I often think about place – derived from the Latin word platea meaning "open space" – as I wander to my edge in this world's travel. I believe in authenticity over identity. While I value origin, I move forward in the delight of exploration. In 2012, I moved North. I found home in the mountains of Vermont. I never thought I would leave Maryland after my parents often speaking of finding love in Michigan, displacing my sense of the word. Are we there yet? I listened to them talk and would map out the common themes: the yard, where to go for the holidays, and furthermore the logistics of money. I moved anyway. When I entered a culture of endlessly colorful landscapes, I remember questioning artists who drew nature, yet here I am falling in love with the wilt of a flower stem and trying to meet it at its movement evermore.
In 2014, I pursued a deeper path of discovery. I visited friends across the U.S. before flying to Asia. For many months, I felt culture shock and uninhibited happiness and fear and free fall and deserving food and myself with another born and raised in New England. Out of money, I collapsed back into my past. We're almost there. To Michigan, to New Hampshire, to Vermont, to New Hampshire and seeing Vermont as I am again before spending the summer of 2015 on an island off of Washington's most coast. In the end I turned the northwest tip of the country in a kayak only to be met by the breath of a humpback whale – megaptera novaengliae meaning "big winged New Englander" – redefining my experience of existence.
In many years of flight, I had never honestly road-tripped so I spent 5000+ miles or kilometers on the road in one month in two different boats (a slick car named Starship Enterprise, the other, my Gertie the truck). The first two weeks of October 2015 learned me and a good friend a tent and a campfire through British Columbia and Alberta provinces for the sight of any national park that would keep us. The second half of the month folded into the past as I revisited Yosemite, the Redwoods, and the Sequoias alike with my partner and his great love. These words here, other than lantern journal scribble, may be the only place for them now and that is okay. A moment does not exist where I would deny gratitude for beauty and kindness. At any point I find hope in the embodiment of what is enough.
My search continues while finding a green house in Portland, Oregon with friends. Five boys from New Hampshire, and one gal take on shelter.
All the while – I am studying my MFA in Poetry at Vermont College of Fine Arts, and professionally speaking I seek a career in making art accessible to all. I envision myself to have some fancy title as a multidisciplinary curator of sorts while curling up in my future studio with my future cat and a future hot cup of tea maybe talking out loud the parts I find interesting in a story with a friend. I am an editor formally. Publication is only a goal. And if I don't end up teaching, I'll start a school.