life here in kansas is ending, it’s really ending.
the one way ticket i bought carries me away on saturday.
my suitcase is filled and my ‘to do’ lists are complete… or nearly complete.
my boxes are packed and my closet empty, okay nearly empty.
the ’see you laters’ have been said and panera coffee punch card is finished.
all that’s left to do is leave…

am i scared? yes… a little.
it’s not going to be easy, i know that. this is the third year in a row i’ve started over. i know it’ll be a few months before i feel settled and can process my surroundings. i know it will be awhile before i find where i belong, before i can see what i am to do. but i also know it’s always worth it. i know that i grow the most in these out of control times because i am forced to trust to depths i didn’t think possible. and i guess in the end, that’s the important part. but it still scares me.

am i excited? yes… a hundred times, yes.
i am about to enter a field which i am passionate about with a firm i seem to fit in perfectly as i have accepted a job with a portland based company called Brightworks. with them, i will be opening their new their san francisco office with two others and working on projects all over the country as an environmental consultant… i know, sounds complicated; i don’t even know what it entails. i’ll be helping architects, engineers, and contractors design/build/mange more energy efficient buildings for the better good of us all. i cannot wait to get started, though know i have a great deal to understand and my learning curve steep, soon i’ll begin a career, not just a job, where being paid is only part of why i’m there.

am i ready? yes… i think so.
my feet are ready to explore a new place, my eyes ready to take in new scenes, my mind ready to soak up new information, and my heart ready to begin new relationships. the slate is clean, the opportunities seem boundless. everything in the past year has pointed me to this place in this moment. i cannot help but step with confidence into the unknown, assured that when my foot touches the down, the ground is prepared.

and so with this, i sign off to you from the plains of kansas. these simple prairies which used to seem unappealing and restraining, i now find freedom within. it wasn’t until i learned to embrace their fastness instead of degrading their plainness, that i truly discovered beauty. it wasn’t until i learned to love the place that i was given, that i had the opportunity to spread my wings elsewhere. and seeing some of the greatest scenes the world has to offer hasn’t diminished this love; it’s only strengthen it. i used to want to run, to get away, but now? now i’ll always want to come back. for no matter how long i’m gone, nor how far i go, this place will always be home. the sunsets over the fields, the smell of the air before a thunderstorm, the love of friends and family. yes, i’ll proudly wear my ruby red slippers and say, there’s no place like home.

the film
the predecessor
the theaters
the action

i want to apologize for the lack of writing and the addition of frequent links.
i’m working on an additional page, shades of green, to contain such references and articles.
until then, bear with me.

an attempt at capturing my little sister’s beauty in her senior photos…
see photo set here.
let us know your favorites.

‘CELL PHONES’
426,000 cell phones, equal to the number of cell phones retired in the US every day

‘PLASTIC BOTTLES’
Two million plastic bottle beverages, the number used in the US every five minutes

the exhibit
the artist
the article

the book
the products
the exhibition
the video
the praise
the criticism

i still have a big girl bed. when most people my age have fully furnished houses and make meal plans for groceries, i still sleep in the corner bedroom of the house i’ve grown up in on the bed my parent’s bought me when was too old to sleep in the crib. everything i own in life fits into one single room and if i packed really well, in the back of a pick-up truck. don’t get me wrong, i’m not complaining by any means. the rent is cheap, the food appears in the refrigerator, and i have no cable tv bills to pay. i’ve loved spending the past two years with my family after graduating from college; it has been time i never would have dreamed to share with them. more memories were filed away in my collection, deeper discussions had over dinner, and longer evenings spent around the chiminea. i have loved every minute of it… well almost every. okay, most. i’ve loved most every minute of it.

but the end of this beautiful season is coming to a close and the room which has always been mine [besides that summer i had to sleep in the basement] will be no longer. the contents of this room will soon be packed and transferred to a new place, a new city, a new life. the beginning of september, marks the start of life’s next chapter in san francisco. i have a job, a church, even a roommate. only one minor detail remains… an apartment. everything else has fallen into place at the right time… i know this will as well. and so, to san francisco i go.

i cleaned my room one last time this weekend before i tuck away its pieces into boxes. i have a feeling, there’s more in here than i actually realize and over the next two weeks, i’ll find old photos and notes, medals and artwork. they’ll bring a smile to my face as i recall the context and people. perhaps some will be kept as memorials to times past, tools to prompt memories of this kansas life. i’ll probably contemplate which box to put them into before i realize they don’t really need to come with me. maybe its time for them to end themselves, to finish where they started and bring closure to this chapter. then i’ll be freed for whatever’s next where, perhaps i’ll splurge and buy myself a new big girl bed.

if you cannot make it to one of my 5 talks this week on india,
[i know... all the same week... why do i do this to myself?!]
here’s a sampler…

beyond the [walls]

dear india.

part of me wants to close your cover. i’m ready for the next book and to move past my time with you… i don’t want to tell your stories nor try to figure out how you changed me. i’m ready to write your conclusion and put your numbered book on the shelf with the rest of them. i’ll pick you up again someday, when i’m ready to read you again. but not until then.

then part of me is afraid to finish you. i’m beginning to forget what your soap smelled like in the kitchen, the freshness of your morning, and they way your people made me smile. i’ve lost the stillness i found in your mountains and the reflection which came so easy under your stars. i cannot seem to find the purpose and simplicity i had with you and i wonder how things got so complicated so fast since we parted.

i wonder if you miss my presence on your soil, if you even remember my curls amongst your dark hair. did you see me while i was there? did i make a difference in your land? you probably don’t even realize i’m gone… with one billion other people to keep track of, i’d forget me too. but i haven’t forgotten you. i could never forget you.

sometimes, i see you here. i went to an indian emporium the other day, and it was like i was with you again. the namkeen on the dusty shelves and the colored masalas all aligned in a row. i wondered down the aisles for awhile just smiling to myself. i bet a lot of your adopted children can be found here… trying to catch a scent of your perfume, hold your hand for a moment, remember what it was like living under your care. but then i closed the door to my air conditioned car and crossed you off on my ‘to do’ list.

life here is different, i don’t think you’d like it. yes, you’d love the gadgets and toys, the space and opportunity. but you’d miss your afternoon chai. you’d want to actually know your neighbor and wouldn’t understand why we don’t have time for dinner as a family. you wouldn’t see why everyone needs their own space and even with a closet full of clothes how there still could be nothing to wear. a lot of things here wouldn’t make sense to you. but it’s okay, sometimes i don’t understand either.

tonight, in my world, i cannot sleep, so i thought maybe we could have a dream date in yours. i’ll meet you as the sun rises and paints the most brilliant color of orange across the sky. we can go for a walk with laura in the morning and eat breakfast with ivy and gretchen in the kitchen. i’ll sit on the porch, admiring your himalayan peaks and wonder if a more beautiful view is to be had. maybe we can walk down the hill to the bazaar or hike the eyebrow trail even if we get lost. every person we pass, we’ll greet with a friendly ‘nameste’ and respectfully tip of our heads. life won’t be perfect, there will still be lots of problems. but we won’t forget why we’re here, we’d remember why we’ve come.

i know you’re busy with your own children but please give them my love and tell them they’re in my prayers. as one outside of your family, i won’t expect a reply. i just wanted to thank you again for my time with you and for taking your time with me.

until we meet again.
.jill

see photo set here.

a little out of balance.

forgive my neglect.