Superwoman

"It sounds like you had a protective shield keeping you safe"

After Thanksgiving my whole world changed... not unlike it has changed in the past. People, places, and certain events open your eyes to new emotions when you're least expecting. And I certainly didn't expect it to happen while riding my bike home from a full day of work downtown at REI on the Friday after Thanksgiving, Black Friday.

My family, and friends here in Seattle, know that I've been riding my bike the 4.5 miles to and from work. I inherited the bike from a Taiwanese man that I have never met. He was a previous tenant of the house where I'm renting. He worked at the University of Washington last year, and when he returned to Taiwan left his bike in the back yard.

When I moved here, after returning to Seattle, my landlord asked me if I could prepare the backyard/house for winter by stacking chairs and moving tools to the shed. In the process I discovered the beaten up, unloved mountain bike. At first I thought it wasn't so shabby. It carried me the 9 miles I ride daily and allowed me to get to the grocery store and out to dinner with friends. But there were, as with most abandoned bikes, problems. In this bike's case there were major problems with the brakes.

Working at REI has it's perks and I was able to take my sad bike into the bike shop and have the brakes tightened. I knew this was just a temporary fix, and I hoped it would last until I could buy/find myself a new mode of transportation. My hopes were thwarted on Black Friday, when coming home from work I was hit by a car.

Saying that, even writing that, feels like a confession. Nothing traumatic has ever happened to me before, and at the moment I realized a car was going to hit me all I could think about was the momentum of my body, and the surprisingly slow rate at which I was tilting towards the ground. Once I hit the ground, I was back up in two seconds. My bike was in my hands and I was checking the brakes. I didn't even occur to me to check myself.

A man walking on the side walk had seen the whole collision. He ran over, asking me how I was doing-if I was ok. Nothing really made sense and I said, "I'm more worried about my bike, the brakes are broken." His response was, "I can fix the bike, you I can't fix." I insisted I was fine and that my bike was what was broken. When I met the man who had hit me I said, "nice to meet you.... erm.... maybe not..." The whole event is mostly a blur. The whole time I just wanted it to be over.

Once I was on my own again, walking my bike the few blocks back to my house I broke down. I was physically fine, but what if I hadn't been. What if he had been driving faster... what if there had been cars behind me... who would know what happened and who would let my family know the fate of their daughter. Over the next few days I stewed over these thoughts, and then finally I decided to contact the driver. After a few conversations and an emotional coffee shop exchange, we agreed that he would compensate me with money towards a new bike.

It's been a few weeks since we resolved the accident. But I still ride around Seattle thinking every car might make a simple mistake that endangers me. Who will tell my family. It's cliche, but true. Life is spontaneous, and too short to be restrained from doing what you want to do.

New Experiences

Put coffee in your oatmeal.

I have now been back in Seattle for two months!

The experiences of my last visit to Alaska still permeate my everyday reality. Anytime I hear Alaska mentioned I jump at the chance to reminisce about my time there and the beauty that is so hard to find anywhere else. The entire month of October I was in culture shock. After falling easily back into the intense routine of everyday life in Alaska, and driving for five days on the Alcan highway through some of the most remote country in the North America, arriving back in civilization with no home and no job was tough. A few gracious friends took me (disillusioned and struggling with modern amenities) in, and let me set up my tent on their back porch. They took me in even though they were dealing with bed bug scares and new house mates moving in! For this I am indebted to them.

As I once again dug into the challenge of re-acquainting myself with technological devices, I was able to secure a part-time position at the REI Seattle Flagship Store (2nd most popular tourist attraction in Seattle & rated one of the best place to find a date) working as a sales specialist in the men's clothing department. I also found a wonderful house in Greenlake just three blocks from my last Seattle home. There's even a vegetable garden to take care of out front!

Now I am fully assimilated back into lower 48 culture. But lately, because of a few interesting conversations and quotes from close friends, I have been thinking more about living in the present. Living in the present is tougher than you might think initially. It means letting go of worrying about the mistakes you made in the past, not worrying about the problems yet to come, and just letting the moments of your day sink in and happen without thought of consequence. I am so used to jumping from one place to the other and feeling the need to seek out my next adventure that I haven't been truly living in the present. I am finding that I have had a lot of amazing experiences over the past year or so, but because I've always been searching for the next job, or the next place, I haven't been able to sit back and appreciate the small moments.

So here's to the small moments and appreciating the things we take for granted. It's been suggested to me before, and now I think I am consciously going to attempt to listen. Put coffee in your oatmeal, boil it with the oats along with cinnamon, brown sugar and milk. Enjoy the sweat caffeinated experience-and mostly importantly- live the moment!