Changing Colors - A Note From April

Our time here in Juneau has come and now passed. I’ve walked these streets countless times. I have lived these streets, these stairs, this rain, sun, trees, this house.
Now as the last calls are made, as the sale signs go up, as the foot traffic slows and as the warm air transitions into a chillier fall-like breeze and as the leaves slowly shift into a yellow painted beauty – it’s now that we prepare for a farewell.
While we have only been here in Juneau for one season, it was filled with many. Seasons of laughter, peace, growth. Seasons of community, anxiety, discovery, sleep depravity, confusion and courage. Seasons of change.

When you slow down long enough to presence yourself to all the surrounds you, it seems that it is then that it seems to pass as quickly as the leaves seem to fall –heavy and beautiful, but gone in a flash.

So while our season in Juneau has come to an end and while it may have happened all too quickly we will gracefully take our final bow, grateful for the story that has taken place.

Some have already begun that transition from Juneau. From rainforest to beach. From camping to classes. One culture to another…
Those remaining prepare for what the others have already experienced. Suitcases once hiding now shake their dust and prepare for a journey.
The walls of the Gastineau house are bare, creating an even greater path for the echoes of what once was and in a sense what will always be. While we prepare to lock the doors for the final time and what will most likely be the final time for ACA, these walls will continue to signify all of our days here.
Deborah, Alex and myself will board soon board a ferry only to begin a different journey, a journey that will lead us 4000 miles. A journey that will lead us through this beautiful season as it surfaces across the country. It will be a journey filled with hellos and goodbyes. A journey not contingent on any schedule.
It will be a journey like Juneau was, that will be remembered and cherished for years to come.

So to Juneau and all that is embodied by that simple word, -thank you for this season and may you bless those who will take our place just as you have my own.

Falling to Pieces…

So many things in life come and go so quickly, I find myself and others constantly saying “it seems like just yesterday…” in reference to things that happened weeks, months, or even years ago. This moment I am in now may soon be one of those but as of now it is occurring completely opposite of one of those situations. I’ve never had an experience quite like that of which my summer was and I’ve never ended an experience the way that I am now.
It is August 20th, today marks the end of three months of my Alaskan experience, and currently I am aboard the Taku Ferry that is slowly taking me away from something I have grown to love so much. I strongly believe that things happen for a reason and I know that I am personally choosing to return home to finish up my last semester of school but every ounce of me is questioning and wondering why I am letting this place and people I’ve spent the last three months falling in love with drift away. This is the weirdest feeling. I am outside on the top deck propped up on a beach-lounge-about-chair, fully equipped with my sleeping pad and bag, with my Xtratufs and backpack by my side; passing through the Lynn Canal watching the beauty of Juneau, and Alaska pass by on both sides.
There are so many thoughts and feelings pulsating through my body and mind right now I keep jumping back and forth with what to write…keep typing and erasing, this moment is so bittersweet and I can’t even explain what is happening. Ever since I began packing, said goodbye to the house, got in my car, drove to Auke Bay, enjoyed one last meal with some people I love dearly, and drove onto the ferry I have had this unsettling feeling that I forgot something. But as I have had plenty of time to both nap and think, and watch mountain by mountain slip by I have begun to realize that what I forgot is no materialistic object, although I did forget my French press, and maybe a couple other things, it is not those. It is not something that can be replaced, or mailed to me, it may not be something I will ever get back completely…but as cheesy as it may sound I’ve forgotten a piece of myself. Despite my unrealistic hopes at having a great summer but keeping a small distance from everything and everyone, and my small desire to not fully connect so that when I would depart it wouldn’t be as hard, I have miserably failed with no regrets. I managed to have had one of the most amazing summers of my life, and managed to connect and invest a part of myself with more people than I was expecting, in a way that I wasn't expecting, and a place that I had no idea I would.
I can honestly say that I have never made a decision more so for myself than when I decided to move to Alaska and work in Juneau for the summer. It was one of the most refreshing things I have ever done…before that I think I was so boggled down with trying to look out for others or thinking of what others would want of me…and although I do not regret any aspect of my life prior, I feel a certain sense of freeing of myself because of this fact. I came to Juneau with no expectations, no ideas or preconceived notions, just a crap ton of gear, my car, and readiness to dive right in and not look back; I did. With some semi-familiar faces, but time to establish a true-deep-meaningful relationship and some new faces with a heart and mind ready to be impacted and blown away by their being I had one of the most soulful-connecting summers of my life and that is why as the mountains still disappear on either side I feel a part of myself being ripped away by each jagged ridge.
Ode to the Gastineau Girls:
Not only did I get to live in one of the most beautiful places on earth I also got to live with 5 of the most amazing and unique people I have ever met, as well as work with some equally as impacting people. I lived with 5 girls all with similar intersts but searching for something different this summer and although I am sure we all found our own personal desires we also found each other which I think none of us were expecting. As I type this letter I am listening to the Gastineau Girls’ Jams (CD) I made for the girls (Lynn, I gave yours to Debs to give to you) and the 19 songs on it have more memories and meaning to them then one could imagine but that only 6 girls actually know! It is a rarity to be able to live with 5 other girls in one house and not have any major issues, not want to kill each other at the end of the summer, and even though we saw each other every day and worked together we still wanted to be with each other at the end of the day! Now don’t get me wrong there are plenty of people whose names I could mention that were making memories with us every day as well, but this is an Ode to my girls! So Lynn, Deborah, April, Venessa, and Alex, thank you; thank you for teaching me so much in so many different ways, thanks for all being so different and bringing something to the house that each one of us could love so much. Lynn you have a wonderful heart full of kindness, thank you for playing us sweet melodies on your yuke. Deborah, thanks for making me laugh always because that’s who you are but I also cherish those few serious conversations we shared over coffee or dessert. April, we both didn’t think we’d be meeting again anytime soon and never in a thousand years under the circumstances we did, but it was amazing. Our time was not at Cascade but here in Juneau I am so grateful for the deep love we share for each other but would only speak of in situations like today. Vanessa, my roomie, thank you for understanding all my quarks and particularities I have and sometimes even sharing the same ones with me. So many things we did not have to speak of with each other we just knew. Alex, to this day you blow my mind, how genuine you are and the kindness you posses are so powerful and affect everyone you meet in such a great way, thank you for sharing your story with me and allowing me to see the many aspects of you that I feel not many know. You girls all have a piece of my heart and if it weren’t for you my summer wouldn’t have been what it was at all. We have shared so many memories together that will last a lifetime. Although I do not understand why all good things come to an end, I do know that “good things happen for a reason” and I would not trade any of this summer for the possibility of not feeling this sadness I feel now, I can say that saying goodbye to you girls and a couple other people that really impacted me this summer was one of that hardest things I have had to do, and well I have 48 hours on this boat to watch and think of you all as Juneau becomes just another star on a map, that star happens to be tattooed on me, and my heart is the map (April I want to barf too, but some corny things must be said, you know). I am 3 hours in I find myself already “falling to pieces”.
‘Tis goodbye to Juneau and many great people for now, but hello to a life with many more memories and people to stay updated about their lives via the wonderful facebook!
With much sincerity and sadness, longing and love…Audacious (Zip’alish’ous) Alisha

http://www.youtube.com/user/alexmichelevideos#p/a/u/1/JAbFUpu3_x0

http://www.youtube.com/user/alexmichelevideos#p/a/u/0/ym4kT_35ezE

tomorrow comes too soon- a note from april

Juneau has become a sweet melody to me, one of those tunes that brings about the fondest of memories, the tune that echoes through your mind as you sit on the rocks and watch the deep colors of the sunset explode throughout the sky. The melody you will find ringing through months from the moment of your first meeting.
It’s something with those never ending stairs and the sounds produced from the rain drops as they beat down on those empty cans. It’s something with those back trails, those magical trails, the ones that seem to place you in Narnia. And it was something with those banjos that echoed through the night. And with that night we watched the Northern Lights in the sky. And it’s something with those boarded paths and the never ending meadows, something with those mountains that enclose all of us out here. It’s something with these antiqued table skirts and my half empty, oversized cup of coffee that paints the picture of why Juneau has slowly become my home.

But it would be foolish to say that only these things make it home. I’m a firm believer that we were created as relational beings. At the heart of each of us, we are driven by this. We were meant to have these immense feelings of love and appreciation for each other and in return accept this love from others. It’s this love, these relationships that then create for you where you are. It wasn’t the alluring design of the academic buildings or the dorm rooms that drew me to Cascade. It was the relationships that I had established with the community there that made experience for me. And then it was a new family after Cascade that made Portland what it was for me. Now, now it’s this house of people on Gastineau Avenue that makes Juneau what it has been to me. It’s because of these girls that it’s hard to say goodbye to the three that are leaving/have left. It’s because of these girls that it will be hard to say goodbye to Juneau.

Today marks the second leaving of one of our roommates and next Wednesday the third. Goodbyes have always been hard for me. I’ve found that they don’t get any easier either and at this point in our lives goodbyes are as frequent as the rain is here in Juneau. I’ve been privileged to live among some of the most genuine, inspiring people over the last four and a half years and feel honored to call them my friends. One of the commonalities within each of these people’s hearts and my own is that we are all dreamers. We have a heart for adventure. We have a fire burning within us to experience every corner of this world while we are able. So naturally we seem to live temporary lives in extraordinary places while still living fully in these temporary states.

So, while the goodbyes never seem to get easier or less frequent and while my stamp budget continues to multiply, we will all continue on to the next adventure with hearts open for new sights, new family and new stories to share with those whom goodbyes have long since passed.

In a sense, goodbyes are just reminders of how blessed we all are, how lucky we are to have such great people in our lives that we can say it pains us when they leave and how lucky we each are to have hearts with such a great capacity to love those people who come in and out of our lives.

These are only the first goodbyes of many more to come. I suppose the good thing about these dreamer friends of mine is that we will continue to come in and out of each other’s lives as we follow these dreams to new places only to find ourselves crossing paths once again.

So here’s to Lynn, Alisha and Vanessa- three very unique individuals who have helped shape Juneau into our home and whose presence will be greatly missed these next five weeks.

I can confidently say that even when all of the things in this Gastineau house are packed and we lock that front door for the final time, Juneau will remain in her mysterious, mystical sense.

Seasonal

So the summer is coming to a close..for some.
There is already an empty bed and folded sheets where Lynn once laid her head, and tomorrow another one will take the place of the spot Alisha called home these last few months. Wednesday Vanessa's abode will be added to the list and it will be April, Alex, myself (Deborah)and our new roommate Julia (moving in tomorrow) left to close out the remainder of the season.

This reality has yet to sink in fully at the Gastineau house, a truth that will probably be completely different in the days to come. A sisterhood has been formed this summer and the time has passed by it so quickly. What we tried so hard to grasp firmly with both hands, to fully embrace with both arms, is slowly slipping away from us. What seemed like we had forever to live in suddenly at its end and none of us can fully fathom how it got here so quickly and that it is even here now at all, even as it is happening it seems logical to deny it. "How can that be all there is" we ask ourselves, "we were living up each day, but where did it go?"

This is the reality of seasonal living, of seasonal work, of seasons. However the friendships we have formed are not seasonal and though we may not live together in the Gastineau house after this summer, we will stay connected as sisters. So it is that be bid goodbye to half our house, even if we do so in disbelief that the time has come to say goodbye, and we embrace the love and adventures we have shared and promise to keep those two things alive and look forward to sharing them again in the future.

Perspective.

A conversation observed by Lynn and April while shopping at Fred Meyer.


6 year old: (running toward mother) "Mom,I'm so sad, so sad!"
Mom: "Why are you sad honey?"
6 year old: "The sun went away!"
Mom: "Well honey, it will come back sometime. Remember, we don't live in Juneau for the sunshine."
6 year old" "But I'm just so sad."
Mom: (turns toward 3 year old) "Honey, be a lady; don't show everyone panties."




-We are also sad when the sun disappears. Perhaps even more so when we see it's rays peeking through the clouds.

These Days - A Note From April

These are the days.
These are the days we’ve anxiously awaited since our youth, the days when we are free to become.
The days that allow us the freedom to choose how we will spend our days and with whom we will spend those days with.
These are the days that will soon become only memories to warm our hearts.
These days, these memories, are spent here in Juneau.

We live under an inescapable pressure of an incessantly ticking clock – a continual reminder that time is in fact not on our side. No matter what joy or pain we face, it’s by those two hands that we press on.

Here in Juneau I feel that time occasionally ceases its crawl or at least pauses long enough for us to acknowledge the intensity of those moments. Once that acknowledgement has made an appearance, inevitably those moments soon after gravitate toward that ever spinning clock. This is and will always be.

These days the clouds seem to rest a little lower in the sky than they did in the early days of June, concealing the view of anything further than the Gastineau Channel. Rather than lingering visions of mountains off in the distance, all we see these days is a city resting below the fog. While I don’t like that the clouds obstruct my view of the mountains off in the distance, I do fancy the idea that my vision is limited for a time. Thus the clouds, these subsidiaries, facilitate their focal point’s intentions. For now, that focal point is here in Juneau. The focus now is on those moments and memories that we encounter each day. The clouds seem to capture those moments that too often we allow to slip through our busy lives.
The subsidiaries remind me of the remoteness of our location, of this little world that has been carved out in southeast Alaska. A world that will remain unknown to so many because rarely do they stay long enough to understand what lies behind the two syllables.

To me, it seems as if the most beautiful moments in our lives are often those encompassed with some type of time restraint. It’s because of this restraint that our senses seem to become more aware, experiencing things to a much greater degree than had there been no length of time dictating their duration. With a time line hanging overhead you find yourself becoming more intentional with how and whom you spend that time with. In those moments you are aware that the time to be is now. In those moments our perceptions seem to transcend time, cultivating memories that will continue to linger for years to come. Those time restraints prove to make that time all the more beautiful.

And so, with that clock ever ticking we know our days left here in Juneau will prove to slip away more quickly than we’d like. We all have new adventures awaiting us come August and October, but for now, now we are here. We will continue to walk up the never ending series of stairs that lead to this place on Gastineau Avenue that to us, for now, is home.

So here’s to today, to embracing it each morning it arrives.
To those clouds, for directing our focus here.
And here’s to tomorrow, whenever it may arrive.

I do enjoy the clouds, but I wouldn’t mind some sunshine soon.