"When I love myself it means that I love who I really am: a limited creature called to limitless joy; a fallible, finite being who can transcend sinful inclinations and seek the Infinite. It is this deepest part of self, this miracle of nature and grace, that I must esteem."
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"You gotta get your boots on the ground." - Paul Hoff My Uncle Paul just has all the good ones. This quote is wonderful because I feel like it really describes my personal philosophy on traveling. I didn't really think I had a philosophy when it came to traveling, but this summer showed me otherwise. I had the privilege of traveling a lot this summer. I flew over 6,000 miles to China. I road tripped to about 10 different cities in the month of July. My sister and I drove 60 hours to Glacier in Montana (60 hours, I kid you not). So yeah, I traveled kind of a lot. Other than realizing that I will probably never move out of Wisconsin for the rest of my life, I also realized something about how I travel.
I don't want to see it all, I want to see all of it, wherever it is. I travel to become immersed in a new place, a new culture. I travel to live in the smells and sights and sounds of a place, not just to check it off my list and move on to the next place. One of my good friends has a list of all of the cities he wants to go to in Europe and the incredible thing is, he will probably see most of them. I think that is absolutely incredible, but it isn't how I desire to travel. I would much rather spend a few days (or weeks if I'm lucky) in one city in Italy than go to Rome, Milan, Florence, and Venice. I want to be there long enough for the man selling the bread on the corner to recognize me. I want to be there long enough for the fruit stand guy to know that when I gesture "two" I mean two bananas, not two kilos of bananas. I want to be there long enough that I just know which buses take me where. So I think Uncle Paul has a point. I don't want to road trip across America, because I'd just do it to say I road tripped across America. I'd rather take a month in part of a state and really get to know it, the ins and outs, the dirty underbelly, the cheapest place to buy coffee (it actually took me 3 years to learn this in EC...), and what it means when all of the children get dressed up on a Sunday morning. I need to get out of my car, away from the tour buses, off of the trains, and get my boots on the ground. Ways I've enjoyed God lately... ...afternoon naps to the Sounds of Silence on Vinyl ...prayerful/tearful times with my mom about what's ahead ...getting loads of sleep ...radio silence, even when its not my favorite thing ...being totally and completely blessed in travel preparations, especially financially ...Jenna calling me on the phone and chatting with me ...the pink clouds at dinner ...chipotle blackened chicken wraps paired perfectly with I.P.A. ...finding olive green soft pants that make my legs feel like they're wearing clouds "Enjoy Me." Just these two words He spoke changed my life.
What a burden I thought I was to carry - a crucifix, as did He. Love once said to me, "I know a song, Would you like to hear it?" And laughter came from every brick in the street. And from every pore in the sky. After a night of prayer, He changed my life when He sang, "Enjoy Me." [St. Teresa of Avila] fiery grey memoriesmy firey red hair When unexpected things come into this world, into my life, they have a tendency to shake me. A troubled relationship, the anxiety of transition, the fear of the unknown, building and growing like a dark rolling thundercloud streaming towards today. But I know that being shaken does not mean being uprooted. Being stirred does not mean being torn from my ground. For I am rooted firmly in the truth, the love, and the surpassing grace of my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. "Fear no more the heat o' the sun; for the shock of Lady Brutin asking Richard to lunch without her made the moment in which she had stood shiver, as a plant on the river-bed feels the shock of a passing oar and shivers: so she rocked: so she shivered." -Mrs. Dalloway
I read the book Backwater over spring break. It had beautiful insights, as I think many preteen novels do.
Rules for the backwater // for life 1. Decide you're going to make it. 2. Use fear - don't let it use you. 3. God or Nothing: rely on Him in every situation. 4. Focus on the goal ahead. 6. Celebrate your victories, no matter how small. 7. Leave nothing behind but your footprints. 8. The wilderness teaches patience. Three years ago Tuesday, my dad passed away. That is actually what began me blogging in April 2011; I needed an outlet to remember and express and show others a glimpse of who I am, vulnerably. One of my mentors suggested I create a legacy for my father, recognizing how he is living on within me. As my mother stated, this is a living document, one that can be added to as time goes on and I come to a more full realization of the ways I was blessed to be the daughter and youngest child of Robert Zimmerman. This is one of my favorite photos of him. It brings me joy to see him interacting with his only son, teaching him (probably very particularly) how to paint. Of course, he is rocking the flannel and someone stuck my brother in a T-shirt that is larger than his body and it makes me smile. The Legacy of My Father
...He taught me that college isn't all about getting a major and getting out. He wanted me to travel, learn new and interesting things, and have experiences that help me to better understand others. ...He taught me to work hard, mulching gardens, cleaning windows inside and out, planting trees and gardens. ...He taught me how to rest and the importance of having slow mornings. ...He taught me sacrifice, spending weekends caring for his parents and waking up early on Sundays to spend time with my mom before any of us were awake. He was NOT a morning person. ...He taught me how to laugh heartily and wholly and that almost any situation calls for humor. Even funerals. ...He taught me respect, especially for the elderly, people with disabilities and their families, and the military. ...My dad gave me his stubbornness, which can be both a gift and a curse. ...He passed on his love of cooking and experimenting in the kitchen. ...I will take my family on fall hikes and on adventurous vacations because of my father. ...He taught me that Sundays are days for family. ...He instilled in me a love of biking, camping, and seeking mountains. ...My dad taught me about photography and gave me my first 55mm, but the greatest gift he gave me in this was his encouragement that I could and should pursue this art. ...He gave me his love of doing projects, though he always did them with much more patience than I have. ...He taught me to wear clothes until they had holes in them... and then to keep wearing them. ...He taught me to dress up and look nice as a way to celebrate and bing others joy, not as a way to draw attention to myself. Though he did tell me I looked beautiful every time I dressed up and sometimes even when I didn't. ...My dad gave me a love of flannel. He is wearing a flannel shirt in probably 80% of the photos I have of him. ...He taught me that after 7:00pm, you should always have curly hair. (Only my sister will understand this) ...He taught me the power of giving up personal desires for the benefit of those he loved, such as quitting smoking for good when I was four years old. ...Although it took until I was about 16, my dad showed me that it is good for men to cry. ...My dad taught me that sometimes forgiveness comes in it's best form just resting in the other's arms. Almost every day I think about eating fish tacos in Texas. I cannot even explain how much they mean to me.
One time I tried to see if Torchy's Tacos delivered to Wisconsin,,, I was severely disappointed. Last night, when I probably should have been paying more attention in my night class, I was looking up this one place that I got fish tacos on the river walk in San Antonio... and I found it right away. It's called Barriba Cantina and they make amazing fish tacos with chile-rubbed tilapia and chipotle slaw right on the side. I would literally go there right now and eat some if I could. My dream is to return to San Antonio, to walk along the beautiful river walk filled with cypress trees, alongside a dear friend in the hot weather with the promise of fish tacos for lunch. Remember how I said that I haven't been able to dream lately? That my future is a giant, scary, intimidating black hole? Well I got this email from Caribou today that had travel mugs that said "Dream Big" on them. And I thought, if a cliché, commercial mug from a corporation can dream big, why the heck can't I? So for each day in March (and there are 31 of those bad boys!), I will be blogging about a dream that I have. I will not let fear of failure keep me from imagining all that God can do in my lifetime. One dream that I have is to have dirty fingernails.
Dirty fingernails mean hard work. And dirt. I really like working with soil; it's something I've done my whole life. I grew up gardening on Saturdays with my family, regularly watering the plants in my room, and mulching my grandparents' flowerbeds every spring. If I could someday have my own vegetable garden that would be a dream come true. This summer, I am dreaming of spending the month of July as a helping hand on an organic farm or doing a farming internship somewhere in Wisconsin. If you know of any good places, let me know! I dream of having dirty fingernails. For those days when you're feelin' gloomy. Give it a listen.
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December 2022
I'm guessing I'll have it all figured out by the time I turn 30.
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