Give and Take: Reflections on 2021

Some of my favorite blog posts have been from New Years Eve/Day the past two years. If you'd like, you can read them here and here.

I feel a need to reflect once again.

The year 2021 had its ups and downs. It was nothing like 2020, and nothing like the years before. It was a year of give and take.

We started by giving the new year a chance to reset things. A chance to go back to "normal" after the hardest year. The year of COVID. I had my chance to take the first dose of the vaccine on January 30th, earlier than most. I felt lucky and hopeful - I still do. Knowing that many around the world still haven't had that opportunity reminds me of the privilege I have of living in the United States.

Unfortunately, some of the pride I have for this country was taken on January 6th when politics and extremism brought out the worst in some at our nation's capital. I hate knowing that our country is so divided. I hate seeing how a virus - a common enemy that can and should have united us in our resolve - has only widened the gap between groups in our country.

This year took away many of the restrictions that created so much separation and isolation in 2020. School looks a bit more normal. Events that were canceled in 2020 started to happen again. I was finally able to see my sister and her family (and meet my nephew in person).

My first experience of being back in a large crowd was at the MLB Home Run Derby at Coors Field. I felt a mix of nervousness and excitement. I was unmasked and felt exposed, but the energy of the place and the chance to see so many people's faces (not on a screen) and have this common experience helped me forget about COVID, if only for a couple of hours.

2021 gave me opportunity to travel again. In June, I spent time on two different rivers with students once again and experienced the thrill of rafting through some of the most beautiful places. I flew on a plane again for the first time since 2019 when we rafted down the Wild and Scenic Rogue River. When we arrived in Oregon, the 115 degree heat gave me a reminder of the reality of climate change. Shortly after our trip, massive wildfires in California and Oregon carried smoke to Colorado to again remind us that our planet is hurting. Unfortunately, the year ended with another reminder of this reality when two Colorado towns were taken by fire. I hope that 2022 will give us a chance to start living more sustainably. If it does, I hope we heed the opportunity.

In March, my four-legged friend Simon was taken after quickly succumbing to kidney disease. It was another loss that only compounded the damage of 2020. I couldn't stand to be in a state of mourning for long, though, and I had the chance to give Calypso a new home. She's not Simon, but I love her own unique style of playfulness and affection.

This school year has given me the chance to host another exchange student. I couldn't have asked for a better student than Emil. We've already had many adventures and we are looking forward to more in the second half of his exchange year. I appreciate his positivity and enthusiasm. Having him here has, in large part, redeemed what otherwise would have been another very challenging year.

2021 has given and taken so many other things as, I suppose, every year does. Several mass shootings that were way too close to home - in Boulder, Olde Town Arvada, and Lakewood - took the lives of community members, police officers, and others. This year gave our country a new president who has set a very different tone than the last president. The last day of the year took Betty White, the brilliant actress and comedian who was weeks away from being 100 years old. If I live to be 100 (or even 99), I hope that I have the same spirit and energy that she did until the end.

What I'm learning is that it's unfair to wholly categorize a year as "good" or "bad". There were a number of very difficult times in 2021 and just as many amazing experiences, too. We all know how challenging 2020 was. In retrospect, it has allowed me to enjoy the better parts of 2021 more than I would have otherwise. In the words of Alan Watts, "if, then, we are to be fully human and fully alive and aware, it seems that we must be willing to suffer for our pleasures."

Like every year, I have no idea what 2022 will bring, and that's okay. It will be another year of give and take, of good and bad, and I will do my best to be present for each part.

Happy New Year.

Intentions

One year ago, I reflected on the end of a decade. I was surprised at how much had changed in my life and in our world in 10 years. Little did I know that, in a few short months, the world would be brought to its knees by a virus that I had only heard of in passing.

This has been, without contest, the most challenging year I have experienced in my lifetime. At New Years, it's traditional to look back on the past year and to make "resolutions" for the year to come. It's difficult to remember the anxiety, the loss, and disappointment that came with 2020 and I've never been much of a new years resolutions kind of guy.

As I sit here, though, on December 31st, I recognize the many silver linings of the past year. 2020 started with some fun adventures: New Years Eve in downtown Denver, road trips to Mount Rushmore, the Badlands, and skiing at Monarch. I had a few more months with Ramón, my exchange student. Once the pandemic hit, I was able to spend the most time with my family that I had since finishing high school. Although the year did not look at all how we had planned, it did provide opportunity for me to take on several new pursuits. I've been able to spend more time outside and practice my photography. I started learning to play piano. I enrolled in a year-long naturalist training class. I became an International Exchange Coordinator and found my first host family for next year. More recently, I started working on improving my Spanish with the Duolingo App. None of these things would have happened if 2020 had gone as planned.

So, while I'm not making any resolutions for the new year, I do have intentions. Intentions to continue learning, practicing, and bettering myself. Intentions to keep pursuing the things that brought me joy in 2020.

My plans for 2021 are many. I look forward to our new president taking office in a few weeks and, hopefully, changing the tone in our country. I eagerly await my turn to get the vaccine that will, with any luck, bring an end to the pandemic. I am excited for the opportunity to travel again; to host another exchange student; to get back to in-person school so that I can see my students face-to-face; to sit in my favorite coffee shops and people-watch; to eat at my favorite restaurants; to go to Rockies games and enjoy the long summer days; and to see my friends and family without fear of getting sick.

I know that none of these things are guaranteed. We've learned that lesson all too well this year. I have also learned that we can make the best of our circumstances, regardless of what happens. I intend to continue doing that in 2021. My words from my January 1st, 2020 blog post now seem almost prophetic (just change "ten years" to one):

If I had the choice to see ten years into the future, I don’t think that I would. But it’s nice to look back and see all that can happen in ten years – the good and the bad. It helps me to remember two things. 1) If times are good, cherish it. Change happens quickly. 2) If times are hard, be patient. Change happens quickly.

Happy New Year everyone. Here's to what's ahead.

Friluftsliv

The titles of my last few posts have come rather serendipitously (shpilkes, ancora imparo). I learn a new word or phrase that describes what I've been writing about and it confirms for me that I must have needed to process that idea. This post is no different.

Two words this week that resonated with me - friluftsliv and desideratum.

Language is such a powerful thing. It allows us to communicate with others, but it also allows us to communicate with ourselves. When we expand our vocabulary, we expand our capacity to make sense of the world.  My friend Brett shared an article last week about the concept of friluftsliv. This is a Norwegian word that basically means "open air living." Norwegians are known for their love of nature. They recognize the importance of being connected to nature and taking care of the Earth.

For several years now, my interest in nature and spending time outside has continued to grow. I've read a lot about how time in nature is beneficial for our physical and mental health (I even published an article about it). During the last eight months of this COVID pandemic, I would say that spending time outside - friluftsliv - has been the main thing that has gotten me through. Between short walks in the evenings by myself and longer hikes with friends this summer and fall, I've been able to process my thoughts and emotions - grief, disappointment, anticipation, anger, worry, hope, wonder. At other times, going outside has allowed me to slow my thoughts and just be present. The year-long Audubon Naturalist class I started this month has allowed me to exercise my legs and my mind. Last week, I was also able to visit Rocky Mountain National Park with some friends and put my worries on a shelf for the day.

It is fascinating to me how things often seem to come together regardless of our actions (and sometimes despite them); how contradicting situations can happen simultaneously; and how challenging moments in life can be redeemed.

Here's what I mean:

The Loch in RMNP

One of the biggest disappointments for me this year was the cancelation of my Norwegian student's exchange year. Ironically, the thing that has helped me most through this difficult year is the Norwegian philosophy of friluftsliv.

As my friends and I hiked through Rocky Mountain National Park last week (practicing friluftsliv) to escape the monotony of life in a pandemic, we were greeted by 50+ mph winds and a plume of smoke filled the sky from the largest recorded wildfire in Colorado history. Yet, I was still able to experience the beauty of creation and feel at peace when we reached the lake at the top of the trail. Plus, I was able to use my national park pass one more time before it expires next month.

What's more ironic, those fires that continue to burn much of our state, while devastating, have created some of the most beautiful sunsets I've seen in a while.

My Owl Visitor

The COVID pandemic has taken away so much from all of us, but it's also given me permission to slow down, to try new things, and to prioritize what's important. I was sitting outside a cafe across the street from my apartment one evening a few weeks ago - something that I would not have been doing if it weren't for "social distancing" - when a great horned owl (my favorite animal) flew above my head and landed on the roof next to me. Sometimes it's the little things that count.

On a larger scale, I started writing this blog last October, one year ago this month. In my second post in early November, I talked about how October has for many years been my least favorite month: shorter, colder days, the end of summer, falling leaves that represent death and dormancy, less travel and adventure, and the beginning of the long, cold winter. Well, looking back, last October was actually the beginning of several great adventures I had with my exchange student Ramón. Adventures to the Grand Canyon, five other National Parks, and Mount Rushmore. All of those happened in the fall and winter. This spring and summer were by far more challenging.

My perspective on October - and on life in general - has changed this year. Although Colorado is currently experiencing its highest number of confirmed COVID cases, there is also the hope of a potential vaccine on the horizon. Although our country has become more divided in recent years - politically, socially, and economically - there is also the prospect of electing new leadership. Leadership that will hopefully prioritize solutions for the pandemic and recognize the urgent need to protect our planet and the diverse people who live on it. Neither of those things is guaranteed, but I'm feeling optimistic that this October may be the start of a shift to something better.

The other thing I'm learning is that friluftsliv isn't just for a season. The onset of winter doesn't have to mean the pause of getting outside. As they say in Norway "there is no bad weather, only bad clothing." October may not be my favorite month and winter may not be my favorite season but, as I mentioned above, most of my favorite memories from the last year happened last winter. My adventure to RMNP last week reminded me that life is what I make of it and, even with the things that I can't control, things work out how they should.

One of the reasons I wanted to visit RMNP last week was to try taking some photos of the Milky Way at night. Although the photos that I got are not award-winning and it was freezing standing outside in the dark, I felt exhilarated staring at the sky and capturing that moment in time. It represents perfectly the state of uncertainty in which we're currently living. On the left side are the mountains, the sky, and the dependable stars that have glowed for millions of years. On the right side is the reminder of the fire that's burning just over the horizon. We don't know when it will burn out or how much damage it will do in the process, but it can't extinguish the stars behind it.

Night Sky in RMNP - Glowing on the horizon from the Cameron Peak Fire

This photo reminded me of one of my favorite poems. It's a poem that my mom has always loved and that she shared with my sisters and me when we were younger. The title of the poem, Desiderata, was my other serendipitous word for this week. As I sat down to proof-read this post before publishing it, I noticed an email in my inbox from dictionary.com with today's word of the day:

After my goosebumps subsided, I read this excerpt from the poem again and smiled. I'll end with this in hopes that it brings you a smile as well.

Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.

Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here.

And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be. And whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul. With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy. 

-Desiderata, Max Ehrmann

 

 

Are we there yet?

It was almost exactly two months ago today when I realized that our world was about to change drastically. I had heard about the coronavirus and even some of the predictions about how widespread it would become. I think that my denial is what kept me from letting that reality sink in. That, and the fact that this is something that most of us have never experienced in our lifetime. We didn't know what to expect. It wasn't until school was closed, Ramón was sent home, and the "stay at home" order took affect that I fully grasped the severity, and the longevity, of this pandemic.

What I've realized over the past two months is that there are two feelings that recur the most and are the primary reasons for this situation being so difficult: grief and uncertainty.

Whether or not we realize it, we have all been grieving during this time. There is both a collective grief and individual grief that can be hard to process. For some, there is grief over losing a loved one to this disease. For others, there is grief over losing a job or a business, being separated from others, missing out on important events like prom and graduation, or having something end prematurely. Hearing the words "cancelled" and "closed" has become routine and expected. All of these things add up to the collective grief that we are experiencing globally. What adds to the difficulty of dealing with our grief is that we're having to support each other from a distance. We cannot be there for each other physically the way we normally would. The important ritual of burying those who have died has been denied or postponed for so many and new things to grieve are being added on daily.

The other part that is so difficult in this situation is the uncertainty. I would call it fear, but I don't feel that's specific enough. Uncertainty is a more specific type of fear that better describes what most of us are feeling. We don't know if we will get the disease. If we do, we don't know how bad it will be. We don't know when or how this pandemic will end or how much damage will ultimately be done. Our calendars are blank and we're not sure when we can start to add to them again. I understand the push from many to get things opened up again. We all want to get back to normal as fast as we can. We need to have our routines back, at least partly, in order to deal with the grief and uncertainty that we feel. For all of us, we need it for our mental health and for many, we need it for our physical and financial wellbeing, too.

I realize how gloomy this post is so far, but that's okay. I think we all need to call this for what it is and recognize that we're all feeling the same thing. This is a rare moment when almost everybody on the planet can empathize with one another. We're all experiencing this first-hand.

I watched this interview from The Daily Show with Ricky Gervais and they describe both of these things - uncertainty and grief - perfectly.

Ricky: I think that the big thing is, apart from the risk and worry about your family and self and everything like that, I think people wish they could have a date. It's like it's turned us into kids. We keep going "are we there yet? Are we there yet?" And no-one knows. No-one knows when it will be over. We don't know what will happen. Will it come back? We don't know. Can you get it twice? No-one knows anything... If someone said "it's over on September the 1st", people would go "okay, fine, see you September the 1st." But it's just not that easy...

I realize that everyone's grieving. Everyone's grieving. Recently, or now, and you don't get over it.

Trevor: It feels like that's what we're all experiencing on a larger level. For the first time in history, we're all experiencing a shared grief in a way that even world wars didn't create. Everyone in the world is experiencing some effect from lock down, some effect from losing somebody, some effect from losing their life, the way they live, their family.

Ricky: I think that most people have started realizing what the most important things in life are. I think it also makes you appreciate the mundane things in life... Those things save you.

What usually helps me through difficult times like this is to think about something coming up that I am looking forward to. Something stable. Something reliable. When uncertainty causes me anxiety, things like my routine can provide some comfort. There are a number of things that I am excited about in the next few weeks, months, and years but, based on what the experts tell us, this virus will likely still be with us and it may impact any and all of these things that I am hopeful for:

-Summer, my favorite season, is just around the corner. I can go outside, sit by the pool, go for a hike, take my camera, and enjoy nature.
-My sister and her family may visit this summer. I will get to meet my nephew, something that I missed out on in March, and spend more time with my whole family.
-I can see my friends, play a round of disc golf, meet at a coffee shop, or take the train to Denver for a Rockies game.
-We will go back to school in August, at least partially in person, and I will get to see my students and colleagues face to face.
-My next exchange student, Filip, will be coming at the end of the summer and we'll have a whole new set of adventures. I will also get to see Ramón again, hopefully sooner than later, here or in Spain.
-I will be taking a group of students to Panama next Spring and maybe still get to do our trip to Australia and New Zealand next summer.

It's hard not knowing what will happen. While this new daily routine may be less exciting and less fulfilling while we wait out this virus, at least there is still a routine. There are some things, small as they may be, that I can rely on and look forward to each day. Just like Ricky said in the interview, we have to appreciate the mundane things in life, especially right now.

There are plenty of mundane things in my new routine that are saving me: making my favorite coffee drink each day, having my cat curl up in my lap while I work, watching a favorite TV show at night to have a laugh, having a good conversation with a friend over text or video chat, or getting my thoughts out by writing in a blog.

Tonight, I sat on my balcony and listened to the sound of heavy rain and thunder as a storm passed through.

It's calm outside now.

Like that storm, COVID-19 will also pass. We don't know when, and that's hard, but it will pass.