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Photo by Jenn Seva

December 31, 2017

December 30, 2017
Snapshots...

It’s August 28, in the evening, and Elsa and I are seated at a long table with 20+ people. We are dining on an outdoor platform that looks out to

the Costa Rican jungle. It’s just after dusk and while previous evenings had given us a dramatic sunset, on this evening it was cloudy with dark threatening rain clouds. The dining table is tucked under a long sweeping

roof that opens out to trees and Pacific Ocean beyond. About 30 minutes into the meal, Elsa elbowed me and whispered in my ear, “listen.” It was loud around the table, people were telling their stories in 4 different languages, wine was being served, beer consumed, and the plates and silverware clinked with enthusiastic gastronomic exuberance.

Dramatically, swelling in a crescendo, the rain had begun to pour down in torrents, splashing on the uncovered part of our deck as the enormous drops sought the soil. The sound, magnified by the tin roof, produced a deafening roar that caused the conversation to pause. We were dripping with sweat from the humid jungle air and the spicy meal…and we sat back and realized we were surrounded by people from around the world who had come together to experience one of the most amazing places on the planet. We were living the life.

There is no way to fully capture a moment. You can take a picture. You can write a story, but you can’t truly remember a moment in its entirety. I know because I have tried so many times this year to try to really soak it in and remember… This is what joy feels like. This is what love feels like. This is what wonder feels like. This is what beauty feels like. The Costa Ricans have a word for this feeling: Pura Vida.

The moment passes and then you are on to the next.

One of our favorite songs (by Carbon Leaf) says, “Live a life less ordinary. Live a life extraordinary with me. Live a live less sedentary, live a live evolutionary with me.” And we did that this year.

It’s January 21st and Elsa and are up before dawn standing on the deck of a boat prepared to take us out into Maalaea Bay in Maui to fulfill one of her bucket list dreams of seeing the whales come to breed and raise their calves. The boat sets out just as the light is coming up. The water is flat and we see movement on the water far out in front of us. As the boat pulls closer we realize that we are seeing a female humpback whale with her

young calf slapping her pectoral fin. The boat slows and we can hear the exhale of the calf as it surfaces alongside its mother. Snap. Moment. How do you remember that feeling? I touch Elsa’s shoulder and she is riveted. There’s no way to get a good picture, its still too dark… but that feeling. It’s amazing.

It’s July 7th and we are standing on the Jirásek Bridge looking back toward the St Charles Bridge over the Vltava River in Prague. In the river are hundreds of swimmers on the first leg of a triathlon. We are walking

with our friends Donella and Andres to a small café that that has prepared a picnic for us to enjoy on Střelecký Island. We marvel at the sheer

number of people swimming in frantic strokes against the current as they complete the circuit around the island and then grab their bicycles for the second leg. Everywhere we look, the architecture is enchanting, but in that moment, we are part of the city’s energy. It’s mesmerizing.

It’s June 18th and there is a crew of very fit men and women moving wheelbarrows of asphalt to repair the section of driveway that will

complete our year-long walled-terrace project...they are finishing the one part we couldn’t do ourselves and when it’s finally all done…oh the satisfaction. It looks so good!

It’s December 4th, Elsa’s birthday. I get up and make her coffee which I bring to her in bed. Then I start making cinnamon rolls, but before I do, I put Billy Joel’s New York State of Mind on the stereo. This is the

beginning of her birthday gift, a surprise trip to New York City just before Christmas. She knew some kind of trip was coming so I hear a yell from the bedroom. “That’s it. That’s it. We are going to New York! We are going to New York!” I can’t contain my gigantic grin as I tell her, “Yes, Happy Birthday, we are going to New York for Christmas.” She gives me a big hug. I try to capture the moment in my mind.

It’s August 21 and we have been camped out for a day to watch the 2 ½ minute total solar eclipse that passed through Oregon. Our friend Mindy

Chaffin kindly invited us to drive an hour south of our house so we could see the total eclipse at her mother’s farm in Dallas, OR. We brought along our friends Robin and Paul and their twins Oliver and Zala to experience the totality. I was expecting it to be cool, but when the sun finally slipped

behind the moon and the field went dark, I was truly in awe. The sun’s aura glowed around the edges of the moon, but the land was dark. The temperature dropped. The birds went quiet. I tried to hang on to that feeling. I tried to take a picture and then suddenly it was over. The sun re-emerged. It took us five hours to get home with all the other eclipse seekers, but for that 2 ½ minutes it was completely worth it.

It’s December 23th and Elsa and I are holding hands on the highline trail in New York City. Earlier in the day we had gone through the 9-11

memorial which moved us to tears and then we walked to see the Arch at Washington Park Square and then the Whitney Museum. It was raining a bit, but as we held hands and walked along the beautifully designed walkway, admiring glimpses of the Empire State Building and the Chrysler building, I was so thrilled to be alive and savoring the vibrancy of New York.

It’s May 23rd, three days after Elsa and I had both left our jobs. We are up at her parent’s cabin near Mt Rainier walking on an unused roadway that parallels the White River. We’ve walked this roadway hundreds of times and it has a familiar feel as cuts through the hemlock forest and across the meandering streams that feed the river. Suddenly, as we look ahead down the trail, a brown bear crosses our path about 50 yards in front of us. He pauses a moment when he sees us and then turns and runs into a side trail disappearing into the woods at much faster rate than I would have expected. Not five seconds later, an Elk follows the bear out of the woods and down the same trail. It was almost as if the Elk was chasing the bear. Elsa and I look at each other, startled at seeing a bear so close to the cabin, and then we keep walking. Another amazing moment.

And this happened over and over during the year. Out to dinner with our friends Kate and Gerald. A family gathering with all my Montana cousins. Waiting for U2 or Billy Joel to come on stage. Standing on the observatory

deck at the Empire State Building. Jumping in the water in Costa Rica and hearing the whales sing. Witnessing the opening of our friends’ Art Studio, the Multiverse. Hiking with Aunt Bernice in the Arizona Desert. Sitting for

the first time on our new paved patio that we built ourselves. Sitting around our table toasting our thanks at Thanksgiving with friends and family. Sipping whiskey at the Multnomah Whiskey Library with my college buddies. Looking out from the windows at Timberline Lodge to

see the sun light up Mt Jefferson in the south. Playing dominos with my

sister’s daughter. Sitting by the fire talking to our friend who is making a

movie out of the book, Mink River. Sitting on the couch at the cabin with our 14-year old terrier snuggled up beside me while I write this summary of the year.

These moments are magical and fleeting, impossible to absorb no matter how much I try.
And next year? It’s starting out with lovely potential.

We are ringing in the new year at a party with Mike and Jenn. Then we headed to Port Townsend to meet some of the community leaders who are building up the arts and cultural institutions that make up their town. I travel to Spokane to stay with my Dad while my mom travels to Guatemala on a trip to help indigenous communities find markets for their crafts as a way to improve conditions for women in their village. My friend Bob has invited us to visit him in Pátzcuaro, Mexico in February. This may be the year that Elsa gets me to Sedona. And who knows what will happen after March?

Yes, there’s work. I’m building websites and databases for artists, writers, and non-profits. Elsa is applying for jobs that let her stretch her MBA muscles. But no matter what happens in 2018, 2017 will be remembered as the year when we prioritized life over work, when we said yes to adventure and possibility, when we moved passed the fear of leaving what was comfortable and familiar, opting instead for the uncertainty of new experiences, some of which led to magical moments and lovely memories. This has been year less ordinary, a year extraordinary with each other.

It’s December 24 and Elsa and I are eating breakfast in a diner on West 67th Street in New York before we catch our taxi ride to the airport. We are the only customers. Elsa finishes her eggs. I finish my toast. The cook in the back cracks a joke in in Spanish, the waiter laughs. We pay in cash, leaving a 30% tip. The waiter gives us a big smile and wishes us a Merry Christmas as we slip outside to the brisk December air. We head home to Portland.

It just keeps getting better and better.