Hi, again. It’s very odd to write a blog post after taking a surprise two year hiatus. Life got very busy at that time. To give a cliffnotes summary, I returned to Olympia after the summer away (and have spent a handful of summers here since then). I began a beautiful blooming relationship with my partner Felix. I began my work with Olympia Books to Prisoners, which could (and probably will) be an entire blog post of itself. I underwent the most stressful move that to be honest I may still be recovering from. I expanded my small business with the help of Felix, renamed it Trillium Creations, and began vending at many, many local art markets throughout the years. I graduated college! I left my job at the most wonderful preschool to pursue “bigger and better things” but I have a feeling in my heart I will return. I worked for the Conservation Corps this past summer and had the time of my life doing manual labor in the most beautiful places I’ve ever seen. I began a new job as a para-educator for an elementary school, and have been working there since.
I can understand if all of that was a lot to take in– and that’s just the highlights! I remember my dad telling me that his twenties were some of the busiest and most formative years of his life, and that is ringing true now. Although, I suppose if I wrote this blog at 5 I would claim that my early childhood had been my most significant years. And maybe I would be correct. To all those who have stuck with me during these beautiful and dramatic times, you are golden.
My inspiration to restart this blog has ignited from a variety of sparks. One being my family’s almost monthly inquiry “When are you going to write another post?” To that I have to admit, I have begun to write many, but was unable to finish for a million reasons, all of which seemed like great excuses at the time. Maybe it’s the new year approaching, but I am hopeful that this attempt will be successful- and if you’re reading this, it means it was.
My biggest push however, was Christmas Eve. We were at my Grandparents house in Arizona, going through boxes of old things my Grandma was clearing out. One of the items was a blue folder, and inside were printed out copies of a blog my mom wrote when I was in the throes of MG and Graves disease as a toddler. I had always heard of the blog, but had never seen the writing before. Two years worth of beautifully personal writing by my mom, about me, printed out and cataloged by my Grandma. It was truly amazing. I poured over the papers that night, sharing the best parts out loud. My mom’s writing was so honest and heartbreaking and hilarious. As a child that young, I did not fully grasp what it meant to have such a condition, let alone the impact it had on my family. Even now, I still feel disconnected from that time, despite having a handful of chronic health troubles that likely stem from my past diagnoses and treatments. Reading my moms recounting of myself as a four year old was so magical. A similar magic I feel when I read old diary entrees, or previous posts on this blog.
Who am I to deny future Lilah that magic?
I realize that one of the major factors holding me back from restarting this blog was how much I would have to fill in for the years I was MIA. But my blog is not for strangers on the internet, it’s for people who know me. Hence the first paragraph of this post. A cliffnotes version of the last 2+ years. It doesn’t have to include everything. If I want to write about any of the aforementioned events in depth, I will. But I don’t have to.
As the new year approaches and arrives, expect more posts! They might not be long. They might be very long. But they will be here, and that’s what matters.
It’s hard to believe that a year ago the thought of my departure from my parent’s house in Oregon to the dorms at Evergreen State College in Washington was looming over me like the shadow of a threatening thunderstorm. Now, as I sit cross-legged on the floor of my childhood home after returning from my first year of college, that version of myself a year ago seems like an entirely different person. I was terrified, anxious, and unregulated. High school hadn’t been fantastic for me, and the thought that college may be even worse made me apprehensive even to try.
Song of the Fall
The first quarter at Evergreen felt like a culture shock. Coming from Bend, Oregon, a town that is expanding like an old barrel filled with water. A town built from lumber, the only town where trees sink and rocks float, and the remnants of volcanic eruption line every road and yard. A town surrounded by conservative Eastern Oregon, where lifted trucks flying flags roll coal at me as I walk along the roadside, and the people inside shout words I dare not repeat. A town surrounded by beautiful waterways, rolling hills, cinder cones, and towering mountains that attract every millennial in a 1,000-mile radius who has a bike rack on the back of their Subaru Outback and spends the weekend exploring micro-breweries. Coming from Bend, Oregon to the woods outside Olympia, Washington to an eco-brutalist school smaller than the population of my high school. A school where the majority of students have hair in shades only mantis shrimp can fully experience. Where ravens follow you to class as long as you follow them into the deep expanse of the Evergreen woods afterward. Almost immediately, this bubble of green started to feel like home.
I began trying to learn everything I could about the land I was now living on. Who lived here before? Who lives here still? What about the plants? The animals? The water? My classes at Evergreen proved to be an integral stepping stone on my journey to understanding (a journey I am still very much only at the beginning of). Through studying, exploring, and experiencing, my sense of place increased. Almost every day after working at the on-campus childcare center I would walk a trail I could soon complete with my eyes closed to Geoduck Beach- the strip of rocks and mud that line the section of the Puget Sound Evergreen resides on- and scour for quartz, jade, and agates. Every Friday I would carpool about half an hour outside of Olympia to a Victorian-style cabin in the woods where my herbalism mentor lives. My peers and I would drink tea, and learn about the medicinal and spiritual significance of plants we would begin to recognize as our friends. Through academic research, firsthand experience, and a greater understanding of my innate connection with the land, both biotic and abiotic, my connection with the land I was only increased exponentially.
Winter quarter was when the storms really began. Herbalism class focused on medicine making. Warm next to the wood stove we created medicines to aid us during the coming cold, wet months. Days spent baking warm treats with friends as rain pounds the window outside and wind snatches tree branches and downs spindly alders. The sun begins to set at 4 pm, and it’s dark as I walk home from work, leaving no opportunity for expeditions to the beach. A cold settles into my bones, and I begin to realize that no matter how much I try to dry off, it’s like the damp lives inside my lungs. I’m sick a lot, but I’ve heard that’s normal, all my friends seem to be sick as well.
Song of the Winter
While this weather may seem abysmal, I’ve always discovered I thrive during the cold, wet, dark days. My creativity was bursting, and I needle-felted more than I ever had in my life. I also met a new group of friends, and soon I was spending every night at their dorm, cozy on their couch. If the fall quarter was about introducing myself to the land, the winter quarter was about introducing myself to the people who live on it. Friendships strengthening, and new bonds are being made, full of warm tea, warm food, and warm feelings.
When colonizers first came to the Sound, they mistakenly believed the Coast Salish people were lazy. In their long houses and great big houses, tribes would swap stories, share songs, and create artwork during the winter months. Because of their understanding of the land, they recognized that winter was a time of stories and creation. Because of how harsh the weather can become along the sound, spring, summer, and fall is when all the preparatory work takes place, all in harmony with the rhythm of the salmon returning to the rivers. Having lived along the Salish Sea for winter, I understand the need to hunker down with the people you care about during the winter months more than I did living in the dry cold of Bend. When the weather begins seeping into your clothes and into your skin, the need to warm your heart with good food, good friends, and good art becomes unignorable.
And soon, the sun began reappearing. Going weeks at a time without even catching a glimpse of the sun is almost unthinkable in Central Oregon. It’s difficult to go longer than a day without the sun showing its face here, even during the cloudiest weather. The feeling of a beam of sun filtering through your blinds in the morning after being greeted by a gray sky for the past half month is an unexplainable one. In that moment when its light graces your face, you feel as though you too, are a part of the sunbeam. For me, the first glimpse of the sun halfway through March left me feeling shaky and light-headed. It was at that moment when I realized I should probably start taking vitamin D supplements more regularly.
Song of the Spring
While my woods explorations definitely didn’t stop during winter, they did become less frequent. Unable to visit every day, I would settle for only crossing the treeline a couple of times a week, each chance for a couple of hours each. But now, as the green began returning full force, I found myself unable to stay away. I will admit, there were several occasions when the sight of blue sky outside the window in the lecture hall enchanted me to such an extent I would leave class early to sit by a stream, walk barefoot through the duff of maple leaves, or climb trees in the Evergreen woods. I had never seen so much green in my entire life, and its spot as my favorite color has never been more affirmed than when I walked through a jungle of towering Bracken Ferns that were small fiddleheads a few days before.
Friends and I would spend days at lakes, picnicking surrounded by daisies and dandelions, lounging by streams, and walking along shaded paths into what feels like another world. I don’t think my heart has ever felt as full as it did when I was walking barefoot through the Evergreen woods on a green, spring day.
But May becomes June, and Spring becomes Summer. Half of my friends are still in Olympia, and half have dispersed back across the country until the Fall brings us all together again. I’m still looking up every plant I see that I don’t recognize. I’m still walking barefoot every chance I get (although, the lava rocks do tend to make it difficult). And I’m still talking to my friends as often as I can. June becomes July, and I know before I can fully process being back in Central Oregon, I will be in Olympia again come August. But for now, I am content eating dinner with my family every night. Seeing my brother before he moves to LA in a month to play for the Junior Kings. Being greeted every morning by the smiling face of my sweet dog, and the warm hugs of my parents. I can say confidently I am incredibly happy with how my life has turned out this past year, and I know that Lilah a year ago would be so relieved to hear that.
The sun begins to linger longer high in the sky as time moves forward. Branches lengthen with green new growth. The sky is so blue, the air is so warm. Springtime has crept up on us! And what a wonderful time it is. I’m finding I greatly neglected the importance of the sun when I lived in Central Oregon. Even during winter months, the sun was a near-constant presence in the sky, peeking out regularly to check on the people trudging through the snow. In Washington, I’ve witnessed a week go by without any news from our closest star. This past week, the first few days of spring, however, have been much different. The sky is so blue! So endless and so bright. I didn’t realize how much I missed the color until it returned to me, and I felt my heart ache under the strain of all the joy I was feeling.
The winter quarter, like the short dark days, has come to an end. And in the spirit of endings, I’m obligated to do one of the activities I enjoy the most- reflection! (Thanks, Realms Middle School.) You can find the original goal-setting post here, and my fall quarter reflection here.
Friendships
The goals I had involved both new and old social interaction
Making friends with all of my dorm mates
In the fall, I had resigned myself to the idea that the connections my dorm mates and I made over the internet exactly a year ago simply didn’t translate well to in-person connection. However, in the winter quarter, I spent more time with my roommates and had an amazing time. One of my roommates and I (and some other friends) have gone to Seattle together twice in two weeks! We’ve also bonded over our love for the outdoors, and enjoying the sunshine. It seems all that was needed was a little more time, and openness to new experiences on my part. This quarter has taught me that sometimes there’s no need to rush and categorize things. Situations will develop over time, and instead of writing something or someone off immediately, it can be so much better to give opportunities and people the chance to grow.
Making friends with the people in my classes and herbal apprenticeship
I have yet to start my spring quarter classes, so the jury is still out on how developing friendships with a group of new people will go, but over the winter quarter, I was able to branch out even more in my classes. My classmates and I made a ritual out of going to the climbing gym every Monday and watching all of the Studio Ghibli movies together. Having these designated times to hang out and get to know each other has been very helpful in my feeling of connectivity at the college. I’m going to miss seeing some of the people in my class almost every day, but I hope that our traditions will continue!
Keep in contact with my friends back home
Winter quarter was extremely busy, but I did my best to hold my old friends back home close to my heart! One of my oldest friends, Noe, even came up and visited right before finals. The visit was a bit stressful simply because of the workload I had at the time, but I was able to remind myself that homework is only homework, spending time with friends I love is much more important- and we had a really good time. I’m hopeful more friends will visit me before the school year is over, but even if they don’t I know we’ll keep in contact. I call Maggie almost as much as I call my own family (a family she is a part of in practically every way besides blood) and I look forward to those calls with her all throughout the day.
Caring for myself
Goals I designed to ensure I would be happy and healthy in the new space
Keep my room organized
I’ve gotten into a very effective schedule for room cleaning by following a fairly simple rule: if a task can be completed in under two minutes, do it immediately. So many tasks I’ve constantly put off can be done in such a short amount of time! And getting them done right away helps ease the stress and anxiety both of having a messy room and of not completing what I need to. When you break down cleaning into small steps, every task begins to take less than two minutes and becomes so much easier to tackle. Tackling the tasks one at a time becomes even easier by asking myself this question- what task which, if done first, makes all the other tasks easier? Sometimes that will be simply changing my clothes into something more comfortable, or sometimes that means cleaning the most distressing part of the room first.
Eat healthily and regularly
Honestly, one of the main factors contributing to my healthier and more regular eating is Safeway upping their prices to the point where shopping at Trader Joe’s (an objectively better grocery store in my opinion) is significantly cheaper. This means fresher food, less processed ingredients, and healthier, better-tasting options are available to me for cheaper. I also plan on becoming a member of the Olympia Food Co-op, which would increase my accessibility to more local food, and I would feel much better supporting a co-op as opposed to a giant organization like Trader Joe’s. In addition to better ingredients, I’ve been prepping meals more, and making meals beforehand to ensure that even if I’m in a rush, I can get something good in my body.
Get outside often
Having just recently returned from a camping trip to the Washington Coast with my family, I would say I’ve gotten outside quite a bit. In addition to the several-day family camping trip, I also explore the woods every chance I get. I never understood the phrase “the mountains are calling me, and I must go” until I lived in Olympia, and experienced the call of the woods. There is hardly a second where I’m not thinking of the forest. As the days get longer and lighter, and the sun is out more, my friends and I have been able to spend even more time outside, having picnics and playing and chatting in the Evergreen fields. My knowledge of the local flora has also increased significantly, and I’m beginning to become even more passionate about herbalism. Expect many posts about what I’ve learned in the future.
Either continue seeing my current therapist or find a new one
Still have not sought out a therapist. Things have been going very well lately, and the coping skills I learned through previous years of therapy have been serving me well.
Maintain regular contact with family
My family and I recently went camping for a few days in Washington, so my contact is still recent and fresh. Aside from that, I try to call my parents every night, and sometimes we are graced by Wyatt’s presence on the call as well.
Personal trifles
Goals designed to improve me in a wide variety of ways
Learn how to navigate the bus system and get into Olympia regularly
I would say I’m proficient in navigating via bus. However, this past quarter I’ve been relying more on one of my friends for rides, which in many ways is much better than a bus. However, I still cherish the time I spend on city buses, music in my headphones, reading a good book, and taking my time to intentionally get to my desired location.
Make connections to artisans and craftsmen
I’ve made some progress with this goal! I’ve begun getting my wool for needle felting from a local wool dyer at the farmer’s market. Maybe next year I will have a farmer’s market stall of my own.
Improve my handwriting
My handwriting this past quarter has somehow gotten even smaller, and I like how it’s looking at this stage! During evaluation week with my professors, one of my professors from this last quarter commented that my handwriting was even neater than hers.
Reflection, and what’s to come
I enjoyed this past quarter. The beginning few weeks were a little rough with homesickness and the darker days, but now the sun is returning, and with it comes so much joy. I’m so excited for this next quarter of my first year of college and will continue to chronicle it dutifully.
It’s been a while since I’ve added anything to this blog, so in honor of my 19th birthday yesterday, I hope you will all enjoy a brief 15-minute free-write about growing up. (As a disclaimer- all of these beliefs are subject to change! I have only turned nineteen!)
Nineteen is not a milestone year. Last year’s birthday was probably the most significant milestone year I’ve lived through so far—the legal transformation from child to adult. An arbitrary one though, brain chemistry doesn’t switch overnight. My brain won’t be fully developed for several more years. For all extensive purposes (except in the eyes of the law) I am still practically a child, and turning nineteen this year doesn’t change that much.
The finality of nineteen hit me last night though when one of my roommates commented it would be my last year as a teenager. I hadn’t thought of that. I’ve really enjoyed being a teenager, because once you exit the teenage sphere, I’ve noticed people become more disconnected from their childhood. Maybe turning 20 is the real gateway to adulthood. That makes more sense to me. Who knows how I’ll feel next year when I’m twenty. I doubt I’ll feel like an adult then either, but at least it’s farther away than now.
I’ve always been afraid of losing whatever it is that makes children so magical. If you ask my Early Childhood teacher this quarter, that thing is the spirit. Something existing before the child chooses to be birthed to their family, a connection the child holds to a realm that is outside of our own. Working with young children, I can attest there is definitely a powerful energy surrounding them. Their presence fills up a room, emotions radiate off of them, and they have the inexplicable ability to make you feel lighter than you were when you arrived.
Growing up, my parents told me I made them believe in magic again. Strolling through the garden beds, with a wooden spoon in my small hands, speaking blessings in a language shared only between the plants and me as a young child. Now, I stroll through the woods, dwarfed by the trees. To the ancient trees, beings of plant matter piled on the plant matter, collecting over centuries, stretching upwards towards the even more ancient sun, to them, I will always be a child. Now, I seek magic in the children I work with, in the art, I craft with my hands, in the green that surrounds me, and in the rain that soaks into my skin.
Sometimes, when I enter the woods, it feels like my body is trying to purge all the poisons of adult society. The artificial lights, the noises, the smells, the conflicts, the metal and plastic, and finances. I wish I could open my body and dispose of everything unnatural in my system. Free my blood from microplastics. Free my tongue from the taste of chemicals. Free my mind from thoughts of trivial things, the concerns of humans. I feel no loyalty to my country. I feel no loyalty to my government. They do not exist beyond this blip of time. These trees are older than the system that attempts to govern this land. These trees have seen more than any being who walks underneath them. And the sky above has seen all that has been on this rock we bury ourselves into. And above that, celestial beings exist beyond our understanding. There are no cops in space. There is no war among the stars.
Living under these stars, on this rock, this land, living under these trees. All of it is a miracle in itself. Even as I age, I don’t think it’s possible to lose the magic of children. It may be easy to forget it, as adults are prone to do, but one cannot lose the magic of existence. Children are still so fresh on this earth, they have not forgotten the wonder of life. The older we get, the more preoccupied we become with the lights and the noise, and the easier it is to forget how old the trees are, how young we are, and how little our planet is. No matter how old we become, we never stop being the children of the universe.
The quarter ended last week, and I’m back in Bend for the holidays. The sun is being birthed again, a new year is beginning, and there’s no better time to reflect on how far we’ve come.
Friendships
The goals I had involving both new and old social interaction
Making friends with all of my dorm mates
I set this goal having already spoken to the majority of my suitemates for several months, and was pretty confident in my ability to excel at this goal for that fact. However, as time passed, I began to realize how unrealistic it was to assume I would be best friends with everyone I lived with. We’re all kind and respectful toward each other (for the most part) and have reached the understanding that making our apartment a livable space is a group collaboration. I often find myself doing the majority of the kitchen cleanup, washing mystery dishes, and sweeping up mystery crumbs, but I don’t mind all that much. I am close with a handful of my roommates and have a friend who doesn’t technically live in the dorms but spends enough nights here to count as a roommate, but for the most part, my roommates are friendly cohabitants, which is fine with me!
Making friends with the people in my classes and herbal apprenticeship
I’m happy to report that some of my closest friends at Evergreen so far are people I’ve met through my class. We spend time together both inside and outside of the classroom and have become very close. I’m very grateful for this because it makes classtime infinitely more enjoyable, and the people I’ve befriended are wonderful people who I enjoy hanging out with. The majority of people in my apprenticeship are significantly older than me, but I enjoy every session, and everyone is very kind.
Keep in contact with my friends back home
In my opinion, I think I’ve excelled at this for the most part. Not only have I maintained contact with my friends back in Bend I’ve also rekindled a friendship that had previously fizzled out. In some cases, now that I live in Olympia, I talk to some of my friends over the phone more often than I did living in Bend. Maintaining these friendships is very important to me, and I count myself very lucky to have grown up around such amazing people.
Caring for myself:
Goals I designed to ensure I would be happy and healthy in the new space
Keep my room organized
I did a better job at this one than I expected I would! While my room is now way perfectly clean, it’s a much more liveable space than I ever maintained in Bend. One major factor is I have less space, which meant I couldn’t bring everything that had been cluttering up my old room. The things I did end up bringing were all items I care greatly about, and as a result, I find I’m naturally inclined to take better care of them. The other factor is having friends constantly in my space. I’ve learned I love having people over, and something that comes with having company is needing to keep the space clean and usable for them. There’s definitely room to grow in my organization, but overall I’m pretty impressed with my ability to keep my room clean.
Eat healthily and regularly
I eat better in Olympia making my own meals/making meals with my friends than I ever have in Oregon. I often find myself cooking for others, or helping people cook, and as a result, I’ve had the opportunity to really explore the food I love. I also do my own shopping, so I can plan meals and buy the ingredients I need for them. It’s the level of freedom I don’t have in Bend, where I have to rely on my parents to shop or drive me to the store, which allows me to take control of my eating habits. I really enjoy cooking, especially with friends. We’re able to dance around the kitchen and have fun while we make food, which makes the whole process from store to kitchen to table so enjoyable and fun.
Get outside often
At the beginning of the quarter, before the sun started setting at 4:30 pm, I was able to walk down to the beach every day after work. I would walk along the rocky shore, searching for agates and quartz, and would never come back empty-handed. Now that the sun sinks in the sky so early, I find other ways and other times to get outside. When it’s dark, I never go out alone, but can always find a friend who is more than willing to have a candlelit picnic with me, or explore the trails and walk along the beach under the light of the moon. And on days when I don’t work, I take full advantage of the light and venture into the woods on my own. I’ve explored so many trails and discovered so many hidden gems in the Evergreen forests. As of now, I have never gone more than two days without going on a hike. Sitting in my living room in Bend, Oregon, I desperately miss the Olympia wilderness.
Either continue seeing my current therapist or find a new one
This is a goal I have not felt a need to complete. I’m living in a beautiful place, surrounded by friends, woods, and music. I get to study what I am passionate about, I get to work with children, I get to read good books, and make good art. I dance often, I get outside regularly, and I eat better than I ever have. Maybe I will need to return to therapy at some point, but that point is not today. I was able to learn and retain a lot of coping strategies from the four years I spent in therapy, and I know I can always return to learn more if I need to. But as of now, I feel equipped to handle what may come.
Maintain regular contact with family
My parents and I call several times a week and text almost every day while I’m in Olympia, a balance that works for me and my schedule very well. Sometimes we call when I’m alone, and sometimes we call when I’m with friends (all of whom love my parents). It was difficult being away from home when Zoe (my dog) was diagnosed with lung cancer and later passed away, but I’m grateful for the time they came to visit me with her, and the days I was able to spend in Bend when I got to say goodbye. I love spending time with my family, and wish Wyatt would respond to my texts more (I’ve heard I’m not alone in that wish). Overall, the system we’ve naturally fallen into fits just right for me.
Personal trifles
Goals designed to improve me in a wide variety of ways
Learn how to navigate the bus system and get into Olympia regularly
I believe I have excelled at this goal. At first, the bus system seemed incredibly intimidating and incomprehensible. I got lost a couple of times. Got on the wrong bus. Got stuck in the next town over for several hours. And through it all, I never panicked. Another bus will always come(and if one doesn’t I have money for an uber). Now I travel downtown at least once a week and make the journey to Safeway or Burger King (where Wally works) several times a week. I’ve learned how to navigate the bus system through a lot of trial and error and was luckily able to stay safe through it all. I love riding the bus now, it gives me time alone to listen to music and read my book. Bus journeys are something I look forward to, and jump at the opportunity to embark on any chance I get.
Make connections to artisans and craftsmen
There’s definitely room to grow here, but I feel I’ve made some major strides. I’ve run my own booth with the help of my friend, Wally at an Evergreen-hosted craft fair, where I made over 250 dollars selling my needle-felted creations in four hours! (Many of which are listed on my Etsy, which you can find here https://www.etsy.com/shop/TrilliumCritters?ref=search_shop_redirect). Being at Evergreen, surrounded by so much beauty and so many creative people, has really inspired me to branch into more mediums. Some friends host a craft night at their apartment every week, and I attend whenever I can. It’s so nice to find and get together with like-minded creative people.
Improve my handwriting
If anything, I think my handwriting has gotten worse at college. In lectures, I’m having to write so much so fast! My handwriting has definitely gotten smaller (who knew that was possible) and I still love taking notes. I’d like to continue trying to improve my handwriting this coming quarter.
Reflection, and what’s to come
It’s so interesting to look back on what was important to me at the beginning of the quarter and reflect on these things that are equally as important to me now. Expect another blog post before the next quarter begins filled with more goals being set! Thank you to everyone who has made the first quarter of college so wonderful, I can’t wait to see you all once winter break is over!
It is essential to remember that we, as humans, are animals. There is not some line separating us and the earth. Despite what technological and industrial developments may lead one to believe, we have not conquered Mother Nature, because we are a part of her. No matter how many acres of soil we cover with concrete, we still return to it once all is said and done. The winter months force even the most human-centric of us to acknowledge humanity’s intrinsic link to nature. As our animal counterparts hunker down, taking shelter from the long, cold nights and harsh frigid weather, we continue at the same pace demanded of us year-round. A season that has been utilized as a time of rest and recovery for millions of years has, in the last 200, become yet another hurdle in the race to obtain capital. It’s not some feat of evolution, not some skill ingrained into our DNA that allows us to work ceaselessly as the sun sets at 4:30 pm. Instead, it is the knowledge that if we allow our bodies and minds the break they are wired to receive, we may lose our food, our shelter, and our means of life. By denying ourselves the rest we need, we are able to provide, sure, but we also lose sight of who we are and what we need as a species.
In my program at college, we‘ve learned how the Indigenous Salish people live by the seasons. Spring, summer, and fall are spent hunting, gathering, and preparing for the winter months. Food would be dried and stored in Long Houses so that when the frigid rains and winds settled upon the coastal lands, they could shelter inside. The hard labor and work had been done for the year, and as the days grew short and cold, communities would gather with enough provisions to last, and create art. Carving and weaving and dancing and singing. Winter was a time of rest and creation. A time to gather strength for the approaching work when the salmon begin to arrive.
Practices such as these are not isolated to the Pacific Northwest either. For generations, winter months have been used to take stock of what we have. There is no farming to be done, and the days grow shorter and shorter. Communities would mimic the movement of the sun, retreating sooner and resting often. It is the natural cycle of the wheel of the year.
These patterns aren’t isolated to animals either. As the weather grows cooler, the leaves of the many plants in Olympia which remain green year-round do not harness the same potency of medicinal properties they burst with during the warmer months. Instead, the energy of the plant settles under the ground, within its roots. Full of nutrients, the roots store the energy of the plant while snow piles and winds blow. Humans are naturally a lot like plants in this way. The urge to shelter and ground oneself when the weather turns frigid is a universal one.
Regardless of the many iterations of rest that occur during winter, we continue to hold the same expectations of ourselves throughout the cold dark months that we do for the rest of the year. It’s not realistic to demand constant productivity and movement during our natural rest. And yet, in order to stay afloat in a world that does not honor our identity as animals, we must conform to the capitalist system of oppression.
There are ways, however, we can practice being gentle with ourselves and others during the dark times of the year. I hope my non-exhaustive list of a few ideas proves to be helpful in your diet hibernation.
Light Fasts
The concept of a light fast was first brought to my attention about a month ago during my herbal apprenticeship. My mentor spoke about the year she lived in the vintage circus caravan on her property. There was no electricity, so during the winter, she lived by the light of the sun and the fire of her candles. By doing so, she observed the increased connection she felt with the cycles of the natural world, and with herself. Eliminating man-made lighting allowed her body and mind to return to the restful state winter brings. This can be replicated in smaller increments by spending an hour every day, every week, or even every month when all electric lights and technology are turned off. Instead, light candles and feel the warmth on your skin. Although you won’t be able to absorb vitamin D through candlelight, just feeling the heat and the light is enough to give you more energy. Since learning about this practice, I’ve engaged in several light fasts and definitely feel the benefits. Even during times when I’m not practically able to use only candlelight, I find myself turning off overheads, and working instead by the light fairy lights or low lamplight.
Cooking and Eating Good Food
There is a reason so many holidays during this time revolve around the preparation and consumption of rich food. The Pagan Holiday of Yule, for example, originated as a celebration of the birth of the sun as the days transition to becoming longer again after the shortest day of the year (the Winter Solstice). Many of the Yuletide celebrations revolve around food, both for the living and the dead. Food was used as a form of worship and ritual, with the intention of bringing a fertile harvest in the next year. Food was also left out for ancestors, who were rumored to have visited for the festivities. The food traditions that remain to this day are that of feasting. Gathering as a community to eat fatty celebratory meals has been used for generations to raise the often low spirits during the winter season. On cold dark days, one of my first inclinations is to bust out the flour and sugar and make something warm and rich, something that will fill me up and keep me warm.
Baths and Steam
In cultures throughout the world, bath and steam houses have been used as a relaxer and means of releasing toxins for tens of thousands of years. Hot water and steams have been incorporated into rites of passage, spiritual experiences, and community bonding, and as a result, is a tried and true method to connect with one’s own body and mind. Herbs can be used to elevate the experience, some steam with herbs like peppermint or eucalyptus are known to clear up respiratory issues and make breathing easier if one is suffering from the common sicknesses that spread during the cold months. Overall, the use of warm water and hot steam is rejuvenating and relaxing, perfect for lonely winter days, or when the chill of the air seems to get stuck inside your bones.
While this list is in no way complete, and I’m hoping to add some more ideas with significant traditional ties to my toolbelt as the years continue, these three actions have greatly aided in maintaining decent mental and physical health as the sun disappears for increasingly longer periods of time and the urge to hibernate kicks in. The Winter solstice is right around the corner. Celebrate with the people you care about, light a fire, eat good food, and welcome the rebirth of the sun for the coming year.
This blog post is being composed on the wooden desk of my college dorm. To my right is a handful of candles and sticks of incense, a plethora of stones and bones which have made their way into my home by means of delicate hands and deep pockets. These objects frame a ground-floor window, which opens to several small trees, and a collection of salal and trailing blackberries. Scattered among the duff and plants lay bird seed, which has been strewn haphazardly by the local wildlife (prominent figures being many small birds, squirrels, and a returning family of raccoons, a family which routinely attempts to break into my room under cover of darkness). To my left stretched the vast majority of my room. Artwork filled the walls, fake flowers strung along the ceiling, and tapestries and hangings draped over furniture. My attempt at making this space my own.
The current state of my dorm room
Tomorrow I will return to Bend, Oregon for Thanksgiving. Back to the Cascade mountains, the Deschutes river, Tumalo Creek, and valleys full of shivering lakes. Back to family, friends, and pets, hoping the number of dogs will remain the same when I return to Olympia at the end of the coming week. I don’t think I’ve gotten truly homesick up in Washington. I’m not lonely, my friends here are a part of my life practically every day, and I still text, call, and facetime with my family and friends in Bend regularly. Here, my life feels significantly fuller than it ever felt in Bend. The balance of school, work, friendships, and time just for myself feels more enriching than it ever did back at home.
Being in college has given me the opportunity to explore everything deeper. Before, I would listen to music in my free time. Now, I’m attending small punk shows whenever I can, in a room of maybe 100 others, all listening to groups play in a dark room filled with fog, getting jostled forward and pushed back, knowing that my friends are pushed next to me, and everyone in that room would help me if I fell. Before, I would read about medicinal plants online and in any book I could find. Now, I attend a weekly herbalism apprenticeship, where we harvest and process the plants ourselves, learning about their significance, history, and uses, and making medicine out of what we find. Before, whenever I entered a forest I would ask my dad the names of the trees, shrubs, and underbrush we would pass. Last weekend, when my parents came up to visit, I was the one being asked to identify the native flora, and best of all, I was able to.
My ability to survive and thrive in this environment surprises me most of all. Coming up to Washington, I had very little faith in my ability to function in a new state without my prior support system. Despite the near-constant encouragement of those around me, doubt in my own abilities was inevitable. But these past months have illuminated my own capabilities to me. Strong friendships, a sense of fulfillment in my class, and plans for the future that are both realistic and optimistic: three things I would have thought impossible at the beginning of September.
In an attempt to encapsulate what I’ve learned thus far, I must return to my favorite organizational tactic, a categorical list.
Academic Growth
Obviously, it would be impossible(or at the very least, unethical) to condense all of the content in my program into a list, but rest assured, I am learning so many wonderful, amazing things in my program this fall.
Better ways to manage time
I began this school year the way I always do. Several journals dedicated to to-do lists, a beautiful planner, with both a calendar at a glance and several lines for writing for each day of the month, and a small blackboard on my wall, destined to be filled with reminders. However, as time went on and I got busier, the act of re-writing the same due dates, obligations, and assignments in several different spots started to feel a bit more excessive. In high school, I ended the day with a lot of time on my hands, not having much else to do besides work and school, which resulted in filling time by filling pages. Repeating the same information in many different places helped me feel like I was at least doing something, even if that something was a facade of productivity. At this time, I’ve shifted to only writing my to-dos and plans in my planner. It saves time, space, paper, and sanity.
Order of task completion
The drawing and artistic aspects of my program and coursework are the most enjoyable to complete. When I’m creating art, it doesn’t feel like I’m doing a task, but rather, partaking in an activity I very much enjoy. By completing the written and scientific aspects of assignments first, I give myself the artistic aspect to look forward to, which motivates me to complete the rest in a more timely fashion. This strategy keeps me more accountable, more efficient, and happier than I have been using other task completion orders.
Note-taking
Any of my prior teachers can attest- I love taking notes. I make a game out of writing as small as I can, squeezing as much information into the margins as I can manage. The result, in my opinion, is very aesthetically pleasing. My notes make sense to me, and I can navigate them effectively. Over time I’ve learned that the more traditional note-taking formatting many teachers encouraged throughout my high school education didn’t allow me to fully absorb the information. Instead, I was forced to focus on lettering and numbering the bullet points properly, condensing words to their simplest form, measuring the distance from the margins, and drawing straight lines. When given the freedom to take notes the way I like, I’m not only able to pay attention during the two-hour lectures, but also retain the information I record for a longer period of time.
Notes from two lectures this year
Social Growth
Roommates
Unfortunately, it’s impossible to be on excellent terms with all of your five roommates all of the time. Dishes don’t get done, strange substances appear mysteriously on surfaces with no explanation, and labeled food inevitably disappears from the fridge without a trace. Luckily, among the squabbles, there’s also the understanding that we are all sharing the same space. I can appreciate the attempts at self-awareness and correction from the people I co-habitat with, and I hope they feel similarly towards me. We’re all still learning how to live on our own, and I feel lucky to have roommates who are for the most part kind and respectful.
Connections in Bend
From my perspective, my ability to stay connected and in touch with my connections and friendships from Bend has been fairly impressive. Coming into college I was afraid I would lose touch with the people I love and care about as things got busier. However, the reality has been completely opposite. Somehow, I’ve managed to rekindle old connections that had fizzled out, stay in touch with my friends of inconvenience in Bend, and balance new friendships in Olympia, something I would have never thought possible a few months ago.
In-class “friends of convenience”
Wally (one of my friends of inconvenience) used the term “friends of convenience” to describe the phenomenon where comradery is formed between classmates and peers purely because you see each other so often. There’s the built-in understanding that after this term is over, our friendship will stop. If we see each other walking through campus there may be a wave or friendly remark exchanged, but that is as deep as this connection goes. It can be nice to have friends of convenience, someone you can rely on for conversation and assistance in class without the commitment of continuing that conversation and assistance outside of lecture halls and lab buildings.
Friends of inconvenience
Of course, on rare occasions, a friend of convenience will become a friend of inconvenience. Someone you go out of your way to make a connection with, see outside of class, someone whose company you actively seek out. I’ve been lucky enough to meet a few people whose presence I genuinely enjoy so far, and I’m excited to meet more as the year goes by. On the flip side, having people who seem to really enjoy hanging out with me is also fairly new. In Bend, I had a handful of people who would ask to hang out every so often, but in Evergreen, I see select friends almost every single day. What’s mine becomes theirs and what’s theirs becomes mine. As I have the opportunity to spend more time with such amazing people, I’m beginning to come to terms with the fact that I may not be the staunch introvert I always thought. Instead, I was a socially anxious ambivert who had yet to find a group of individuals I connected with on a degree that would warrant daily visits.
Some friends of inconvenience
Self Growth
Change
Coming into college, I was terrified of change. The unknown was unpredictable, and that really scared me. I would be lying if I claimed I wasn’t still afraid of what changes may lay ahead, but the fear has definitely lessened. I’ve started going out of my way to try new things and have new experiences. My life has and will continue to change and shift and grow for the rest of my life, but I feel ready.
Sense of Self
The demographics of students who choose to go to Evergreen is a very unique crowd. In Bend, I often felt like an outsider or an oddball, but Evergreen is a school full of oddballs. It’s so nice feeling comfortable to be authentically myself without the worry of ridicule. I hope that feeling accepted, loved, and supported at school will grant me the courage to continue my authenticity around others for the rest of my life.
This blog post is being concluded at the dining-room table of my childhood home back in Bend, Oregon. To my right is a big picture window opening up to a front yard sprinkled in frost and snow. Juniper tree’s peer through the glass, their papery bark overlapping in a manner that reminds me of the cedars of olympia. Birds scavenge the ground and the bird feeders for any remaining seeds, and every so often a car will drive by. The living room is warm from the old gas stove perched upon a brick rise, and my mom sits on the couch watching her shows. More family arrives in Bend tomorrow, and I’m excited to see them, and get to experience the joys of being around family, cozy in our warm house before I return to my other home in Olympia at the end of the week.
As this correspondence is composed, I’m afraid I’m leaving you. I will return in ten weeks after the first trimester of my first year of college has been completed, but for the time being, I will miss you dearly. The longest I’ve been away from your gnarled junipers and jutting laws rocks was ten days in eighth grade. It was this trip that solidified my love for your upstairs neighbor Washington. The San Juan Islands planted a yearning for foggy forests and cedar trees which is seldom found in your high desert terrain, and now I find myself returning to the temperate rainforests of Olympia.
That’s not to say that your forests are anything less than extraordinary. Towering ponderosas and twisting junipers will forever hold a place in my heart. The smell of sagebrush and current will always feel like home. It was in this home where I’ve spent the past 18 years. I feel very much like a product of the desert. Short and stocky like the juniper trees that cling to life despite the limited resources, growing in complexity instead of in height. Thank you for teaching me the value of compactness, the value in packing an extraordinary amount of spirit in such a small vessel. I prefer to think that it is because of the desert I am small, as opposed to the mixture of genetics and medical conditions. This was more a product of the beautiful home I was raised in as opposed to an aberration of the height status quo.
I’m scared to be around stretching cedars and towering maples. The rainforest stretches and pulsates with life and growth. It’s so different from the hidden
Pictures from the last two months of being a permanent resident of Central Oregon
Dear Central Oregon,
It’s been two weeks! This is the longest I’ve been away from your dusty air and hardy climate. It is so incredibly different here. While I still love the feeling of the warm sun on my face, the feeling of relief when jumping into a cold stream after an unbearably hot day, and the feeling of rabbit brush being rubbed between my fingers, I’m learning there are many other things I love as well.
I love my lungs being filled with moisture, almost as if they are drinking it in as I inhale the oxygen-rich air. The greenery here works over time making some of the most delicious air you’ll ever taste. Central Oregon, you will always have my heart for the best-tasting water on the planet, but Olympia easily has you beat for the best air.
I’ve made friends here too! They make me feel included, they make me feel like I’m wanted. It has always been so hard to find people who seem to want to be friends with me as much as I want to be friends with them, but the people here are able to do it almost effortlessly. For one of the first times in my life, I actually want to hang out with a group of people. I’m surrounded by individuals who are just as much themselves as I am, and it’s so refreshing. People here are okay with being unapologetically different, another breath of fresh air from the microbrewery conformity of Central Oregon.
Pictures from the first two weeks of being an Olympia resident
Dear Central Oregon,
It’s been three weeks! That’s so strange to think about, the time spent away from you simultaneously feels like a few days and a few years. I’ve managed to adjust so much easier than I ever thought possible. I still miss you, and change adjusting to the change has been difficult. I know I’ll come back to visit your sloping, jutting mountains and twisted shrunken trees soon. But for now, I am content. Thank you for all you taught me as I’ve grown and played. It is because of you that I have the tools in my belt to tackle this new adventure.
Thank you for teaching me to soak in every moment, like the roots of a sturdy juniper tree soaking in every drop of precious water. Thank you for teaching me to be present and aware, like a red-tailed hawk always scanning the ground below. Thank you for teaching me to watch where I step, to always bend down and examine cool bugs, to pick up rocks, and fill my pockets with click-clacking joy.
Pictured: Haze(she/her purple hair), Me(brown hair), Wally(he/they other person with brown hair), Bone(fe/mur)
Dear Central Oregon,
A month has passed. I’ve been so busy here, I have friends I see, cohabitate with, and hang out with every single day. They like similar things as I do, and most importantly, they like me. I feel like I no longer have to compromise as I did in Bend, where it was often either find people who want to hang out with me who I don’t find interesting in the slightest or find people I find interesting who have little interest in my well-being. There were the obvious exceptions, of course, chances are, if you’re from Bend and you’re reading this blog, you are one of the great exceptions. But here, people take an interest in me just as I take an interest in them. I’ve gotten to explore forests and comb rocky beaches with others who are just as passionate about every mushroom, every rock, and every caterpillar, as I am. I’ve gotten to exchange books with friends and talk about our favorites, comparing theories and thoughts on different literary works. I’ve gotten to watch stupid mindless shows and movies one night, and then watch cinematic masterpieces the next, enjoying both the same because of the people I’ve had the privilege of watching with. And most importantly of all, I’ve gotten to rest in other people’s presence, learning about each other both through the words we say, and the silence we leave.
My class is also amazing. An extension of all the natural history and ecology I’ve been taught my whole life, intertwined with artistic expression. It feels as if the program was designed with me in mind. I have friends in the class as well. Nights are spent comparing drawings of fish in our field notebooks and talking about the insane reproductive cycle of jellyfish. In addition to my college class, I’ve also begun an apprenticeship with a local herbalist. Being able to enter the dense and diverse temperate rainforests of Olympia and know the names of the life that surrounds me is such an empowering experience. Knowing not only how my actions affect the plant, but how the plant can affect me. Knowing what is safe to nibble on and what is better left alone. Knowing I will never be without abundance as long as I cohabitate with the forest.
Every day I learn a plethora of new things here. Every day I’m faced with a new experience, new challenge, new accomplishment, and new shortcoming. What I had thought would be terrifying and overwhelming feels instead enriching and invigorating.
I love you, Central Oregon, you will always be my home, and the more time I spend in Olympia, the more it feels like home too. Thank you for preparing me to both thrive and falter in this climate, and I’m so excited to return to you during my next break from school. No matter where I go or what I do, I will always return home, even if just to visit.
After spring break this past year I was laid off from my job as an assistant pre-schoolteacher at a place that I loved with my whole heart, with kids that I loved even more, with no warning after a transfer in ownership. I never got the chance to say goodbye to those kids, I still wonder about them. I had worked for the preschool for almost a year and had been with the same group of toddlers that whole time. I hope they’re doing okay. I hope they know that I didn’t want to abandon them.
Working at the past preschool taught me that my passion lay in teaching young children. There’s something magical about toddlers. Their smiles seem to swallow their small face in joy. Their hands clasp tightly around my fingers. They pull me along for adventures. Their laughter reminds me of a quote by Antonie Saint-Exupéry in one of my favorite books, The Little Prince.
There is sweetness
in the laughter of all the stars….
and in the memories of those we love
Antonie Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince
Unable to exist contently in the world without the laughter of the stars, I found a new job within a few weeks working at another preschool. More extensive than the last, with more kids, teachers, a more comprehensive age range, and more campuses. Just, more in general. It was overwhelming at first, but I quickly did what I always do, and adjusted to the norms of the environment.
This new preschool had two campuses, and I soon found that the different campuses were entirely different schools. One campus lay shaded among tall juniper trees, with a sprawling beautiful playground complete with a water feature and a garden teeming with ladybugs. This campus fits my past experience with Waldorf education, and as a result, I felt I fit there better too. Most of our time was spent outside, even on the swelteringly hot days, because we could easily exist tucked away under the shady trees.
The other campus seemed much more sterile because it shared space with the Unitarian Fellowship. Much more modern, less character, and less like the Waldorf teaching style I had been familiar with. An unfortunate downside of this campus was the lack of shade. The fellowship plants exclusively native plants on their property, and living in the high desert, means no shade whatsoever. I was unfortunate enough to be on this campus on the hottest days of the summer when all the teachers and children would crowd under the small shade we had at the picnic table. All of our body heat together negated any relief the shade would have given us, but it gave me plenty of time to get to know all the kids.
Having spent the majority of my time at this preschool working at the second campus, I felt much closer to the children there. Every day I would wake up so excited to see big smiles, watch toddler escapades, and read the same children’s books a thousand times. Watching two-year-olds turn into three-year-olds, watching new words being collected by their sponge brains, watching friendships form, and feeling tiny fingers wrapped around my own, all of it is such a magical experience. To be trusted so entirely by another human, no matter how small, is a feeling unmatched.
Children’s faces censored by flowers
Even now, having been off work for several weeks, I still find myself thinking of the kids every day. Glancing at the clock and thinking “oh, they’re napping right now”. Wondering if they’re having good days. If the kids that so regularly struggled and needed extra hugs are getting the compassion they need. If two kids are still inseparable friends, and if others have managed to find their crowd. Part of me wishes I had taken a gap year, a year to watch the now three-year-olds turn into four-year-olds, and the now four-year-olds turn into five-year-olds and go off to kindergarten next fall. But eventually, I would still have to move on. There would be a new class of two-year-olds whose small voices and small words would tug on my heartstrings, and I would eventually have to leave and move on again. The kids don’t stay kids forever.
On my last day of work, one of the sweetest two-year-olds sat perched in my lap, playing with my many necklaces as they so love to do. She looked up at me with the biggest blue eyes you’ve ever seen (rivaling even my own) and spoke in her small voice. “I’m going to hold your heart in my hands, Ms. Lilah”. I nearly cried. All of the kids I’ve ever gotten to work with seem to hold my heart in their hands. The two girls I babysit every weekend hold a bit of it. The children at the first pre-school I work with hold another tiny fisted handful. And now the kids at the most recent preschool do as well. I wish I could share all the stories from all of these kids, but I’m afraid I neither have the time nor the permission to use the names of toddlers in my public blog, but I have so many small moments to share. So many small moments that stick with me day after day, reminding me to be a little kinder than necessary.
I already have a new job lined up in Olympia, working at the on-campus Children’s Center. It’s different than the preschools I’ve worked at so far, but throughout all of the childcare, the most important thing that sticks with me the most isn’t the philosophy of teaching, or the level of childcare license required. What sticks with me the most will always be the children, and I’m so excited to meet the next group full of star laughter which will take up residency in my heart.
Tinkling like that of a fallen star is whispered through the darkness, where I know my windchimes are being gently caressed by the much louder fan. Like fairy’s laughter, the chimes come infrequently, and remain a calming sound in the night. The noise seems to cleanse the air, and make it feel safe. I know that I will bring my windchime with me when I depart in two weeks. One thing that will remain the same will be the twinkling music that reassures me every night. Sound still moves, even when I cannot see where it is coming from. And it will still move, wiggling the air, even in Olympia.
Soft in my bed, surrounded by a cocoon of comfort. Fur-like blankets twisted around the border of the mattress, enclosing me like a bird’s nest. I am small, featherless, and possess large eyes. In my loft nest, I am my own sort of baby bird. If anything, I am most like a corvid. Collecting small things. Stones, screws, bottle caps. Collecting big things. Stuffed animals, tapestries, friendships. All woven into my oasis. A room full of memories. A room full of things. Some of these possessions will come with me, but most will have to remain. Stones only weigh down bags, the ones you bring must be chosen carefully. New collections will amass on the campus of green and rain, new rocks, and new bottle caps.
Croaking fills the tranquil space. Chiming in when thunder growls, making music with the sky. It begins quietly, and grows louder until the call eventually cracks. A chorus is sung by one, sometimes two, but never a full choir. They will come with me, to a forest full of many frog calls, although none are quite like theirs. The choir in my bedroom is far away from their native home on the other side of the world. I wonder if I will feel far away from my home when I live among the mist. I wonder if I will miss the dry heat of the summer, the sticky junipers and mountains eternally in the west. I wonder who I will find to call out to the thunder after the sun has set, or if I will also be a single voice in an empty chorus.
But that is not entirely true, I have to tell myself. The frogs call at music too, they call to even my own voice. The frogs choose to make music in their new home, no matter how different it may be from Indonesia, where their families once lived. The frogs know that music can be made with an amalgamation of instruments and sound. Even if I am a single voice in an empty chorus, perhaps there will be percussion, strings, and wind to keep me company.
In the darkness of the night, surrounded by the depth of the ink-filled sky, comfort is not found through sight. When I brush my hands along the soft fabric of my favorite blanket, I feel at home. When the air begins to dance with the vibrations of tinkling chimes and heartfelt croaks, I am reminded that I am safe. These things will stay the same, even in Olympia. Even when I am far away from the comforts of all I have called home my entire life. I have to keep reminding myself that comfort and safety will remain constant, even when I cannot see the mountains eternally in the west.
Life of Lilah 