Trimming the Garden - Making Space to Grow

I spent a good portion of my academic career mulling over the roles man insists on playing with the world. It was first codified sophomore year by Mrs. DeGroat as Transcendentalism... Thoreau and the gang. I was excited by the notion that there was a binding energy within all things. That everything was "connected."
I think it was a fruitful concept for a lonely and ambitious adolescent. I spent the next few years dancing around the implications of Transcendentalism, soon to become Pantheism.
My peers and most elders now call me a man.
I no longer question my will to express, much like I am doing here.
I have accepted the blank stares and stiff silence of those that do not understand.
Because I have been loved by both sexes for my thoughts and actions. I have a circle that has shown me that it expects me to continue to keep going.
That is how I know that what was once a comfort, is still a comfort, but for a different reason that does not diminish its validity.

What do I mean?

Kaitlin and I are closing in on our fourth week in Kershaw County. We left the brutal summer behind last week in finishing the sapling extractions and pine straw laying.
Last weekend we had a get together to celebrate changes. Kristen will leave for the University of Frankfurt at the end of September, Kaitlin and I will leave for Colorado September 2nd, and I turned twenty-three.

Friends and family that have known and loved us from all points in our life were present. I will one day think of a new cliche for the, "this is not good bye, merely 'until next time'" but it is a fitting sentiment. I am happy that we have handled this transition in this way. Heart open, arms wide, with smiles.

I remarked to Kaitlin the other night that these moments are the reward for living boldly. A year ago we hinted timidly at our wildest dreams for our lives after graduation. So far, we're on track. A week from now, we'll set out on the next phase of that vision. Each day is another vote of confidence. Each evening by the fire, reflecting on our decision, we are bolstered. As dearly as we love our friends and family, the sky is dark here - we are isolated and happy.

Between the two of us and roasting sassafras we are both bare under the night and full of our loved ones. I hope that is enough to get us through anything. I hope that is the minimum we require. We do love everything else, but if that is all we get - we'll be okay.

Less than a week from now, we'll hit the road for Colorado - where aspen and fly fishing await.

It's just past two o'clock. The midday sun is on the decline and that means only about an hour before Kaitlin and I get back to the grind. No more hocking hummus and pita bread. No more refills, no more sidework, no more unreliable coworkers. It's just us.

We successfully made the "move" from Columbia to Lugoff. I say "move" because ten days later and we are still living out of our bags. We actually moved into my Sity's former home in Camden. Due to a bunch of technical mumbo-jumbo my parents were not able to settle the estate before we arrived (two days after in fact) - so thus, they were unable to move out of the house in Lugoff.

It hasn't been all bad. We have long been accustomed to the absence of internet and television, and better for it! We spent the first week getting organized, reading, sitting in the breakfast nook watching the day evaporate the morning fog. This is the life!

Then the work began. The process has been less than organized. We have been frustrated by the parochial way of making appointments - which is not to keep them. The plumbers, the carpet guy, the cable guy, people offering to pick up linens as donations, all have reneged on previously agreed appointments - some on multiple occasions. The sum has been a haphazard smattering of odd jobs that "need" to be done, but are not the top priority.

As I speak the carpet in the den is being stretched, enabling furniture from the house in Lugoff to be moved here. The plumbers are digging a new line to the sewer. Things are happening, but in the ten days that it has taken to get people out here to do work - we have been forced to scrounge for productivity.

We've been outside mostly. I recall Kaitlin's defeat almost two months ago, "Jack, I'm...hot" - Welcome to the Southland. But even I, who have been acclimated to this place over the last twenty-one years am struggling with the last few days. Moving furniture and reclaiming a wild lawn through triple digit heat over consecutive days has left us both depleted. And we've only just begun..

There is enough yard work and painting yet to be done outside that could last us well through the month. We've only recently become organized enough to work in the morning and evening (as we originally intended) - hopefully this will allow us to retain our endurance.

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In the downtime we have signed up for WWOOF. We received our list of farms in Chile and have mapped them out using GoogleMaps - so now we will read the descriptions and decide where we'll try to end up.

The trip is still months away though. I am very anxious for the last week in South Carolina when I can spend some quality time with my family. And then September 2nd when we begin our two weeks on the road. It will be another step closer. Another destination.

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Meanwhile, it is still the beginning of August and it is still getting hotter. The next ten days will be the real test. How long can we hold out before we start falling apart, whether it be physically, or emotionally, or both? I think we can do it. I am happy to be exhausted, to suffer blood blisters, and punctures from tools and shrubs. To be drenched in sweat before eleven in the morning. To see such a change come over the places that have always been so familiar to me. It is valuable work. There is real progress. We must be sure to step back in our exhaustion, to put our hands on our hips, and look at what we have done. This will remind us that our efforts are put to use and that we have more to give, more to create.

I always want to be able to do this. Whether it is to help raise a barn in Chile or to nudge an adolescent out of the nest onto the passionate winds of literature and sport. To experience motion in things.

View Trans-tectonics: Phase 1 in a larger map

Tentative drive to Denver. Seven to ten days - 4,500 miles - 14 states - 2 countries.

A year on the run begins in less than a week.
The apartment is bigger after bags of clothes have made their way to Goodwill, stacks of books are stored with relatives, and wall decorations are stacked in not-so-neat piles.

Kaitlin has left me for a few days to visit family in Denver that will be moving to Australia before we make our way out there. She'll be back on Tuesday and then we'll only have a handful of days to get the last of our stuff to the way station in Lugoff. For the next few days, I'll be putting things away. Packing up the last five years into a mobile heap.

We're ready to go. Before last week I had been pretty anxious about letting go. It's focus now though. The money is in and settled. Our possessions are limited. We have taken advantage of our last opportunities to experience this city. It has given us more than we ever asked for and I know that our gratitude has not gone unnoticed.

I'm excited now to look towards our time in Lugoff with my family. Kristen has gotten into grad school in Frankfurt, so she'll be leaving a month after I do. Neither of us are sure when we'll be able to get back home in the next two or six years. So, I find myself still unable to fantasize about the beaches in Argentina... I'm thinking more of big meals on the patio in Sunny Hill with my family and driving the kudzu backroads all day. I'm thinking about taking Kim to the park for soccer tutorials and swim meets and reading/lounging sessions.

For now..we'll just keep tyding up.

Return of the Endless Summer

Four years ago I spent a summer in Surfside Beach, South Carolina with a friend from school. I waited tables, slept, and surfed through the summer with an indulgent deliberateness. Each day I was committed fully to that day's task. Whatever whim struck me.

Some days we devoted ourselves to the sea. Leaving before the sun to catch the tide. Paddling naively into storms. Soaking in the lull. Whether the world brought us dolphins and rays or the perfect ride - we were in it with all that we could muster.

Still, some days we sat around the duplex past noon. Scheming.

And still more were spent in air conditioned chain restaurants accepting the masses' "travel money" to fund our loafing.

The double shifts both in the steakhouse and along the shore were consuming. With the rest of the world crowded out by longboarding trips, South American soccer matches, and general whimsy - the days shimmered under the heat, blurring from linear to indistinct.

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Four years later, I am able to entertain a return of the endless summer, a more endless summer. After four months of South Carolina's oppressive 100-110 heat indexes, Kaitlin and I will leave one hemisphere's summer in search of another.

I cannot say now what the South American summer will bring. But the prospect of a desolate punta with only my mind to fill it is carrying me off before we've even left the ground.

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As for the latest, we are nearing the "one month" countdown before we leave Columbia. Soon we must begin depossessing ourselves. Giving away clothes and other nonessentials we have acquired.
I am holding the line at two car loads of "stuff." Clothes, books, and kitchenware. Only what can fit inside the car and above in a rack for the drive out West.
After the next week it will be crunch time. The apartment will begin to disolve and then before we know it we'll begin the month-long renovation of my parent's home in Lugoff.
By the time we're comfortable in Lugoff we'll be in the car, headed for the Rockies.
By the time we're comfortable there, we'll be on a plane for Buenos Aires.
And so on... to where?

The Advent of the Pack

I am by no means an amateur in the realm of travel. My wheels are well worn by the heat and texture of the United States and Canada. My senses have taken in a continent of homes. Floated, flown, on foot, and flying down the interstate, I have traveled.

Yet still, there are more disciplines of travel to embark upon. That journey being just as relevant as any destination in South America.

The Backpack: The portable macrocosm. A microcosm.

Here I will describe "learning":

This trip would hardly be possible in its organismic legitimacy without Kaitlin's experience and direction. The utility of the Backpack being a prime example. In order to brace my enthusiasm with composed pragmatism a test run was necessary. Thus: "The Advent of the Pack"

Last week Kaitlin and I organized a day hike to Paris Mountain in Greenville, South Carolina with my sister. Because I was immersed in a string of double shifts, Kaitlin manned the packing (though it is a necessary art for me to eventually master). After my Sunday morning shift at the cafe we loaded the car and set out for Greenville.
While waiting for Kristen in the parking lot we limbered up with handstands, stretching, and various gymnastics (which is undoubtedly a beneficial new activity for me). Kristen arrived and after a brief snack pack we moved the gear to Kristen's car and left for Paris Mountain State Park.
Being less than thirty minutes from metro-Greenville, the park's water access was bustling with families in bathing suits and towels. However, our destination "Sulphur Springs" required a five-ten minute drive up the meager 1,000+ ft mountain to the trailhead.
At the trailhead we joined a handful of vehicles carrying mountainbikers and a hispanic couple returning from a leisurely nature walk.
In the lot, we began my first lessons in carrying a pack:

• Buckle the waiststrap, pull the strap to so the pack is snug to the hips, but not to the point of discomfort.
  
• Tighten shoulder straps so the pack does not shift. Again, not too tight.
• When climbing/extending, lock the knee so that the weight is dispersed evenly between the hips.

Five minutes up the trail, I'm feeling muscles being worked in ways I have never experienced. For a moment, I dread the three mile, "difficulty level 9" loop that awaits. However, the running dialogue between Kaitlin, Kristen, and myself helps to take my mind away from the physical.
The entrance to the trail is moderate enough for us to discuss a mesh of Ayn Rand, rational egoism, and general economic theory.

Body, Mind, ...

Eventually, the conversation pettered out and we entered into a new phase of the trek. From here, I say that I became very aware of myself. The muffled trod of our feet along the path and the occassional rustling in the trees and leaves were the only distractions from the rhythm we created.
For the next thirty minutes we spoke only in wonder at scuttling wildlife or warning of a perilous creek stone. Upon reaching the dam that secures Mountain Lake reservoir we marveled at our vitality. Sweaty, pulsing, and hardly fatigued.
Personally, the trail had offered a variety of obstacles in climbs and descents - trecherous and forgiving. A fairly thorough introduction to the disposition of the pack and its relation to my body.
The return (as always) proved to be the true test. I became conscious of the creeping fire in my lungs and thighs. Sweat leaked from my brow, sprung from my fingers, and pooled around my waiststrap. Still feeling power in me, I did not doubt my ability, but was dragged into feeling heavy.
Yet, the principles Katilin instilled held true and delivered me to the trailhead - soaked, but not sore.

I don't mean to sensationalize what was merely a jaunt in and out of the woods. However, the courtship of the pack is my purpose and a first date, no matter how tame, is worthy of examination.

Jack,