03: Filling in the blanks

Last weekend, you’ll remember, we drove straight through Kansas. The moisture warped the pages of my datebook. We forced ourselves through rest stop calisthenics under an unrelenting sun and drank sweaty cans of iced green tea and, in the evenings, cold beers and heavy pours of white wine. The generator ran the air conditioner as we drove because it was the only way to keep the RV below 90 degrees Fahrenheit.

By Monday, we were at 7,700 feet above sea level in Golden, Colorado. We slept with windows open and woke up to black-out blinds tapping out the wind’s Morse code, the RV a cool 57 degrees, and socks and sweatshirts necessary to get out of bed. We took our morning hike (to 7,900 feet) with our hoods up, sipping hot coffee and searching out sunshine. Whatever we said to each other (especially uphill) had to be breathed out, a few slow words at a time, through the thin air.

And then this weekend: We crossed into New Mexico and the landscape over the state line seemed to change just as quickly as you imagine it does when you’re a child. At one campground, we drove over unpaved roads, kicking up dust behind us and coating the RV and car with a layer of light brown powder like Nestlé's Quik. Sunday, at almost 90 degrees, we sat outside a coffee shop in Santa Fe, and, for the first time in my life, I lifted an iced drink from a hot metal table on a summer afternoon, and it didn’t leave behind a ring of condensation. Not even a drop.

So, we’ve changed climates quite a lot in the past week. It’s a bit strange to realize just how much animal I am as I experience these shifts in temperature, relative humidity, altitude, and terrain. It's as much a physical adjustment as it is mental. Both he and I are nursing colds, popping Ricola and falling victim to, what I've dubbed, snee-zures (three or more consecutive sneezes), several times a day. [Ed. note: I just sneezed. Thankfully, only once.] What was curly hair this morning is now barely holding a wave. And lip balm applications since I opened my eyes today? Four and counting.

Through all this change, I’m finding myself eager for the next thing, the next adventure, the next travel day, the next location. I’m eager to grow accustomed to new license plate colors and to familiarize myself with the ways of this week's locals. I don't want to be a creature of habit—not when it comes to this. With every new state, new city, new humidity percentage, I’m eager for more. I could keep doing this, make a habit of exploring, stay rootless a while longer.

'Til soon,
Helen

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Notes from the week of September 6

CAMPED AT CHIEF HOSA

SPOTTED

+ American magpies
+ Western meadowlarks
+ more bunnies
+ more cattle
+ horses
+ deer

MEALS EATEN

+ three-bean chili
+ saag paneer
+ cherry naan (!)
+ fish tacos

LOCAL COLOR EXPERIENCED

+ Sherpa House
+ Lowry Beer Garden
+ North County

TRAILS HIKED

+ Chief Hosa Loop
+ Cold Springs Gulch Road

THINGS COLLECTED

+ pinecones of every size

BEVERAGES ENJOYED

+ shandys (the season is nearly over!)
+ pinot grigio
+ chai tea (the best of my life, at Sherpa House)
+ French roast (we keep swapping between this and Italian roast; I still don't know which I prefer)
+ Luzianne Orange Pekoe (we purchased the "family-size" tea bags accidentally, so I reuse each one three or four times, shhh...)

ATTRACTIONS BOOKMARKED FOR NEXT TIME

+ Garden of the Gods
+ Table Mountain
+ Red Rocks Amphitheatre
+ Rocky Mountain National Park
+ Estes Park
+ Coors Brewery (free samples, I hear)

FRIENDS/FAMILY VISITED

+ Abbie
+ Nicole

02: Remembering past curiosities & feeling them light up once again

I write to you from Interstate 70, somewhere between Topeka, KS, and the Colorado state line. There are patches of wild sunflowers growing along the highway, and their bright yellow is really nice, truly a welcome sight, because it breaks up the flat views of corn and grass (and more corn). It’s hot and bright (just shy of 100 degrees Fahrenheit) and largely tree-less out here, and “Staring at the Sun” by Simple Kid is playing on the radio. Last night I left my sunglasses in the cup holder in the car (which we’re towing behind the RV), so I’m squinting. Though it may be September, summer seems far from over, here, in the middle of the country.

Since embracing the questions and the discovery, I’ve noticed that a lot of the work I’ve long admired just so happens to be curiosity-driven. Many of you wrote to me about Weekly Findings, Issue No. 1, expressing a similar enthusiasm for staying open to the results of seeking—in your work, writing, and life—so, I thought I’d share with you three of my favorite curious people:

S T E P H A N I E  M A D E W E L L
Curator of the blog, Even Cleveland, Stephanie chronicles her weekly obsessions and curiosities in a matter-of-fact way—sharks, clouds, bees, tennis, rocks and minerals, you name it—posting visual evidence of her ongoing fall down the rabbit hole. Her exploration is continual and varied; sometimes it's music or fashion, and other times it's historical artifacts, obscure art, and scientific articles. This blog has been a huge inspiration for me for almost a decade now.

A N N  W O O D
Ann's art takes many forms, the most popular being her animal sculptures made from fragments of Edwardian day dresses and antique Japanese garments. "So much of my inspiration comes from these things I did not choose," Ann writes. And, of a long-saved, now-wrinkled magazine clipping that's prompting her next project: It's "a daily reminder of the good and unexpected things that are just around the corner." Her yearlong sketchbook practice is the best thing to look through if you're feeling creatively stuck or tangled in the ropes of perfectionism. ("Wouldn't it be nice to spend a couple weeks just messing around with stuff you haven't tried?" she writes in the post for Week 22. Yes, Ann! YES.) I could pull inspiration from her all day long.

S O P H I E  C A L L E
French writer, photographer, installation artist, and conceptual artist, Sophie's work was introduced to me in a documentary photography class in college. Immediately, I purchased Suite Vénitienne/Please Follow Me, and my love affair with her work began. (Just in writing this to you, I'm feeling pulled to reconnect with the magic of that book.) Do yourself a favor and take a voyeuristic journey through Sophie's work. Talk about someone who follows her curiosity!

'Til soon,
Helen

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Notes from the week of August 30

CAMPED AT KANSAS CITY EAST KOA

SPOTTED

+ bats (at the baseball stadium)
+ lots of bunnies
+ a yellow python (draped around a man's neck in downtown Kansas City)
+ cattle, naturally
+ horses
+ ducks
+ giant goldfish

LOCAL COLOR

+ Kansas City Royals baseball game (vs Detroit Tigers)
+ First Friday in the Crossroads Art District
+ Kansas City Workhouse (a boarded up castle with a wild history)
+ Loose Park Rose Gardens
+ Swope Park (the site of my very first home!)

MEALS PREPARED & EATEN

+ zucchini & sweet corn hash egg skillet
+ fried eggs & toast

BEVERAGES ENJOYED

+ orange-mango juice & prosecco
+ Italian roast
+ passion iced tea
+ pinot grigio
+ shandys

ATTRACTIONS BOOKMARKED FOR NEXT TIME

+ The Majestic Restaurant & Jazz Club (I really want to hear the Hermon Mehari Trio)
+ Leila's Hair Museum (allegedly features hair from the Virgin Mary)
+ The National Museum of Toys & Miniatures
+ Fantastic Caverns
+ Worlds of Fun & Oceans of Fun Amusement Park

01: Let's try this again

Things look different around here, I know. By its definition, 'identity crisis' is an apt description of what I'm going through, but I'm embarrassed by how dramatic that sounds, so we won't call it that.

Truth is, I’m a little lost right now. Thankfully, not in my travels—those are going swimmingly (I begin this missive from a pleasant, grassy rest stop in rural Illinois, an 18-wheeler parked on either side of us and an official sign straight ahead that reads: AFTER 11 HRS DRIVING YOU NEED 10 HRS REST)—but in a bigger picture sense. There’s so much out there for folks seeking life coaching. And a lot of it is really good. The blogs, the podcasts, the e-courses and e-books, the retreats. Now that I’ve gotten my sea legs in the actual art of coaching, I have to ask myself: What do I want to offer and how will I offer it in a way that reflects who I am?

From the beginning, those questions stumped me big time, but I pushed through. I wrote an offerings page and a bio for my website and kept things simple. This is what beginner coaches do, I reasoned. Start with all the things you're supposed to do, the things everyone does. I tried my hand at conventional coach-y type blogging, writing a few posts that felt safe and good, and I made corresponding graphics for Instagram and Pinterest. This will feel like 'you' soon enough; just keep at it. In a drought of inspiration or energy, I played with fonts; I moved things around on my website; I added and subtracted backgrounds and rejiggered the layout, satisfying myself for short bursts until I got restless again and needed to change something else.

This is what we do when our clothes don't fit. We fidget and adjust, pulling and tugging at the thing, unable to sit still. Sometimes, we even decide it's our body's fault that the garment doesn't look or feel right.

A few weeks ago, I waved my white flag. I didn't want to do it anymore. It didn't feel like 'me' and I didn't suspect that would change, no matter how long I kept up the act. So, I scrapped the website and strategy that felt like someone else's clothing, and I tried to listen. (That was after I cried and fretted and read a book on finding your life's calling, because, you know, I was pretty sure I'd gone down the wrong path in thinking I could start my own coaching business, i.e. something was wrong with my body, not the fit of the clothing.)

And then I remembered curiosity.

Curiosity is magic because its success depends only on the act of seeking (and an openness to the findings). It’s what I do when coaching: I wonder, I ask questions, I guide another in considering overlooked possibilities. Almost everything else in life is tied up in results. Striving. Arriving. Achieving. But curiosity is more open-ended and easeful, and it allows plenty of room for digging deeper and playing with variables.

So, a curiosity coach? Yep. That's what I'm aiming for now. I'm not so sure what it means, but stay tuned; I'm finding out a bit more with each passing day.

Curiously yours,
Helen

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Notes from the week of August 23

CAMPED AT CUIVRE RIVER STATE PARK

SPOTTED

+ hummingbirds
+ deer
+ frogs
+ blue-tailed skinks
+ owls (one was standing in the middle of the road when we drove back to camp one night; others, we heard in the night)
+ far too many large spiders (one is hanging on the driver's side mirror at present)
+ tick (tweezed off my belly)

MEALS PREPARED & EATEN

+ summer veggie omelette (turned into more of a scramble when I messed up the flip and decided to just roll with it)
+ roasted vegetarian tacos w/ avocado cream and feta (feta seems strange, I know, but it's perfect)
+ spinach & black bean quesadillas (we pulled out the George Foreman for these)

FRIENDS MADE

+ older couple from Missouri with a dog named Hank
+ camp host with a dog named Watson
+ mom and son from Wisconsin, Christine and Matt
+ middle-aged couple from Missouri, Sarah and Joe

TRAILS HIKED

+ Blazing Star
+ Mossy Hill
+ 118 stairs down to the lake and back up

BEVERAGES ENJOYED

+ whiskey sours
+ French roast
+ shandys
+ rum jumbie
+ lime pomegranate iced green tea
+ salted caramel cold brew coffee with almond milk (tried on a whim when spotted in the grocery)

ATTRACTIONS BOOKMARKED FOR NEXT TIME

+ Mark Twain's boyhood home
+ Phobius Haunted House
+ City Museum

FRIENDS/FAMILY VISITED

+ David