Finding Inspiration

While attending Canoecopia in Madison a few weeks back, I caught a sneak peak of the soon-to-be released documentary from Mary Catterlin and Amy Lukas. If you aren’t familiar with the duo, they hollowed out a cottonwood log – and sailed it around Lake Michigan. No small feat.

Laughs rippled around the room as the video played, the ladies light-hearted attitude effused from the screen. Mary and Amy augmented video from their journey with interviews filmed afterwards with themselves, family and folks who helped them along the way. The comments from the people they met were strung together with a thread of inspiration – how the girls’ undertaking had inspired them.

At the end of the video, the ladies asked everyone what their dream was. If two girls from Indiana with no woodworking experience could hollow out a cottonwood log and sail it around Lake Michigan, what’s stopping everyone else from attaining their dream?

The New York Times Magazine recently ran an article about Alex Honnold, one of the most famous rock climbers in the world, who also happens to not use ropes. Comments ensued about how he was endangering his life for personal glory or how he was contributing nothing to society. This article and the negative comments dovetailed with the recent acclaim for Tommy Caldwell and Tyler Jorgenson’s climb up the Dawn Wall, a sheer rock face in Yosemite never free-climbed before (using ropes only in the event of a fall). In an article celebrating their accomplishment, the comment field was littered with spiteful remarks: "Trying hard to be open-minded here, but I just don't get it." "What good does it do, ultimately?" "What has this climb done for OTHERS? Absolutely nothing." These commenters couldn't have been further from the truth.

Caldwell and Jorgenson spent years slowly working towards their goal. They didn't do it for self promotion or financial gain, they did it realize a dream. They spent countless hours planning how to achieve it and, by reaching the summit, pushed the boundaries of possibility. We could all aspire to work that determinedly towards a dream.

Jorgenson said it best: “I hope it inspires people to find their own Dawn Wall, if you will. I think everyone has their own secret Dawn Wall to complete one day, and maybe they can put this project in their own context.”

We don't have to hollow out a log and take it for a spin around a Great Lake or climb a route deemed impossible, but we all have dream trips and goals collecting dust in the back of our minds.

Perhaps the true mark of an adventure is what happens after. Does your trip inspire others to attempt and accomplish their dreams? Mary and Amy inspired the folks they met along the way. Shit, I walked away from their documentary inspired as all hell.

The greatest journeys do not end with the hero reaching the destination, but they live on through stories and your own personal connection with the journey. What is greater than pushing friends and strangers alike to achieve their dreams?

What’s your Lake Michigan in a dugout or Dawn Wall?

An Ode to Friendship

I went to school (for a few years at least) in Madison, building a raft of good friends through parties and chance encounters. As we aged, they moved further from downtown, into larger apartments and then into houses. Marriages, dogs and children followed, pushing my usual weeknight drinking and weekend concert routine to their periphery. Picking the kid up from daycare replaced happy hour drinks.

Should I have been looking for a girl and actually paying rent for a consistent roof over my head? Maybe (although I’m not sure my job at the time would’ve supported either), but I clung to my lifestyle even if it meant going to bluegrass shows alone or holding down the bar by myself on a Sunday afternoon, drinking bloodys. Have I done as much as I could to stay connected with my college friends? No. I feel bad about that. I didn’t adjust my lifestyle to better connect with those college friends and we drifted apart. I only see those folks once or twice a year; I used to sleep on their couches once or twice a month (or more).

My evenings changed on Valentine’s Day 2014. A girl I had met invited me to a pre-party for the Horseshoes and Hand Grenades show. It was Cupid’s day and I didn’t feel like going to the show alone. I showed up at a house I had never been to before, filled with people I had never met - a perfect Valentine’s.

The laughs and smiles that ricocheted through the house warmed and welcomed me to the scene. At the High Noon Saloon, the boys from Horseshoes enlivened the crowd and encouraged the interactions between my new acquaintances and myself. Concerts and other large gatherings of like-minded folks (especially when alcohol is involved) have a way of loosening conversation.

The following night brought Yonder Mountain String Band to town and another chance to further the burgeoning friendships I was forging. That night at the Orpheum was one of my favorite nights of 2014. The band, with Ronnie McCoury and Jason Carter sitting in, absolutely killed it. I floated from friend group to friend group with a smile too big for my face. That night still puts me in a happy place.

Those two nights, more than anything, set the stage for the year. I didn’t have to go to bluegrass shows alone and didn’t have to worry about where I was going to stay afterward. I had new friends.

As Valentine’s Day approached this year, I got sentimental and looked back at how lucky I was to have met my new friends. To commemorate the occasion, I invited the core group to a restaurant I had not been to – a pig in a fur coat.

Sam, Jesse, Katie, Jillian and I met beforehand for a few beers. We finished a growler and a 6er as folks relayed their day, speckled with laughter and the odd remark. With the beer gone, we bundled up and headed out.

The night was clear and crisp - February at it’s coldest – on the walk. Sparsely populated tables greeted us at a pig in a fur coat and we were seated shortly after grabbing a drink at the bar. My eyes got big when I saw the menu. I’ve led a sheltered life when it comes to food and this was my chance to break out. Meatballs made with bone marrow? Yes. Ravioli with a duck egg inside? Yes. Octopus? Yes. Foie Gras mousse? Yes.

We ate our way through what felt like half the menu, our stomachs filling with an ever-varying collaboration of animal parts. The only thing better than the food was the group of people surrounding me. It was a good night.

Friendship, even at its most intense and sincere can be ephemeral. Lives change and our routines fade from common arenas. That’s life. I’m not sure where my life will be next year or even in a few months, but I do know, when you’ve found something good, enjoy every minute of it.

Beauty is in the Eye of the Beholder

I’m sick of girls just seeing me as a piece of meat, only focusing on my looks. Why can’t they look past my beautiful, deep, hazel eyes and see who I am on the inside? I can’t help walking down the street without getting as many catcalls as Kate Upton. Seriously people, I’m a human being, not a piece of eye candy only there for you to gawk at. When I meet a lady for the first time and she catches a glance of my eyes, I have to turn my head or she will get lost in them and completely forget where she is. Try holding a conversation with someone who only stares at your well-rounded pair.

They say eyes are the windows to your soul, but I think they are more like curtains. When you stare longingly into someone’s eyes, all you are seeing is what color they are. It’s no different than looking at your dog’s eyes. You can’t actually see into an eye with your own eye, the iris and pupil does a great job of stopping your glare at the door. What happens when you look deeper into the eye in search for the soul? This.

The actual inside of my eyeballs

Not so sexy anymore, huh? (I don’t know, those veins get my blood going) These are from a trip to eye doc in November. I asked if he could email them to me and he responded that no one had ever asked for the photos before - their loss. If you were wondering, my macula's are perfect and so is the optic nerve.

When someone says beauty is only skin deep, believe them. It’s true.