Siouxon Creek Trail

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In late June, 2020, I emerged from months of sheltering in place, due to the coronavirus pandemic, and ventured out into the Gifford Pinchot National Forest, in SW Washington State. It was a beautiful, sunny, 80 degree day, with a light breeze. The forest service road to the trail head was mostly paved, but full of giant potholes and rough, slow-going sections. This was a part of this forest I had never been to, but had seen photos and had heard about it’s spectacular beauty.

The trail was gentle and meandering, as it followed a crystal clear river and was punctuated by magnificent waterfalls along the way. Salmon berry were beginning to ripen and I imagined that by the following week they would be prolific throughout the area. Although with the number of people hiking the trail, it was unlikely they would last long. There was a near constant stream of other hikers and backpackers; many families with children making their way towards camp-sights along the river’s edge. We spent much of the hike moving off the trail to give people space to pass, as we feel that it’s important to follow social distancing guidelines, even when in the outdoors. Most people seemed appreciative and many people even wore masks as they hiked. It was a reminder that even in the restorative beauty of this place, the reality of what was happening in the world today could not be ignored.

These are hard times for everyone. My own sense of self and the ways in which I interact with the world have been disrupted and changed. My work, my studies, and community have all been thrown into chaos. And there is also this constant undercurrent of uneasiness and disquiet, even when doing simple things like making dinner or going for a walk. It often feels like nothing makes sense anymore and that I am just going through the motions of life, despite them feeling inconsequential in this moment in time. But, nature is a good anchor. It reminds me that I am of this world and that I can find myself again in these places. Life makes more sense here.

My Very First Trail “Run”

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About two years ago I decided that I wanted to start running. I was in my mid thirties and office work was keeping me more sedentary than I would have liked. I hated going to the gym, and was not a particularly athletic person, but I did love being outside, so running seemed like a potentially good fit.

My first two years of trying to learn to run were pretty rough. I generally walked most of time and making it a full mile seemed way harder than it should have been. Progress was slow at best and over and over again I gave up, only to try again a few weeks or a few months later. But, this past winter something changed. I started to make it a full mile without stopping and once I hit that mark, my times started improving. I went from being proud of a 13 minute mile to doing 11 minute miles, and then just a few months ago I ran two miles at a 9 1/2 minute pace. Things were looking up!

 

I then decided to sign up for a 5K. My goal was to run the whole route without walking or stopping and to do it at a 13 minute a mile pace. The route ended up being supper hilly and HARD. But, I completed the 5K at a 12 minute a mile pace without needing to stop! I was unbelievably proud of this small accomplishment.

 

Which brings me to today. My partner and I have decided that we want to start trail running and with my new ability to make it further than a block, I finally felt ready to give it a try. So here is my first attempt at trail running! We made it about 6 miles through Forest Park in Portland, OR. Much of the route was in great shape, but parts were supper muddy and slick. We ran and walked and stopped to smell the flowers. It was really more of a meander with some running involved. There was a light, but lovely Northwest rain falling the whole time and we ended our run wet, muddy, and very happy! I was totally exhausted in the end, but I think I may have finally found a way to exercise that I love!

 

 

 

A Walk to North Portland: Poetry, Spring Flowers, and Empty Streets

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I always find it interesting how many people will drive long distances to go hiking, but many of those same people won’t walk long distances in their own cities. For me, most of inner Portland can be accessed on foot, and I think that a two, three, four, or even eight mile walk across the city is a wonderful way to spend the day. Of course I love being out in wild natural areas too, but if one never walks from place to place in the urban expanses in which they live, they may never truly know the place they call home.

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As I walked across town on this beautiful late winter day, I was particularly struck by how empty the sidewalks were. There were plenty of cars zooming down the roads, but relatively few people out and about on foot. It’s one of the strange things about walking in a city where so many people drive. I can be out in broad daylight in one of the most idyllic neighborhoods, with gorgeous old houses, and towering trees, and not see another person for blocks at a time. I often wonder where everyone is. How could I be the only one person in this spot at this time when there were millions of people living across the city? Where was everyone? Sometimes I will walk at rush hour and watch as people in cars inch their way down the road, angry and frustrated, while I am the only person walking on the empty, but beautiful and perfectly functional sidewalk. I wonder where they are going that driving seems like such a good option? If they are on a city street instead of the freeway, it can’t be too far. I wonder how many of those people just don’t know that walking is an option and one that would make their lives so much less painful.

 

Garden Crabs
Garden Art
Yard Art

Along my walk, I came across so many curious and beautiful things; friendly neighborhood cats, six poetry stations, colorful murals, endless yard signs, and beautifully landscaped gardens with abundant and fragrant, early spring flowers. I wandered around without any set route and discovered streets and places I had never been before. The whole walk was about four miles and took me a little over an hour. A perfect way to spend the afternoon, with lots of time to think, reflect, and wonder about the world around me.

 

Poem
Poem
Poem
Poem
Poem
Poem

 

Neighborhood Cat
Neighborhood Cat

 

Empty Sidewalk
Mural
Crosswalk
Mural
A rare place where cars can’t go
Failing St. Pedestrian Bridge
Failing St. Pedestrian Bridge
Over I-5
Bike Route
Pedestrian Overpass

 

In Our America Sign
Bee Friendly Garden Sign
20 is Plenty #visionzero

 

 

 

The Perpetual Vagabond is Back!

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Hello Dear Readers!

I began this blog in May of 2011, while reading Julia Cameron’s book, The Artist’s Way, a book about discovering or recovering our creativity. At that time, I was not only unaware of that fact that creativity was something I had lost, but I also came to understand how that loss was impacting my life. Creativity is not something we do, it is how we express ourselves, how we come to understand who we are, and ultimately how we make meaning in the world. Without an outlet for meaning-making, humans can find themselves feeling empty, hopeless, and without purpose; in May of 2011, this was how I felt. Stumbling upon this book about recovering something so fundamental to existence, and yet I hadn’t realized was missing, completely changed my life. Inspired to overcome my fear of failure, rejection, and self-doubt, I crafted my first blog post and put it out for all to see. Of course at the time few people were there to hear my words, but the simple act of hitting “publish” on something that was personal, vulnerable, and of my own making, was liberating. I started slow, with a few poems and some photos. I was searching for my voice and what it was that I hoped to say to the world. Eventually, I decided to start travelling and used this blog to share my experiences. I embraced my namesake and found my voice as a vagabond. However, constant travel was limiting in its own way, and in that process I found that being a vagabond is more a state of mind; a way of approaching the world with curiosity and wonder. I now tend to wander about through my neighborhood and local parks, all the while exploring the world through my senses and trying to understand what my surroundings have to teach me.

My goal in the coming months and years, is to repurpose this blog with an eye towards depth, emotion, and embodied explorations. For many years I have shared my various adventures, but I have paid less attention to the more meaningful aspects of each journey. I have shown beautiful pictures, but rarely offered deep wonderings or insights. While I may have started my creative journey seven years ago, I have really only scratched the surface of what’s possible. If I am to truly live a creative, meaningful life, I must now start to peel away the layers of superficiality and begin to explore in more thoughtful and purposeful ways. I know this won’t be particularly easy, but I hope that it’s worthwhile. I would like to thank each of you that have followed me over the years and I look forward to your continued feedback and support.

With love,

The Perpetual Vagabond

Long Walk

 

 

Grief, Love, and Remembrance

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A few days ago I found myself standing in front of the memorial for the victims of the racist, violent attack that happened last week on a MAX train in Portland. I stood there and cried, while other people did the same. Portland has always been my home, but standing there made me feel like I was somewhere else, in a place I didn’t know, even though I knew in my heart that it is very much this place, that led to this attack happening. This made it all the more painful. We have not done enough. I have not done enough. This incident has put a spotlight on the legacy of colonialism, racism, and white supremacy that is alive and well in our community and in our country. As long as hateful people can see their views reflected and held up in our society, these acts will continue. We must do more. I must do more. But, too many people claim to have the answers; claim to know the one righteous path forward. There is a general lack of humility and refusal to listen, that is pervasive is the current dialogue. Our community feels like it is both coming together and breaking apart all at once. But, I believe that there are no simple answers and I rarely trust those who claim to have them. Humans are more complicated than that. We live in both a causal condition, while also constantly striving towards free-will. Until we can recognize both the causality of our lives and our personal responsibility to act morally and ethically, we will continue to spin in circles of violence and extremism; of righteous self-indignation that leads to discord and the disintegration of compassion for others. We must start using love and empathy as verbs, not slogans. We must start listening, start seeking to understand that which makes us uncomfortable, and working to actively dismantle oppressive systems and ways of thinking that are woven into our culture. I am heartbroken that this happened and I grieve for the families who lost loved ones and those who were traumatized by this act of terror in our community. But, I will also continue to have hope knowing that most people are good people and that together we can work to make this world a better place for all.

 

State Testing: A Poem

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State Testing: A Poem

When you make State Testing

Two weeks long

And feel like prison

It becomes clear that a test

Is more important than my learning

Like something I deserve  

Because I am not good enough already

When I get detention for acting out

Because I am sad

My home is falling apart

I am hungry

It becomes clear that rules

Are more important

Than me

Than my dreams and aspirations

Than this pit that grows in my belly

And makes me want to scream

When you tell me

Through daily repetition

Of the importance of grades

My worth gets tangled up in abstraction

I learn that failure is inevitable

That I am worthless

Top students get praised

I get scolded

Words that burn

On top of scars

That are now my identity

Words that follow me

Everywhere I go

When you make sitting in class

More important

Than living life

I never learn to live

And I never live to learn

Oly Fall 2014-4