Reading books, obsession, poets and the star

I’m currently in book reading mode. This happens to me every 5 or 9 years. I suddenly want to read everything, go back to school and watch every movie or documentary on the subject I’m suddenly obsessed with. It’s pretty fun to spend every free moment reading and thinking about reading, and listening to books in the car and on my phone. I’m obsessed.

This time it is Western American Literature and Western American History.

I should say, this time and last time I got obsessed with every writer writing in the late 19th and early 20th Century. I read master theises, I read research and subscribed to journals. I go down associated subjects’ rabbit holes. It’s so fun.

Warning: this is not really related to the outdoors but I do have a triathlon analogy coming up. Read on, please.

I’m reading and buying books from DeVoto, american history scholars, railroads, authors writing about this time period and text books about these subjects. What is interesting to me as I follow link to link, reading about writers and historians and the transcontinental railroad, I see a book about a man writing about the Sonoran Desert. And I remember his name. I read his book when I was living in Tucson and the Sonoran Desert. I remember on my blogspot blog I wrote about the book, and about him.

The irony in the story below is about obsessions and getting so into a subject that it generates a book, a story or a movie – or changes your life.

I dream of being a scholar, professional athlete, world traveler. The closest I can come to realizing a dream is to: read everything, do the work, talk to people. The key to success in any enterprise.

But I digress. Here is the story I wrote January 2014 about a book I loved.

The Fallen Sky and Obsessions

I am reading The Fallen Sky An Intimate History of Shooting Stars. And while, I am no scientist and I know nothing about meteors and meteorites, it is a really interesting book. What hooks me is how the author personalizes a story about the people who are obsessed with meteorites. The author, Christopher Cokinos, is searching for those who are searching for meteors; he is hunting the obsessive types.

I know that type well.

For I am obsessed with triathlon.

I am endlessly fascinated by fellow-obsessed triathletes. I want to know what drives them, what makes them get up in the morning and train, then go to work, and train again. But I’m also obsessed with the west and western writers and people who chose to live in the west.

Maybe my next book needs to be about obsessed nature writers who are triathletes and live in the west.

I am reading five books right now and The Fallen Sky is my number one. I can’t seem to put it down. This is my favorite passage so far. As you read it think of what you are searching for, the journeys you have been on and what you found, and the people you met:

“Whether someone wishes to possess a meteorite to sell it or to crack one open in a laboratory for discovery, the meteorite must first be found or hunted. Which often means you have to be willing to go where the meteorites are ….such journeys have impressed on me that wonder-whether from discovering a geological rarity or tracking down a hidden history or finding a lover – is not as pristine a feeling as some would think. I found that mine was a journey into wonder and its costs. Along the way, I bore changes in my life and realized that I was hunting the lives of the meteorite hunters – not just the stones themselves-and I began to understand these strangers’ lives better when I accepted my own. Quests, after all, can come at a very high price….As to the meteorite clan, they’re a complicated, colorful lot.” (4)

Yes, quests come at a cost and triathletes sure are a colorful bunch.

It’s like the osprey folks. They are obsessed about finding osprey. The obsessed are everywhere.

I’m going to keep reading The Fallen Sky and learn about shooting stars and crazy people who are endlessly fascinated by them, to understand my own obsessions.

Go see the world

“National parks are the best idea we ever had. Absolutely American, absolutely democratic, they reflect us at our best rather than our worst.”  —Wallace Stegner, 1983

I’ve just finished re-watching America’s Best Idea, the PBS special from 2009. In 1988 I wanted to go see the western National Park and signed up for a trip. Now, I just want to go see all the National Parks; I just want to go see the world. As much as I can. Ken Burns inspired travel.

Why I Must Travel, Finding Home

I bought a few plane tickets and booked a couple car rentals this week. I can’t remember when I’ve felt so excited. Well, at least in the last year. 

See, the last year has been filled with moving plans, buying furniture, adopting a dog, buying a house and starting a new job. 

While all of these things are exciting in context, at my age they have produced unwanted  anxiety to the level that I’ve never felt before; although all self-inflicted. While anxious, travel and and seeing new places is the last thing on my mind. 

However, as things have settled down, one of the things that makes me want to travel is reading. After a period of stress and watching too much television, I have a thought about a book. I find a book on my bookshelf, or in a random online search and I’m suddenly reading for hours – I’m back to the self I like. 

The reading frenzy started with Thomas Wolfe and Look Homeward, Angel; a book I read 20 years ago and fell in love with. I live 90 minutes from the setting of the book and where Wolfe grew up. I drove over to Asheville and walked around Old Kentucky Home. 

I started reading his biographies and literary scholarship. I fell in love with him again. But reading Wolfe has led me back to my favorite author, Wallace Stegner. Reading Stegner makes me want to travel west, and so I booked my flight to Phoenix and can’t wait to see the desert, Grand Canyon and Tucson. 

Right now, I’m on a reading frenzy. I have books lined up: The Secret Knowledge of Water, Following Esabella, Dakota, Marking the Sparrow’s Fall and more. 

I’ve also started listening to audiobooks while driving. This was suggested to me by my friend Missy. I’ve mostly listened to music while driving all over East Tennessee. I live in the country so it’s a 15 minute drive minimum to anywhere I want to go except for the grocery store which is two miles down the road. YAY. I’m listening to Big Rock Candy Mountain by Wallace Stegner. Next up: Angle of Repose. I didn’t think I’d be able to concentrate on the words while driving but I can now lose myself in his descriptions of the midwest and west, his characters and their lives. 

Reading and traveling make me question everything, and that is always good for me. It makes me reevaluate my choices and where I live. I live in the south and after one year, I truly like living here and enjoy learning about this region. I’m reading books about its history, about Great Smoky Mountains National Park and nonfiction from local writers. 

As much as I like living here, and feel at home here, it’s always been a pattern of my thinking that I need to go away from a place, even if it’s just for a few days, to really appreciate it. I need that distance to think about my feelings towards a place I chose. Yes, I like living here but why do I really like it? One of the hard things to get used to living in East Tennessee is how far west in the eastern time zone it is; it is so dark in the morning. Right now, the sunrise is at 6:45 am and can’t walk dogs or run in pitch black for safety; from wildlife or crazy people.  

Distance helps me sort out complicated feelings of home, place and choices. In the last 25 years, home has always been where my dogs are. Could this be my forever home, a place I own and where all my stuff is? 

I’ve been told that if you don’t own a home you are considered homeless by the government. All these years I’ve been homeless while searching for my forever place. So there is this to think about while traveling and walking around the desert. 

I do know that as soon as I start writing packing lists and preparing dogs for the kennel my travel anxiety will begin. As much as I love being away from home, or the place I live, I will miss it and can’t wait to get back home again.

Tennessee Update: dogs, running and views

It’s been a crazy few weeks where I’m trying to figure out what I’m suppose to be.

Am I an ultra runner?

Well I ran today and back on a training plan.

Dog lover?

I’m taking care of my dogs and wanting a third dog so my young pup has a playmate.

Worker bee?

I love where I work and that is always a good thing for me.

Friend?

Kassandra is visiting in a few weeks and I have a bunch of things to do such as buying a bed for the spare room. I can’t wait to see her and show her my place.

Kassandra at Nubble Light in Maine from her trip first trip to visit me.

Hiker?

Now that I don’t live in Gatlinburg it’s tough to hike in the park. Ugh the traffic but I have to get in the park and hike/run to get ready for my ultra running season.

It’s been such a transition this last 45 days and I’m finally figuring everything out.

Here are the things that make me happy and know I’m going to get through everything to meet training goals, have fun, do what I say I will do and explore the world.

Monologue – there’s no such thing as a life lived happily ever after.

After weeks of lackluster training and so much stress of homeownership, I sit and watch a random show that pops up. It’s the Meredith Grey last day episode. I just love the monologues of this show.

When I moved to Tennessee in July last year, I needed a great show to watch to relax at night to take my mind off the bears around the rental house and steep windy roads that I drove to get away from the rental house. I surely thought I would plunge my car off one of these roads and no one would find me for days. But I digress ..

In July I watched an episode, and Meredith Grey’s monologue hit me like a ton of bricks. I was making so many changes; and at times doubted everything. I posted this on Facebook:

The monologue from July.

Now, here I am, again, trying to relax after stupid homeowner stuff is stressing me out. I watch this random epidode and it hits me. My life is what I made it. And while, I wish I had someone in my life to help me figure out the well, the septic tank (I live in the country, man), how to hang curtains and bathroom hardware, how to landscape a yard that I think is infested with weeds, and how to get weird smells out of carpet when you can’t open the windows because the prior owner puttied them shut (I ordered new windows and with the supply chain problem I’ll get them in 2025).

I’m trying to figure out all this stuff, while training for ultras, taking care of dogs and trying to figure out if I can adopt a third dog, and working hard to do great things at my workplace. Trying to figure all this out is hard stuff. I’m feeling sorry for myself.

Then I hear this from Grey’s Anatomy.
[Isn’t it amazing how words can transform your thoughts?]

I’ve been through broken bones and a broken home. And the death of people I love but I’m still here. 

I never chose the safety of what was known when there was the possibility of more to be discovered. 

I’ve had adventures that most people only dream about. 

And I’ve had loses that I still dream about. 

And if there is one thing I’ve learned in all my adventures, it’s that there’s no such thing as a life lived happily ever after. 

Unless the happily means simply that we’re still alive. That the sun is rising on another day. Because with every sunrise comes the possibility of happiness. And also the possibility of heartache. 

And sometimes it’s all rolled up together. 

I came to understand as a very young child that when the imagination is limitless, life’s possibilities are endless. But I learned that the hard way. 

I learned it through yearning and frustration and ache and longing. And sometimes desperation for a different life from the one I was living. I learned to stretch my imagination and spread my wings. And to allow for all the options life had to offer. Not only the ones I could see with my eyes. I stretched for the ones I could feel with my heart. 

As long as the sun rises on your life, there will be new dragons to slay. 

The end of my story is not any kind of ever after because I’m still alive. I’m still here. 

And the sun still rises on my life. 

The Sun Still Rises On My Life.

Keep training. Keep adopting dogs. Keep doing a great job at work, life and friendship. That is what I’m thinking tonight.