O nascimento do Salvador

Birth
This time of year we talk a lot of birth. The birth of our Savior was/is one of the most important events to come to pass in the history of humanity. We sing songs about this event. We read scriptures about this event. But really we know nothing about the details of this event. Our conversation lacks important elements.
We see depictions of that night and they always seem to skip the pivotal moment. The moment of birth. We hear a cry and a babe magically appears, all clean and swaddled in Mary's arms. It reminds me of my mom talking about my own birth. There's a video of my birth and my mom always complains that the person taking the video didn't capture the main event because of issues of modesty--but that's the moment that hits me at a birth every time. Watching a baby come slowly and gently into the world is one of the most blessed and holy things to watch. You feel you are at the precipice of creation and connection of body and spirit. Why would you skip that?
No one ever thinks about the process or significance if this event. The details of Mary's labor and birth. How did her young body handle the oncoming waves? Those strong surges through her uterus. How did she process that pressure of the wee babe descending down the birth canal. Was it hard for her to relax in that strange place? The stable, among the animals.
As she transitioned though to second stage, did she yell or scream? Did she curse God? Joseph? Or did she go deep into herself to find the divine strength of her Mother in Heaven to help her? Did she quietly labor or did she moan or hum or sing or cry? Did she move around the stable? Did she do a birth dance?
Who were the women who helped her? Who were the midwives? Were they just carrying through with their skills, not realizing the significance of this holy child? Or did they hear the angels singing Hosannas and join in the praises?
Was there blood? Did Mary hemorrhage? How long was she in labor for? How long did it take for her cervix to dilate? How long did she push for? Did her perineum tear? What healing herbs, salves and tinctures did her attendants give to her? Did she give birth standing up? On her hands and knees?
Did the little babe latch on to her breast right away? Did the wee babe get bits of colostrum full of important immunities and nutrients?
OH TO HAVE BEEN THERE IN THE SAME SPACE TO FEEL THE BONDING ENERGY from that post-partum rush of oxytocin between Mary and the little babe. Oh the tears. Of joy, of perineal pain, of post-partum contractions.
What did the placenta look like? Did they cut it soon after birth? Did they leave it attached till it dried up and fell off? Did they wait for it to stop pulsing with blood till they cut it? Did Mary consume the placenta to take advantage of those nutrients and balancing hormones?
Oh how I would have loved to have attended our Savior's birth. Oh how I would have loved to have been with Mary and supported her and guided her breath and helped her relax her shoulders and forehead. Oh how I would have loved to reassure her when her eyes filled with doubt. Oh how I would have loved to be with Joseph. Oh Joseph. Thank you, thank you Joseph. I don't know if you were even with your wife. I can't imagine that being with a laboring in women was a normal practice at that time. But I imagine that you were there with her in that small, holy space. How could you have ever dreamed of leaving your young laboring wife? I can't imagine. She needed you and I see that you needed her. This moment was intimate and lovely. To see your wife transcend human weakness and pain and be vulnerable and open. What did it feel like? This wasn't even your physical child. How did you process that? This birth would be different then the births of your other children that would follow. How connected did you feel with this child? This holy child.
Oh how I would have loved to be with that young, young couple. That primagravida and her husband. That special moment when a mother finally has the Being she has been growing in her womb after forty weeks and a father finally feels like a father as he holds his babe.
It brings me to tears to think of that birth. That very special birth. The energy, the love, the blood, the tears, the cry of the babe.
I love the song Silent Night. I love that it sings of the holy silence following the birth. But I wish there was a way to sing praise of the birth itself. Of the blood, of the surges, of the moment. I wish that in addition to songs about the shepherds and the wise men, that there were also songs about the attending midwives. I wish this all existed because I think it's an element of the birth of our Savior that we do not choose to think about nor comprehend.
Birth is a mirror of life. If you have ever participated in a birth you see and feel this. There are so many parallels.
Thank you Mary. Thank you Joseph. Thank you silent midwives. Thank you baby Jesus.
Merry Christmas.

Saí fora! Vai estudar!

I'm back to school. After a period of prolonged procrastination it's time to buckle down and get things done. And of course this also will mean an influx of blog posts.

I will now be comparing the BYU library with the UVU library, because I switch between the two as my study locales.

BYU:
+you can park in visitor parking for free
+connecting to the Internet is really easy
-during finals it's hard to find a good, quiet place to do homework
-it's further away than UVU
+I have an obvious bias to the campus because BYU is my alma mater.

UVU:
-unless you get a visitors pass at parking services (which is not part of the main campus) you have to pay for parking
+it's a lot closer that BYU
-connecting to the Internet is a pain.
+it's much more spread out than BYU's library, so finding a nice place to study is easy.
+beards abound.

sem título

I know. It's faux pas to mention something for the third time in a row in a blog. Get some new material right?
(But let's just say that I've listened to Go Long by Joanna Newsom over 20 times on my iTunes on my computer, and probably more than double that on my iPod in the past week and a half. That's over 60 times. The song itself is 8 minutes long. That's over 8 hours of the same song. Nothing else sounds good to me.)

I'd like to thank T. Bell for the following:

Nature was here something savage and awful, though beautiful. I looked with awe at the ground I trod on, to see what the Powers had made there, the form and fashion and material of their work. This was that Earth of which we have heard, made out of Chaos and Old Night. Here was no man's garden, but the unhandselled globe. It was not lawn, nor pasture, nor mead, nor woodland, nor lea, nor arable, nor waste land. It was the fresh and natural surface of the planet Earth, as it was made forever and ever,--to be the dwelling of man, we say,--so Nature made it, and man may use it if he can. Man was not to be associated with it. It was Matter, vast, terrific,--not his Mother Earth that we have heard of, not for him to tread on, or to be buried in,--no, it were being too familiar even to let his bones lie there,--the home, this, of Necessity and Fate. There was clearly felt the presence of a force not bound to be kind to man. It was a place of heathenism and superstitious rites,--to be inhabited by men nearer of kin to the rocks and to wild animals than we....What is it to be admitted to a museum, to see a myriad of particular things, compared with being shown some star's surface, some hard matter in its home! I stand in awe of my body, this matter to which I am bound has become so strange to me. I fear not spirits, ghosts, of which I am one,--that my body might,--but I fear bodies, I tremble to meet them. What is this Titan that has possession of me? Talk of mysteries! Think of our life in nature,--daily to be shown matter, to come in contact with it,--rocks, trees, wind on our cheeks! the solid earth! the actual world! the common sense! Contact! Contact! Who are we? where are we?

HENRY DAVID THOREAU

"KTAADN" 

I need some solid earth/actual world contact. 

tá melhor do que o alternativo

I think I should be in love.
And not being set up on blind dates.


Also. An unrequited love for Joanna Newsom has been reawakened within my bones and I can't stop listening. Can't stop won't stop.

As coisas belas que me dá esperança

Lately, a lot of things have been moving me to tears.
Every time I see this preview.
This movie.
This song.
The full moon tonight. Are you for real?
This article.
I am so grateful for beautiful things. Beautiful people. Most of the time I'm quite pessimistic when it comes to my opinion of the world and the state of things, but I still like to to hope the good in this world outweighs the bad.
These things help me believe that. They're small and extremely insignificant, but they move me.

Um tempestade de neve trouxe a inauguração de inverno

Sometimes I like to do things by myself. Not because I prefer to do things by myself, but sometimes what I prefer is not what others prefer, and thus requires me to do them alone.
Movies: I'm not afraid to see them alone. If I really want to see something, I'll see it.
Snowboarding: I feel like I bro-out way too much when I ride, and so perhaps it's a good thing that I do that alone.
Being alone doesn't scare me.
But it's not what I prefer.


Also. I've been on the internet for a while. And I've borne my heart out to it for almost as long. That might not have been a good thing during my more tumultuous years, but I can't help that now. I was reading my livejournal (Yes. My Livejournal. I had two. I was so cryptic. So emotional. And I loved to say bad four-letter words.)


All this leads up to this point--today I went boarding up at Brighton. It was opening day and it was so perfect. Over 4 feet of beautiful dry snow. My legs are paying for it. But it's something that makes me so so happy. I've said that before. Several times actually. As I was looking through ye olde Livejournal entries, it was one of the only things that I consistently wrote about. Take this line from 21 Jan. 2004:

this smoggy, utah air makes me sick. physically sick. it's so full of pollution. i can't see the mountains. i can't see the sun, moon, stars or even the blue sky. it makes me so sad. driving up to brighton on saturday was amazing. as the elevation grew, so did the clarity. i could see the sky, and not only could i see the sky, but i could see the BLUE sky. up there you look down at the valley, and you don't want to go back. im going back up there on monday. i can't wait. it really makes me happy.

Or this gem from 04 Mar. 2004:

i went riding today, and now i can do jumps. im very proud of myself. 
i can't wait to go again.

11 Dec. 2004:

we went riding this morning up at Brighton, and it was probably the best thing that has happend to me all week. i was SO happy to get back on a board-you really have no idea how happy it made me.

13 Feb. 2005:

best weekend ever.dad and tricia flew in on thursday. 8 hours snowboarding on friday with the fam at brighton.8 hours saturday doing the same thing.my body is pretty much dying because i rode so hard, but i couldn't care less because it was my best yet. 

18 Mar. 2005:

so happy. the kind of happy that happens when you catch 3 feet of air and land perfectly in the fresh powder below. 

Yup. Little known fact. I love to board.

Panoramic on top of Majestic

Jammin' to some Kanye post-ride

será que pudia ser uma boa cientista?

the nerd in me will always love this.

i miss the scientist in me, and part of me regrets not taking that grad student's advice that one time about going on to get a master's in physiology because i was really really good at it. maybe someday i will.
but the midwife inside of me says, "no way, jose."

o momento mormon se acabou--finalmente

And all I can do is listen to this: 

(best song, awesome video. especially at 1:47)

Welcome back 'bama. :)

"a vote for obama 2012 is a vote for jesus 2016"

-Brittany

LOLZ

é bom ser pobre

Some days I am so sad. I am in debt and I never seem to have enough money.
Other days I am content with my rational of, "It's only money, who needs it."
Today I am healthy, not so wealthy, and a tinsy bit wise. I'm on the up and up.

pontos pra pensar

The point is. I try not to worry about things. Most of my friends know this about me. I'm pretty chill, and I try to take things one step at a time. It usually works out great. I rarely freak out. I stay unusually calm in situations where I really should be crying or yelling or having a nervous breakdown. (In my lines of work, those situations come up more often then what the normal person is probably used to.) I've gotten so many remarks from people thanking me for my calming energy that I bring into a room, that I actually believe it now. I'm happy that I keep cool under pressure. I wonder though, does it keep me from feeling things correctly? Or from letting what I really feel come out into the open where I can process things?
This is why I am grateful for my sounding boards. I have a couple of them, but E has become the biggest sounding board as of late. We're each other's sounding boards actually. We're separated enough by our friends and social circles and ages that there is rarely criss-crossing and so it is safe to say and feel what we are really feeling.

[I worry that I induct un-wanting people into that sounding board area. If I've ever done that to you, I'm sorry. Not everyone wants to hear what I have in my head, and I need to remember that.]

Here's another point. I started listening to Elliott Smith again last night. And I haven't stopped. I fell asleep to it. Woke up to it. Showered with it. I'm writing to it. It's been years since I've done this, 7 years to be exact. He's not my favorite artist, but one of those guys that have a place, and he's found a place in my life at this moment. 

The other point is that my phone is dead. I let it die last night. I forgot to bring my charger with me (I'm visiting T in GJCO.) T has a charger, but I was thinking of how once I was phone-less for a month and how awesome it was, and thought I would go phone-less for a day. Or two. Sorry if that means you haven't been able to get a hold of me, but it's been months since I haven't been on-call. Email me.
Next point. Little ones make you feel so much love. This weekend I slipped through a couple of mini (no really, they were tinsy) slot canyons with little nieces and (not so little) nephews. They make you feel like a cool aunt too. (Aunt, not ant. I'm from Connecticut--we say things proper there.)
Proximo ponto. Sometimes you are sitting in a Sunday School lesson on the Beattitudes and it's an awesome lesson, and you're feeling inspired to make a comment, so you do. In your comment, you let the words "suck" and "crap" out. (Trust me, it was a pretty awesome comment.) (By omitting "shit", I thought I was doing a good job in censoring my language...) Then after your comment is finished your sister (who's ward you are visiting) leans over and laughs at you for using "salty" language, and then you notice several class members sneaking glances at the young folk who's using inappropriate language. And then you really take a look around the room and realize that the room's average age (not including outliers, AKA, yourself) is probably 65 years old. Then somehow you feel badly for perhaps offending the elderly. Oops.

One last point. Sometimes you have friends who can say, "Don't freak out, just enjoy each day." And I really miss and love those friends. 

Posso respirar agora. Estou livre.

I had my last birth for a month last night. Now what I need is for someone to take me to the mountains, where there is no cell service, and there I will stay until I have recovered from the last month.
That is all.
Amen.

nucleo duro

I think the shuffle function on my iPod was crushing on Ian MacKaye tonight. Songs by Minor Threat, Fugazi and The Evens came on one after another. 

And then Mogwai took the rest of the night away. 

I'm in a little bit of heaven. 

Queria que guardaria o dia do Senhor melhor

I work on Sundays sometimes. Like maybe once a month. On the one hand I don't really care because it's once a month and not really a big deal to me. On the other it's Sunday. Jesus' day. A holy day right?
I have always struggled with this principle. Like, does it REALLY matter if once a month I miss church because I'm working? I don't think so. And when I miss church because I'm attending a birth I can't help but to think that there's no place I'd rather be than at the birth of a wee one-a new soul. It's a beautiful moment. A holy moment that perhaps is most appropriate when it occurs on a Sunday.

But when I'm sitting at medical research facility (the job that pays the bills, ya' know?) all day performing monotonous assessments on patients I can't help but think: so this is what they mean when they say that Sunday should be a day separate, apart from other days of the week. A day to rest, release and meditate. Today is a day to breath deeply. To remember and reflect on the past weeks. A day to be aware of blessings. I'm more and more convinced that I need to fill my life with more and more love and compassion.
I'm probably not going to stop my once a month Sunday work days. I'm probably not gonna stop not feeling bad about making grocery store runs for forgotten or missed ingredients for Sunday dinner. I will probably keep hiking every once in a while. I will definitely keep listening to the bluegrass station.
But I will commit to resting this tired body. To reconnecting with loved ones. To being aware and grateful. I commit to loving more and needing less. I commit to thinking about the important things. I commit to recommitting every week because God knows I forget.
Happy Sunday friends. I hope it finds you well.

Eu escrevo músicas ás vezes

And they are always short and a little repetitive, but they are always very cute.

I live in a town that's nestled up against the mountains in the corner of a valley. When I sit on the porch at night it makes me very lonely and amazed at the same time.
Lonely because sometimes you want to share really lovely things with people--and maybe even the dog won't sit still enough to do that with you.
Amazed because even though the valley itself is getting larger and busier everyday, the sky just keeps getting vaster and the stars keep on falling and the moon keeps on rising.

Since regaining a little bit of my soul back (my iPod: we had a really long parting of ways and we are now reunited along with all music circa 2003-2007), I have been listening to a lot of death cab. I know, I know. But really I KNOW. Remember how awesome that band is? And how their music speaks to the scientific soul? AND the romantic soul? The heartbroken and the one that moved on? I remember. You know when a song comes on in your car and it's so good that even though you've arrive at your destination and you've parked the car, you can't bring yourself to turn the key to off? That's dcfc. Every time. It felt good to remember them. Like old friends that I didn't forget about, but like my iPod, got separated. I'm so glad they're back.

Tonight I wished on one of those stars that keep on falling. It was beautiful. And I believe.

Meu corpo é um terra de guerra

But not like that...
The past four days my body has been rejecting the things I've been putting in it. Rejecting it forcefully. I could maybe understand why if I was a horrible eater, but I like nice things and that is above all not limited to food. My mom thinks it's giardia. I don't know if I buy it, but it's the only thing that makes even the slightest sense.
It seemed to be letting up today but alas, when I took a bite of that mini cheesecake tonight I could eat no more. Since when does cheesecake and other sweets make my body cringe???
In addition, I know I'm significantly dehydrated which makes me nervous. I don't like not having water inside of me.

I had an impromptu energy work/chakra balancing session yesterday. The unexpectedness was countered by the need for it. Basically I was told I needed one and then was given one. She apologized, and I don't think she realized how much I love/crave balance and flow. I think it's time to start using the patchouli again.

I also had an unexpected call from a massage therapist who was hired by someone I barely know to give me a massage.

The point: even though health wise my life has royally sucked this week (I feel depressed every time I see a good spread of food, knowing that I will barely be able to eat a child's portion if at all...) every other part has rocked. And I guess that makes it kinda worth it if you're a glass-half-full type of human.
Beijos

Se-mudei da casa da árvore

I moved. I left the treehouse on Monday. No more sleeping out under the tree branches in my hammock. No more swaying in the wind or rocking myself to sleep. And no more waking up to chickens scratching.
I'm a little sad, but mostly I'm happy to be back in a bed in my own little space. I'm happy to have my own bathroom and a puppy. I have little ones that worry if I'm not home by a certain time. I have a TV in my room (I'm 26 and I have never had this). And a pool. I have a pool.
I'm feeling a little overwhelmed with some things that I could have had better control over, so I'm going into slight withdrawal mode. I'm sorry if you don't see me for a while. I still love you.
But it's time to catch up with myself and get organized.
Time to stop thinking and start doing.
Time to follow my heart.
Wu-tang style.

tenho uma obsessão

I have an obsession. I got home almost 2 months ago from the Appalachian Trail. I hiked just under 500 miles of the 2200 mile trail.
I plan on going back on trail next May.
And IT'S ALL I CAN THINK ABOUT.
No really. (T-9 months!!)
I feel as if I'm in the infatuation stage of a new relationship. I'm waiting for things to die down and for me to not get butterflies in my stomach every time I think about the AT. Every time--butterflies. What does it mean?
I think in ounces now. It's important to me. The lightest my pack was was 30 lbs. (fully loaded--water, food, etc), and I'm trying to shave about 10 lbs. off. Reduced pack weight will help me hike better.
I also have to revise my food. I ate REALLY well on trail. I constantly carried way too much food with me. I could probably cut out a 1/3-1/2 of the food I carried with me. I need to eat a lot more rice and beans. Seriously. Gods gift to men. And so help me if I have to eat another piece of beef jerky or just-add-water hummus. More Cliff Bars!
I realize this of no interest to anyone who would read my bloggy blog, but it's seriously something that I haven't been able to get out of my head. I had to get it out.
I just want to drink water from a rock again.

moro numa casa numa árvore

I live in a tree house. I got home in June from my epic AT trip a little depressed about coming back to real life. I was dirt poor. And all I wanted was to BE OUTSIDE. I had the option of living with my parents or finding a cheap place to live--which the cheapest around is Provotowne in the summertime. In my search for cheap housing, my friend Justin offered his tree house as a bit of a joke, but mostly serious, option for me to live in. I thought about it and it was obvious as to what my answer would be. So I "moved" in.

What I say is a tree house would actually be more accurately described as a tree platform, because there are no walls and there is no roof, just a platform and railings. I hung my hammock up and called it home. It's not quite as glamorous as one might think. There are bugs (I had to buy a bug net). It's really hot sometimes (I have a fan). To go to the bathroom I have to climb all the way down a ladder and go through a gate and into the back of the house to use the guest bathroom (I have to carry my headlamp with my 24/7). It's not the most secure place (A drunk man slept in my hammock while I was out of town a couple of weeks ago... That will NOT be happening again). I cannot unpack all my things (My things are scattered all over between Salt Lake City, Sandy, Provo and my car). 

But there are also a lot of pros to living in a tree house. Like, I get to sleep in a tree house every night! Being outside keeps me a little bit more alive than not sleeping outside. I get to wake up every morning to the sound of scratching chickens below me, which might not sound very nice, but I love it. Also the roofing crew next door plays awesome classic rock/country all day as they've been working on the neighbor's roof. I get internet in my tree house and electricity (read: extension cord). I also never buy food because Justin has an obsession with finding and obtaining large amounts of free food. He came home last night with a bucket (yes that's right) of a beautiful green salad. 

I used to be roof-less, but the other day a poor bird ran into the mirror that I have hanging up. I felt bad so I decided to put a tarp roof up to keep other poor birds from flying into themselves, as well as to protect from the random rainstorms that happen.

Essentials: banana chair, curtain, bug net

My hammock-side light. 

Home sweet tree house. 

retornei and chorei

I am back. Back in Utah. Back from walking 466.9 miles of the Appalachian Trail. Back from 31 days of absolute clear thinking. Back from the humidity and NEVER being dry. Back from Georgia, North Carolina, Tennessee and Virginia.
People look at me like I'm crazy when I tell them where I've been. They say, "You are so much braver than I," or "I could never be gone that long, it would get old," or "Weren't you scared to be alone?" It's hard to understand the culture of the AT if you have never walked it. It's safer then a Wal-Mart parking lot at midnight.
The trail becomes a place of belonging. You begin to say things like, "When I get home tonight..." when referring to the place you will sleep that night. The trail becomes your home. Home is where you pitch your tent or throw your sleeping bag. Other hikers become your brothers and sisters and you are a family. You laugh together and walk together and eat just-add-water meals together. Although you meet so many wonderful people on the trail, it is still a walk of solitude. It is still your own walk. You make it what you want.
You worry about two things on the trail:
1. Where will I rest my tired body tonight? Shelter? Tent?
2. Where will I get my water today? How far is it to my next water source?
The freedom that is allowed a mind when it has so little to worry about is almost overwhelming. The act of thinking about almost nothing each day was meditative and therapeutic. Things I have worried about or stressed about before are easier to think about again because thinking isn't as clouded a task as before. It was like driving up Big Cottonwood Canyon from Salt Lake County in February out of an inversion: things were clear.
I was so nervous as I was leaving. I was scared to be alone. I was scared of injury. I was scared that it would be too hard. I was scared that I wouldn't be able to walk the distance I had intended. I was scared that my gear would fail.
Turns out you are never alone on the AT--I never camped alone. Yes, you may have days when you don't see a soul, but you also have days where you have abundant company. Injury is a very valid fear, but thankfully, I was free of any serious injury. I had a couple blisters on my toes the first week, but they soon calloused and I was blister-free. My knees were champions, and I have my trekking poles to thank for that. I carried my knee brace with me the whole time, and I swear that it acted as a threat to my knees and they reacted by being strong. At times the walk was so challenging, but the funny thing is that if you just keep putting one foot in front of the other, eventually that uphill will end and you will make it to the top. Distance was my favorite fear to overcome. In my first 10 days, I was challenged to get to a location that I was originally giving myself 12 days to get to, and I did it. In that first week, I pulled off my first 20 mi. day and several other high-mileage days. My gear was never once an issue, and if it had been, it wouldn't have been and ISSUE.
My fears melted away within the first two days. I felt so at home in those first days, and that set an excellent tone for the rest of my walk.
As I finished up my walk in Damascus, VA, I was so sad to leave. Better planning or other life circumstances might have allowed me to walk to entire trail, up to Maine, in one go, but perhaps it wasn't supposed to be. I left with a sad heart. Sad to be leaving a trail that had welcomed me and loved me and let me be. I have cried a lot since returning, but I'm satisfied with my walk. Sitting on top of a beautiful bald called Beauty Spot, I had a similar feeling  to one that I had right before I left Brasil: I did what I needed to do and I have felt what I have needed to feel and I have done the best I could and I return with satisfaction and gratitude in my heart for the experiences that I have had.
Next year will bring another leg of the journey. I will walk another 500 mile of the trail, or perhaps more. I now know what to expect and how to better prepare myself. It's going to be an amazing journey, and I can't wait to continue.
Now for some pictures:

Engraçado

Sometimes Fb mobile thinks I'm in love with Frank Pepe's Pizza (which I am), so they put it as my profile picture:

'to preparando

kinda legit. 

estou caminhando nas montanhas Apalaches

Last summer I was dying of heat and humidity in Northeastern Connecticut working as a cook at Yale-Myers Forest for Yale University.

 I cooked scrumptious meals for 10-20 people everyday. It was fun, but towards the end of my summer I promised myself I would do something special the coming year to make up for the monotony of that summer. Enter the Appalachian Mountains.

I've wanted to hike the Appalachians ever since hiking the last 100 miles of this 2100 mile trail almost 5 years ago. They run from Springer Mountain in Georgia to Mount Katahdin in Maine. I wanted to hike the whole trail, but taking 6 months off from midwifery school/midwifery assisting is not really an option right now, but 4 weeks? Totally doable. From May 15th to June 15th I will be hiking the first section of the AT--starting in Georgia and ending in Damascus, VA. I will be carrying all I need on my back. I carry my food with me, picking up re-supply packages along the way.

I am going alone. Do not fret. I have my mace and my knife, and I will be hiking on the most popular trail in the world, hiked by thousands every year.

My hope is that it will be some sort of journey of self-discovery. It will surely be a challenge. I have never done anything like this in my life. But I'm pretty hardcore--they don't call me Wilderness for nothing...

In an effort to disconnect from the outside world, I'm getting rid of ye ole FB. I'm taking my phone with me for emergency purposes, but I'll be deleting my social media apps. I don't want to even think about the internets. I will be sending out emails every week when I go through towns to let my parents and those who want to know that I'm okay. (If you want to receive those emails too, let me know.)

Dia novo. Da ressurreição.

Happy Easter. Feliz Páscoa.
Yesterday was a day of reminders for me. It started with a birth of a child. I helped this angel come smoothly into the world and it was hard and challenging and humbling. I helped repair the damages to the body that birth can leave sometimes. Signs and scars from the very hard things we go through. Birth helps me feel new every time. I think that's why I like it so much. It's a renewal and a reminder of all that should and can be. It's a healing process for me.
I cut some hairs next. Spring cleaning. Lightening the load (literally) from off my shoulders.
I watched this video (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ym0jXg-hKCI&sns=em) (sorry I'm blogging from my phone so links aren't an option right now.) and felt good and reminded me of how proud I am to be who I am.
I went to Take Back The Night and walked the Provo river trail with a hundred other people all holding lighted candles. It reminded me that I am a woman and a human and I am strong and feminine and divine.
I went to the Easter Vigil at the Madeleine Cathedral in slc. I cried and cried sitting in my seat. Listening to the music and the choir and reflecting on the ups and downs of the day. Thinking about healing.
Speaking with Mandygirl right before bed as I'm cozied up in the covers and again I am reminded of the days events and am still thinking about healing.
I am so glad tomorrow is Easter. With the coming of the full moon--as it wanes toward a new moon--I hope we can all have new beginnings. That we can heal wounds. That we can see each other as humans and love every inch of each other. This is the season for rebirth and growth and (though I may sound like a broken record...) healing. I love you.
Carry on.

A vida e complicado as vezes

I think about that song by that one Canadian chick that goes like: 

"Life's like this and you fall and you crawl and you break and you take what you get..."

It's a horrible song, I know. Maybe that's why it appeals to me at times. Because life sucks sometimes and here's a sucky song to go along with it. It's perfect. 

My life is just fine though. I have almost nothing to complain about, but I'm getting the itch for change and pretty soon it will be here. 

Starting May13th. 

gosto disso. muito.

i like this a lot.

As coisas que me fazem feliz

I have composed a simple list of things I like. There are many additional things, but these are the ones that I could think of, and have been thinking of lately. Here they are. 

Things I like:

1.       Food

a.       Sweets

                                                               i.      Yogurt-covered pretzels

                                                             ii.      Tootsie rolls

b.      Cheese

                                                               i.      Sharp cheddar

                                                             ii.      Chevre

c.       Nachos

d.      (good) Pizza

                                                               i.      Especially if made with thick-cut pepperoni

e.      Popcorn (homemade)

f.        Smoothies with spinach or carrots

g.       Greens

                                                               i.      Arugula

                                                             ii.      Spinach

                                                            iii.      Kale

h.      Black beans

i.         Fresh-from-the-garden anything

j.        Very nutritious and warm bread

2.       Nature

a.       Mountains

b.      Sunshine on my face

c.       TREES

d.      Babbling brooks

e.      Long long hikes

f.        Solitude

3.       Miscellaneous

a.       Sleeping in till 9am

b.      Painting my nails

c.       Drinking filtered water and/or fresh spring water

d.      Downton Abbey

e.      My Montbell jacket

f.        My Horse Chestnut earrings

g.       The last hundred yards of a very long run

4.       Birth

a.       Birth

b.      Midwifery

5.       Technology

6.       Books

a.       Books about birth

b.      Books about history

c.       Books about food

d.      Books with lots of pictures

e.      Kids books

f.        Harry Potter

g.       Classic novels

7.       Blogs

a.       Picture blogs

b.      Vlogs

c.       Recipe blogs

8.       Music

a.       Music that my friends play

9.       Family

a.       Family dinners

b.      Nieces and nephews who like you

c.       Good/nice siblings

d.      Family reunions

10.   Spirituality

a.       Heavenly Parents

b.      Jesus

c.       Love

                                                               i.      Love unfeigned

d.      Silence

11.   Friends

a.       “hang-outs”—real-life or internet based

12.   Gifts

13.   Work

a.       Nice colleagues who look out for you and you for them

b.      Company lunches

c.       Direct deposit

14.   Travel

a.       (not being a)tourist

b.      Experiencing places and people

15.   My driver’s license

16.   Feminism

17.   The good ol’ days of college

18.   Rock-climbing

Lindsey confessed a while ago that she can't stop watching pregnant Beyonce dance. Well, I'm here to join the confession. I. CAN'T. STOP. WATCHING. THIS.

Seriously though, I watch at least once a day. NBD.

Also, RIP Whitney.

Ninguém quer ser o meu amigo

My fb app has been acting up all day. It sits there and tells me I have a friend request, when in fact, I don't at all. Or do I really? It fools me every time. If you want to be my friend and I haven't said yes yet, I'm sorry. I blame it on my phone.

Obrigado por ter lendo o meu blog.

I don't know how I never knew about this. K$ has enlightened my life by showing this to me.
Guys. Googlestats. According to them, people read my blog. Like people from Poland, Japan and O Brasil.
Thanks guyz.

Also, my girl Danielle has got things to say about culture, music and art--and she says them well.

Quentinho na cama

Favorite part about my room? The floor heaters. Seriously. My room instantly gets roasty toasty the moment I turn them on, making me instantly joyous.
If you know me at all, you know how cold I get in the winter. Chronically cold. I pretty much count on my feet being frozen from October to April. My friendy friend Sara would always make fun of me when I would take a hot water bottle to bed with me to warm my poor toes. I picked that habit up in southern Brasil where I have never experienced a more biting cold. I have now graduated to a heating pad which is infinitely less risky to take to bed with you then a water bottle.

Ti amo amor, ti amo

I am training for another 1/2 marathon-the Canyonlands marathon in Moab,UT on St. Patty's Day next month. Training for a marathon in the wintertime has got to be the most uncomfortable thing ever. On the one hand, I've never been this active in the winter. On the other, it is so freaking cold, and I hate running in the cold.

Saudades pra voltar ào Brasil

In an attempt to blog more often, I have invested in a blogger app on my phone. Stay tuned for a higher frequency of leetle blog posties.

I have gotten two email/messages from former companions from the missão and it makes me miss miss miss O Brasil dreadfully.

Enjoi this picture of me in a large floppy hat as well as a hybrid silk plant: