My family did a lot of outdoor things when I was little. We camped, we picnicked, we played in the water and we hiked. I specifically loved hiking because it was always an adventure. You never knew exactly where you’d end up or exactly what the path would be like to get there. You did know, however, that you’d need a little help to find your way. Most trails we hiked had trail markers for exactly that reason. It was usually some color of paint streaked onto a tree or some type of signage marking a certain amount of distance. Whatever the tool, its purpose was always the same - to ensure you didn’t get lost along the way.
I’ve been lucky enough to have many, many moments of clarity in my life. There have been periods in which I have felt whole and complete and passionate and ambitious. There have been periods in which I’ve known exactly who I was and exactly what I wanted. But now, nursing my newborn, training my toddler and growing a marriage in the midst, I sometimes find my head spinning in a dizzying fog. I’m not exactly lost, but I’m not always sure where the girl that began the journey is.
Earlier today I rummaged through pages of my old writings and as I read, I heard myself speaking. Words are my trail markers. When everything starts looking the same and I’m not sure I’ll find myself again, I just need the breadcrumbs to find my way back. Here are crumbs that lead me home today.
January 2018: The Dark Roast
I moved right outside of Seattle, Washington when I was 19 years old. For those who have experienced Seattle, you know that while there is no other place on earth with such a breathtaking view of Mt. Rainer, the city brings with it a type of cold that is truly hard to describe.
Now my move to Seattle wasn’t just right down the road; my move was across the country. I whisked myself from the sweltering south full of melt your make-up off your face days to the rainy northwest full of freeze the make-up on your face days.
You have to understand something about people that grow up in the south. For us, cold is a valid reason not to leave our homes. It’s kind-of like the equivalent of a tornado warning – just huddle safely together in a closet under the stairs until it passes. As a teenager I honestly believed toe socks with flip-flops were a comparable exchange for wearing boots on a cool, blustery day. Jackets seemed more like a fashion accessory than a means of not dying and snow was something to be obsessively photographed so that you could one day share stories with your children about the “blizzard of ‘93”.
Fast forward to an optimistic lover of the sun waiting for the bus under freezing mist on the Puget Sound, dressed in the warmest pair of crop pants she owned and you get a profound sense of desperation. I quickly got so desperate to be warm that I started heating mugs of water in the microwave over and over and over just so I could hold something reminiscent of heat in my hands.
I spent months vigilantly committing to my daily ritual of heating, holding and drinking mugs of hot water. I was a true water connoisseur. If someone needed to know the exact number of seconds to stick a hand crafted cup in the microwave for a result that was not too hot but not too lukewarm, they didn’t have to look any further than me.
Now, when you live in a cold location and sit around drinking mugs of hot water, your surrounding company eventually gets suspicious. While it’s fine to have a cup of refreshing cold water, a mug of almost boiling water is really just strange. My friends eventually found out what I was doing and suggested that I consider tea or coffee instead.
I couldn’t imagine it – drinking dried leaves & and burnt beans. These people had indeed become blind to their terrifying level of desperation. But, when you’re suddenly thrust into a world that can only be described as bone chilling, you get pretty willing to try things outside your box. And so, I decided to start with chai – black tea mixed with a blend of fall spices, warm milk and warm water.
Shockingly, it wasn’t terrible. It was almost even not bad.
And with that first cup of chai, the door was ever so slightly cracked to a future filled with a leafy, beany love affair.
I now live back in my sunny, humid, unfathomably beautiful southern home. But Seattle, in its chilling wisdom, not only wooed me into my ongoing love affair, but left with me some valuable life lessons that I’d like to quickly share with you:
1. Never mock the cold. Cold is an asshole and it isn’t afraid to punch you in the face. Respect it by wearing something other than toe socks.
2. When the season changes, change right along with it. You can’t be who you’ve always been when you are no longer where you always were.
3. You don’t become a connoisseur overnight. Change happens daily – one cup of tea at a time.
4. Be kind, but don’t be afraid to wear headphones on the bus. Need is endless but you are not. Help where you can and set boundaries where you can’t.
5. The cold can be excruciating, but that’s why we have blankets. Wrap yourself in extra layers when you’re facing the wind.
6. The adventure you start is never the adventure you get. Own that and you’ll never be disappointed.
7. Everyone is a teacher of something. Channel your inner namaste and open your eyes to the lessons around you.
8. Every once in a while, you get to see the mountain. Don't get so caught up in the day to day that you forget to look up. The view is spectacular.
9. Just because everyone else has accepted getting wet in the rain doesn't mean you have to. Carry an umbrella if you damn well please.
10. It’s the roasting that brings out the aroma and flavor that is locked inside. Don’t be afraid if you’re a dark roast. The dark roast is the most powerful.