the hardest thing on earth

“The hardest thing on earth is choosing what matters”

The most beautiful truth — choosing what matters. We all had dreams when we were young, and even still nothing has or may ever become of them. I wanted to be a runner and i’m not talking for want of a gold medal or world renown fame in the olympics. No. I’m talking Forest Gump running. My little heart wanted to race as far as my even smaller legs could take me. It didn’t matter where or how: Its just what i wanted. To this day i’m a great runner but due to snapping ankles that dream can never truly “be.” You know what? Thats just fine. That doesn’t mean the dream is gone but Its life. Now I have created a life that has taken me to places i thought i’d never reach, never could dream of or ever dared to think i’d go to. I don’t aspire for a certain career or job. I try to spend every day doing something i enjoy. I work jobs that i dreamed of having as a child. Sometimes i pick up horse shit — its worth every minute as i get lots of cuddles, become more understanding and have horse snot all over me on a constant basis ( what a bonus!) Other days i write and write and write and write etc.. Sometimes i act, other times i’m a photographer. I’m very lucky and everyday i realise that a little more. I’m thankful for what i have and what i do.

This last year or so i’ve really starting pursuing things i want to do in life. A dream is to have a ranch of my own with a couple of horses, maybe sheep or goats and some form of feathery egg laying bird (no rooster because they don’t usually like me). If i’m feeling really crazy, i am, i’d love to have a big old honorary long horn. I’d love to have acres of land that i can ride out on, camp and live free. I’ve been working on farms as much as i can, getting to be around horses again and working on the ground work/care/riding . Meeting some lovely people with the same interest who i can learn from  + who are willing to show me the ropes. I used to be around horses a lot when i was younger but then i got busy with school, theatre, writing and then travelling — so i had to build that part of my life again. Its hard because i have to start over, but i’m glad im clever enough to want to learn it again.

Ultimately I choose life; and living it to the absolute full. I may never be the rider i want to be but i’ll happily spend my days trying to get there, putting in the hours, the money when i have it; at the end i can smile and say i gave it my damnedest. Finding the small things to be happy about in life is easy when you life for yourself. When you try to focus one what truly brings light into your life–thats when you’re rich.  I don’t live to work. I don’t live for social media. This blog is about as active as i get when it comes to computers. If you’ve seen my facebook/instagram you’ll see that its shocking how bad i am at keeping up with it. Truth be told i’d rather be outside. You know. Where we all should be.
I’ll keep drifting from place to place, from job to job and leaving a trace of highly entertained onlookers.

And that is the end of my semi margarita infused blog post.

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Shorty, a very large sweet boy, snoozing in the snow and loving the afternoon sun.
Mac and his icy whiskers
Ruby and i.
Na na na na naa!
My new BearPaw snow boots — incredible! (No, i havent been paid to say that, they really are good !)

“The earth is mostly just a boneyard. But pretty in the sunlight.”

i’ve got a jar of lone star

Everyone has different ways of coping with homesickness. Some people write about it, others embrace it.. but me? I carry a jar of dirt with me, yup — thats right. Texas dirt. Texas is the first place away from Denmark that i’ve ever felt at home or like i could stay there for the rest of my life; as a drifter thats saying a whole lot. I haven’t opened the jar since we left almost three years ago, the ground inside is from our little piece of land on the outskirts of town, the leaf was the first that fell and the empty bullet well thats another story.  My little jar of Lone Star sits by my bedside and comforts me when the days get too long. I think back to that brick house where the coyotes used to gather like fruit flies, where i ended up showering with a lizard and an angry scorpion consistently hid in my boots.

When night fell over Gazebo street our backyard became a fair ground of playing stars dancing for the limelight. We’d stand and watch them roll, shoot and shine for hours whilst the mosquitoes bled us dry. It was worth every minute.
I remember one evening when summer was turning to autumn. We slept with the window open. Around 4.30am i heard a high pitched eerie howl as beautiful as ever it could be. Outside my window was a lone coyote, right outside. I didn’t dare look but i could smell her breathing and i sure as hell could hear her singing. The wind was almost cool and soothing — rare for South East Texas.  In the distance a whole band of coy dogs began to yip and yawh, so my friend of the night disappeared into the brush. I will never forget that early morning, and though i was too freaked out to look through the dark for her, it is one of my fondest memories. I have a soft spot for coyotes and wolves, for farmers and ranchers they’re little devils, but to me they’re like me. Drifting from place to place and part of the pack.
My pack amounts to three, and thats how it should be.
So there on my bedside table is my comforting jar of dirt that wakes a memory or two.

a lighthouse and the mountain

Four days from Halloween, and the weather is perfect. The sky is blue and clear, the wind is brisk and there is a longed-for chil — finally. I might regret that last statement when theres 10 feet of snow outside and i can’t feel my feet, but for now im happy that summer is finally at an end. Its been dragging this year and i’m desperate to start wearing comfy snow boots and some wooly coats. Also — christmas?!

Today we spent our Saturday exploring Mount Agamenticus with Basil. We were hoping to see some form of wildlife but that idea was busted when a huge family decided to give their 30 kids a set of whistles as party favours. Fantastic parenting and consideration for others. Everyone on the mountain that wasn’t invited to said party had a pretty lousy experience. The noise decimated all hope of wildlife, and in general ruined the ambience of such a pretty place.

mountain
Thankfully i still managed to get a couple of shots without the millions of screaming children in the trees and on the cliff sides. Its not the tallest mountain — and it doesn’t have to be (its elevation is only 692′) . Its a beautiful reservation and habitat for wildlife — something our world is beginning to lack i might add. I worked on a few boats my first few years living in New England, where i’d seen the small mountain on the horizon when we were returning to Portsmouth. They say its a “noted landmark for sailors,” which it was to me before it ever became known as “Mount Agamenticus.” So it was special to finally get up there and see it from the other side. Mountain to the sea and vice versa.

lighthouse and the mountain

After we were good and tuckered out from the mountain we took a leisurely drive and ended up at the Nubble Lighthouse. I personally would love to live like this — being the antisocial hermit that i am. Its a beautiful little island separated from the mainland by a watery grave. Your own little world just outside of everyone else’s — i mean what could be more perfect?
Signalling ships + piece and quiet = one happy camper.

Bet its cold as balls in the winter mind you.

the lighthouse

where i lay my hat

It’s Friday the 20th of October and it 23:29 in the evening, we just finished watching ” The Last Of The Mohicans” with method actor Daniel Day Lewis — and sometimes something as simple as a beautiful soundtrack can make you ponder and leave you wandering in the forest of your mind for answers you know don’t rustle in those trees.

Home is a hard word — or rather a complicated one. I battle with it often trying to determine where i feel “at home.” If i’ve ever felt at home. Every place has it’s own drawbacks — and if theres anything i’m good at its finding the drawbacks. I’ve lived a long life for a 25 year old; i’ve lived many lives already and i’m far from done. Any expat will tell you that travelling over a long period of time will change you in ways you can’t comprehend. I’m not talking vacation or holidays — i’m talking living a life of travel, of moving from place to place and becoming a part of a new life. A self-sort gift as well as a curse as hard as they come. I’ve never much cared what happened to my life or where it ended up — i usually go with the flow of living and see where the wind blows me, still do. Sure there are things i want to do and accomplish, which i work on little by little every day but theres no place out there that i feel “yeah — thats home and thats where i’ll return to when i’m done dreaming.”

For me home is a person, a breath of air, a stroll to a mountain, a beautiful horizon resting on the sea in any place; a horse nickering in the early morning — thats home. Its the small joys that trigger memories of my family when i’m 4000 miles away in the back end state of nowhere.
So i lay my hat wherever i sleep at night — but never at home, because he already has hat.

where i lay my hat

agiocochook peak

Its the windiest place on earth, so they say. Agiocochook peak, better known as Mount Washington — was my first mountain. I mean i’ve seen them before from a plane, an airport or just passing through high country on a road trip, but i’d never been to the top. I’ve always found solace in being out at sea under full sail, or riding in the back country of Texas on horse back — but there is a peace in the mountains. A peace that spreads from peak to peak. You’re above the world, away from your everyday hustle and bustle — a life drowning in technology, must do’s and boundaries . Mountains are raw and dangerous, but remind us that the world; though it seems tame below, is far from a kept housewife on easy street.

mount washington state park

asd

mount washington
In some areas it looked so desolate and forgotten — like the surface of mars or earth after an apocalyptic catastrophe. I’ve always admired mountains; the peaks and bumps always reminded me of sleeping trolls that were hiding till nightfall. As a kid in Denmark — i grew up wary of the woods because of the trolls. I might be the only one, but i was always safer rather than sorry. And thus far — i haven’t been chewed in half by an angry troll.