the light made it's way from the cloud break, directly through the trees, and rested squarely upon Andy and me. It touched me deeply, and I was soon feeling that I had found whatever reassurance I had been seeking. Andy and I walked back to the car, and as soon as we were inside with the doors shut, the break in the clouds disappeared and the light was gone.

The holiday season has been a very difficult time for me, and no matter what I do, no matter how hard I try, there is no replacement for my Davey P. In the past month and a half, I have thought a lot about the experience that Andy and I shared by the Provo River on Halloween. I have decided--there is no reason for me to feel the need to find a replacement. There is no hole in my heart, no piece missing. My dad is still very much a part of me. The part that he played in my life did not disappear when he chose to end his. I still miss my dad, that will never stop. When visions of my fatherless future pop into my head, it still makes me feel extremely sad. Despite this, it is reassuring to know that there have been and will continue to be moments when I feel connected and close to him.
The Update

I am now a homeowner! I closed on my condo at the beginning of December. Andy and I have moved in, and we are now comfortably established in our new home. It's been a stressful time with the moving and the end of the semester. The semester is over (yay!), and it's time to take a little break and try to relax. I'm headed out to Michigan in a few days to spend Christmas with Andy's family. I am really excited to see them again, and I'm sure I'll return with many more pictures and more updates and stories for the blog. Until then, here are a few pictures of our new condo. I hope you all have a very merry holiday season!

About the Music in My Mind (Some Surprise - Gary Lightbody & Lisa Hannigan)

Some Surprise

Your lips come as some surprise

That they would want to come and meet mine

They never taste like the last time

Your lips come as some surprise

I was always a special child

With circuit boards for my insides

And all I dreamed of was flying high

So your lips came as some surprise

Your lips come as some surprise

That they would want to come and meet mine

They never taste like the last time

Your lips come as some surprise

I was never one of the boys

Throwin shapes and power ploys

In your arms a warmth I did find

In your seed I did recline

Your lips come as some surprise

That they would want to come and meet mine

They never taste like the last time

Your lips come as some surprise

Now that we've sat for a while

You showed me yours and I've showed you mine

Even after all this time

Your lips come as some surprise

Your lips come as some surprise

That they would want to come and meet mine

They never taste like the last time

Your lips come as some surprise

Unexpected, yet head over heels...

Living from Love

Life is fragile, unpredictable, and absolutely beautiful. I met Andy Chapman five weeks ago, at a time when my life was still in a significant amount of turmoil. My heart was broken, and I was desperately trying to piece it back together. I was searching for solace and peace, and found it in a place I never even considered looking. Occasionally in life, we are fortunate enough to meet someone with whom we can immediately and lastingly connect. I feel like I've known Andy for years. Time spent with him is comfortable, calming, and exciting.

Two weeks ago, I received a call from the American Fork Hospital emergency room. It was the call that you never want to receive: "Hi, this is so and so from the emergency department at American Fork Hospital. We have an Andy Chapman here. He's been in a bicycle accident, and he requested that I call you." She then proceeded to tell me that he was being life-flighted to Utah Valley Regional Medical Center. As a trauma nurse, I know that when the word "life-flight" pops up in a conversation, it means that things are pretty serious, and they were. Andy was literally within millimeters of losing his life. Amongst his many injuries, he sustained a deep laceration to his neck that exposed his jugular vein. Had that been cut, he surely would have bled to death on the scene. Other injuries included a broken, displaced clavicle; T6-T8 anterior compression fractures of his spine; C3-C7 transverse process fractures of his cervical spine; and facial fractures involving his cheek and his orbital floor. He was taken immediately to surgery for repair of his neck and clavicle, and then spent a week in the hospital.

We have learned over the past two weeks that the driver that hit him was 78 years old and uninsured. He should not have been driving, and I have had a difficult time attempting to find some compassion for him. I would like to believe that he was sickened by what he did, and that he is now feeling some amount of remorse. I will probably never know for sure who he is as a person, or what he is feeling right now. Maybe this is fortunate because I can believe whatever I will about him. I choose now, in this moment, to believe that he was not acting maliciously, and that he does feel terrible about the consequences of his actions.

In the midst of these unfortunate circumstances--the loss of my dad, and Andy's bicycle accident--something beautiful has blossomed. I'm not sure how I feel about fate, but meeting Andy at the time I did makes me feel that maybe there is some merit to fatalism and predestination. Speaking for myself, Andy has stepped into my life at a time and in a manner that seems too perfect to be chance.

In my past, I have attempted to build walls around my heart. I have been guarded and standoffish, and hid these under the guise of fierce independence. With my dad's death, and Andy's close call, the fragile and fleeting nature of life has been thrust in my face. The most important lesson that I have learned over the past few months is to live life out of love, and to let go of fear.

For those interested in more information, both KSL and the Deseret News have reported about Andy's accident. Also, due to the lack of insurance on the driver's part, Andy's friend has set up a fund so that those interested can donate to his cause.

Cycles

It has been decreed: Fall is here! My heart is singing, and life in general feels really nice to me right now. The Earth moves in cycles. The leaves change color, fall from the trees, and nourish the soil that will yield growth again in the spring. My life moves in cycles as well. The rollercoaster that I have been riding for the past two months has transitioned into more of a steady climb. I am ascending from the deepest rift of sorrow on upward toward that highest peak we call happiness. I miss my dad, but his being gone has now become a part of my life. My dad, both in his life and his death, is fundamentally linked to the person that I am.

I am happy. I am content. I am excited to see what lies a little further down the road.

Trip Report: Backpacking the Ansel Adams Wilderness (Agnew Meadows to Thousand Island Lake)

I just returned today from a much needed break. Tuesday morning, I loaded up my pack with all the backpacking essentials, and hit the road. My trip began with a seven-hour solitary drive -- just me, my music, and the wide open road. I found it so calming, watching the road melt into existence as I sang (belted would perhaps be the more accurate term) along to my eclectic music mix. After seven hours, I arrived in Reno, and picked up my backpacking companion and good friend, Brian. We then headed out to Mammoth Lakes, California to begin our trip.

We packed from Agnew Meadows along the River Trail in the Ansel Adams Wilderness out to Thousand Island Lake (taking one short day hike to Garnet Lake), and then returned to Agnew Meadows via the Pacific Crest (High) Trail. The trip was good for me in so many ways, and I have returned feeling rejuvenated and full of determination and purpose. There is something about the vastness of the backcountry that can make a person feel so small, and at the same time so significant for being a part of it all. There truly are no small parts to play.

I think there is something to be said for "nature therapy." I began spending time outdoors at a young age (mostly at my grandparent's cabin, and then later on whitewater rafting trips), and because of this exposure I have developed a deep bond and love for the natural world around me. The three days that I spent immersed in these surroundings:

have done more to heal my aching soul than anything else.