For Fears Shall Flee at the Angel's Landing

My eyes flutter open. This is the fourth time in the course of the past 2 hours. You see, today is the day we hike to Angel's Landing in Zion's National Park. Grabbing Brittney's phone, as mine is charging upstairs, I realize this time I've woken up seven minutes late at the time of 5:37 a.m. The alarm didn't go off, just like I'd felt it wouldn't and with a sense of responsibility, I began to awake all of my siblings, starting the ready-ing process.

~

Soon I find myself driving on roads I've never driven with slight direction from a GPS that speaks too slow. The sun begins to break across the red rock skyline and the pressure of this day becomes more palpable. Why must I feel so burdened by responsibility? Mom hasn't come with us, instead opting to take care of Jason so I'm in charge of the group. I suppose McKenzie is older but I was asked, so there I sat watching the dawn break from the driver's seat.

 ~

 Now I'm on the shuttle being borne away to the base of my fear. I really am excited to hike Angel's Landing. I'm sure the pictures I'll have the opportunity to capture will be awesome, and I really want to be able to say that I've done it, especially in the light of my absolute fear of heights. Unfortunately I've fallen sick, and the pain begins to dampen my resolve. The faster the shuttle whisks me towards the site the faster I lose my stomach. The queasy-ness begins. My insides are experiencing quite a debilitating tension. Every time I'm hit with a new set my mind falters. "Okay deep breaths, don't make it look worse than it is. Worse than it is? You've got to be kidding! Just try not to think about it Natalie." My internal dialogue strengthens as it gets worse. I've gotten very good at  masking this timely and inescapable pain but I usually have the blessed relief of very very strong pain relief pills. Today I have none, I'm about to begin a strenuous hike, an emotional journey that will test my muscles, my mental resolve, and my psychological fear. I fear I don't have enough water but decide to let a good attitude prevail. After all I'm here to take pictures, be with family, and prove to myself that I can do it! With that I step off the bus. 

~

I'm looking at chains. A little string of chain link that follows the edge of a cliff and they expect me to climb that! Joking! Must be! I'll die! As of now I've climbed paved uphill trails and red rock switchbacks and it's been relatively easy taking out the fact that we're at an elevation of almost 5,000 feet, and it's been uphill. So far Kristen has been my buddy and we've had a blast taking pictures and walking with our walking sticks and talking. It's been great! But now I look with mounting fear at the summit I'm expected to climb. The tension is thick. My Uncle Shawn has in large part been in charge of the group and we are all aware of the danger of the hike, especially if kids goof off. I can tell the tension is wearing on him. It's definitely no comfort that Kristen and I are both scared of heights. So with resolved determination, I decide to not burden Shawn more. "I'll be fine," I tell myself. "No big deal."

~

The climb has begun. We've been going for quite a while now. There are many people and it makes me increasingly nervous every time we have to maneuver around someone. I'm sticky with sweat and sunscreen and I notice that each time I grab the chain my hands seem to show the symptoms of instant clamminess. Perhaps it's an epidemic. Bad jokes don't seem to be helping my psyche. Good thing I have Kristen. She understands my fear and keeps me talking. Slowly I fall into the monotony of taking one step at a time. Forever looking at the rock below me, occasionally taking a look to the side and looking down in time to ease the pit in my stomach. Awe-inspiring? Yes. Sickeningly high? Yes. Amazing pictures? Yes. Scared out of my mind? Yes. But I am doing it! By golly I am doing it!

~

At this point I've run into the first counselor of my BYU bishopric. I've listened to the past 30 minutes to a scout troop climbing behind me. Honestly they seem as scared as me. Well that's comforting. ;) And I finally made it to the top! Water depleted, muscles shaking from swallowed tension and beautiful pictures taken, oh and Shawn's bag of jerky sadly depleted as well, but regardless I've made it to the top. Freaky pictures on top of frightening rock. Check! Suddenly I take in the surrounding landscape and feel wonderful. I feel empowered. I feel alive. To think that I almost let a small, or perhaps large, psychological fear hinder this experience! For fears shall flee at the Angel's Landing. For fears shall flee. But all too soon we begin to leave. And now we go back down. The fear returns and I hear myself mutter a very sarcastic "Great!"

~

Soon enough I'm down and begin the lengthy descent. My nerves are definitely shot and muscles sore but I'm fine and alive. No death! The hike down is a little hard for me. I almost ripped my ACL last March and I can feel the strain on my knee. Tanner decides to walk with me and I can only say thank you I'm so touched by his thoughtfulness. 

~

I just finished driving home. It was terrible! Everyone fell asleep and I myself was feeling completely drained, utterly exhausted, and was dozing at the wheel. How ironic to die by falling asleep at the wheel after having hiked Angel's Landing where I was sure I'd fall to my death every moment. I chuckled to myself at that thought and kept forcing my eyes open. We didn't die, I'd made it home in one peace, and I collapsed exhausted. Was it worth it? Are you kidding me! Then with a passing thought, I admit "...well I guess it was." After all, anything is worth feeling fear flee for even a short moment. And if my fears flee on Angel's Landing, then I'll go again.

-Natalie Cherie

Becoming a Cougar...No Big Deal :)

Hey, so today I finished a video of my freshman year of college. Needless to say it was epic! So here it is for you all to enjoy!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gLTAyuCWabQ&feature=plcp

And now I continue my endeavor to scrapbook over 300 photos! And in nine days I'm back! Back to school, folk dancing, my wonderful roommates, and my love, Spencer! Can't wait can't wait can't wait! I take it back, whether you are becoming a Cougar for the first time or returning like I am, let me assure you it's always a big deal. :)

-Natalie Cherie

Auld Lang Syne

For starters, though I'm sure we've all heard it, I think we should all take a moment to listen to this song again . . .

It's an old Scottish poem by Robert Burns and literally translates to Old Long Since. I like to think of it as long ago. Anyway, I was listening to the song on my drive home and it inspired this poem. I wrote two separate poems which you can read right side or left side but if you read it like a book, left to right, the two poems intertwine . . .

The day is long.                                                                                             I wait to meet.

The night is short.                                                                  For all is there.

The time draws nigh.                                    My future wrought.

The phase of fear.                 Oh, will we fair?

Auld Lang Syne I loved you then. Auld Lang Syne shall never end.

The sun still shines.               I will endure.

The tides still roll.                                           Till waiting ends.

The seasons change.                                                           It’s all of worth.

The growth of love.                                                                                        And all will mend.

Auld Lang Syne I love you then. Auld Lang Syne shall never end.

While it's true that this is traditionally a New Year's Eve song, I'd like to put it into a different context. When life moves on, times change, and the sand of the hourglass runs thin we can all look back to the memory of Auld Lang Syne and find the strength to wait, the courage to move forward, the hope that our future will be brighter. 

-Natalie Cherie

Mountain Memories: An Emerald Green Dragon of Oil Paint

So today I began my day by singing about Emerald Green Dragons and oil paints. Why? Because my older sister McKenzie was threatening to not finish her oil paint series of the Inheritance Cycles' dragons...at least before I went back to BYU. This was, of course, an awful thought, so...I sang to her. Meanwhile, we were trying to leave town while our car was refusing to start. But eventually, we were able to go and spent a wonderful day down at the 7 Peaks water park in Salt Lake City. Then the next day, after a long night of being lost and dodging deer on the road up, we explored the Uinta Mountains at our extended family's cabin, "Christmas Meadows."

So I got to thinking that the mountains are like an Emerald Green Dragon of Oil Paint. It sounds really cliche since I had just sung about it, in an entirely different context this morning, but it's true. The Mountains have a stunning beauty, yet the fierceness of a Dragon. One moment it can be as idealistic as an oil painting by Thomas Kinkade, and the next change into a dangerous and terrifying Emerald Green Dragon. Yet, I suppose that therein lies the true beauty. Making mountain memories in all it's sweet perfection and unexpected ferocity. Just being alive together. And enjoying our Emerald Green Dragon, a creation of oil paint. 

-Natalie Cherie

Discovering Kindred Spirits

Ever since I was little I've loved Anne of Green Gables. I love the books and I adored the movies. Honestly, if you had to pick one character to most represent me it would be Anne Shirley (with an 'e'). I've always identified with her funny ways and passionate feeling (especially her love of places with lots of scope for the imagination). Well, this last weekend I reconnected with this love and re-watched the movies. I had to squeeze it in between work shifts and late at night when I should have been sleeping, but I assure you it was well worth it. And it once again reminded me of the beautiful concept of Kindred Spirits. I, like Anne, used to think that Kindred Spirits were rare. But I have since learned otherwise. How wonderful to be able to say with Anne that, "Kindred Spirits are not so scarce as I used to think. It's splendid to find out there are so many of them in the world." And now as I turn my life over to the consistent ebb and flow of change I find it my only comfort to know that "true friends are always together in Spirit." 

This last Sunday my Kindred Spirit, Sarah Anne Dodds, came home from BYU-Idaho. It was a lovely time to spend the day attending farewells, making cookies, and sitting together in church. We giggled and reminisced and felt no other joy than to be together.  Today we went to the temple just like we used to every Wednesday morning before school. We sat by the fountain and talked about the future, having already covered the bliss of the past. And true to tradition we returned to my house to make and delicious breakfast. But finding perfect contentment in reliving tradition and treasuring the past all the while barely containing our excitement for the future is not why Sarah is my Kindred Spirit. Sarah is not my Kindred Spirit because we find perpetual bliss in each other's successes and joys nor because we understand each other on a level untouched by others. It is not because of the unconditional love, acceptance, and need that seemed innately present in the other nor is she my Kindred Spirit because our experiences, beliefs, and very beings are so uncannily similar. It is not because she knew me better than anyone, nor is it that no sacrifice would be too great if it was needed of the other. I am certain, without a shadow of a doubt, that I could not be happy if Sarah were not apart of my life and that perhaps our children may play together while we take walks. She will be at my wedding and I hers, perhaps we will travel, and someday we'll once again reminisce, but this time on a front porch swing with the aroma of chocolate chip cookies wafting through the parlor, our grand-children playing in the yard. But not even this is why Sarah is my Kindred Spirit. 

Sarah is my Kindred Spirit simply because she always has been. I may not remember what happened before this life had begun it's course but I do know one thing . . . when I first met Sarah I wasn't meeting her for the first time. We simply picked up where we left off. What a glorious feeling to realize that though time may always move forward it never has to mean the end. One may simply pick up where they left off. The strands of a memory or the sensations of a past are enough to give meaning and hope that a brighter future may be sparked and ignited into a beautiful present.

Sarah is my Kindred Spirit and I daresay she always has been and always will be and I love her for it. 

So it seems to me (at least from my experience with Sarah) that Kindred Spirits are not made but rather discovered. If we keep our eyes and hearts open I'm sure we will find them, perhaps even in ourselves. For with a Kindred Spirit distance can not part nor hardship waver. A Kindred Spirit does not falter with change or grow weary with years. They do not simply exist in books or in the forever young characters of Anne Shirley and Diana Barry. They are all around us and it's time to start discovering . . . discovering Kindred Spirits. 

-Natalie Cherie

A Past Not Yet Gone

So a couple nights ago I decided to go on a little walk before the sunset. Without even really thinking about it I set off towards my old Elementary School, a path I've walked a thousand and a half times before. But a walk I could take backward and with my eyes closed suddenly became very nostalgic, as I realized that nothing seemed to have changed. The little wildflower garden next door was in bloom and the little path through the fences was just as weathered as always with leaves forever caught between the slats and the sidewalk and vines growing between the posts. The playground was just as bright and the swing sets sat peacefully still like a pencil sketch waiting for the children to play and squeal and once again bring life and color to the scene. And the sunset was like a painting as it decorated the sky and slipped behind the line of darkened trees. Nothing had changed...nothing but me. Yet somehow, I could still step back into a past not yet gone.

Oh, the solace that comes from a fixed point. A moment in time where we can always return. In a world where all pride themselves on consistent progression, constant change, and the struggle to not be left behind, it remains ever more precious and significant to find and keep those places that cannot be marred by the passage of time.

For Wallace Stegner in "Crossing to Safety," his fixed point was Baker Hill. Marcel Pagnol, a French filmmaker and writer, found his solace in the Hills of La Treille, France. And Anne of Avonlea would always return to her beloved Green Gables on Prince Edwards Island. It seems to me that we must each have one. A special spot where we can remember days gone by and rest from the racing world. A place, when all else changes, life move on, and friendships decay with distance, where we can return and find ourselves in the dusky twilight of a memory, the peace of a previous life, and the solace of a past not yet gone.

-Natalie Cherie

Happiest in the Rain

The missionaries stopped by on their P-Day and ended up
helping us move our TV, playing pickup sticks and of course
ending with a deep doctrinal discussion. A lovely rainy day.

 I've always loved the rain. Most of my childhood memories belong in Oregon where I felt happiest, and I was always happiest in the rain. I've now lived in Twin Falls for over 10 years and I've never lost my love of the rain. I love the feeling as it slides off my skin and streaks my hair. I love the smell of rain, as the dampness and vegetation mix to create a beautiful cleansing. I love the look as droplets touch every surface, window panes, street gutters, leaves, a pool surface, the tops of umbrellas. I love the sounds of splashing puddles and dripping water. And most of all I love dancing in the rain, singing in the rain, and feeling alive, at peace, and renewed in the rain.

This rainy morning I was coaching Sagebrush (the YMCA summer swim team)
and loving every minute of it! Juble found a butterfly and Lindsey and Abby were
definitely enjoying their woman cave. :)

-Natalie Cherie