New Year

It's 2015 now. Who would've thought. My sense is that sometime after the mid-90's I've been surprised every time the year changes. 2000 already? Wow, 2008, really?!

And now it's 2015.

It's time for a new blog. It's a new year and I'm feeling introspective. 2014 was a great year. Everything changed. Again. I've got a new job, maybe my last job. I've moved to a new state, maybe my last state. For years I've been dreaming of settling somewhere, and now that I'm starting to hunker down... wow. It's amazing. Everything I've dreamed. So far so good, and all that.

So what was so great about this past year?

One year ago, I was in Tennessee with my family, celebrating the holidays and a call in to interview in Maine at this one place that, I don't know, just felt right. And we all laughed -- Hawaii to Maine. How ridiculous would that move be?

I went back home to Hawaii and I taught two classes at KCC in the spring. I started a new research project, disaster and climate change in American Samoa and Maui, funded by the American Psychological Foundation Visionary Grant. I flew to a few states to interview. Got caught in a few snow storms. Walked on a frozen lake.

I took trip after trip after trip. Maui twice. American Samoa twice. Vermont. Maine.

In the summer, some months passed where I would celebrate getting to stay put for two whole weeks at a time. That is the price of an amazing year of travel and adventure when you're afraid of flying. But man, it was worth it.

I went to London with my sister. I was so wound up. I wanted to just go and go and go. I slowed down eventually. We went to Dover and walked the cliffs. Saw my high school friend Andy and his wife and their kids. Saw my college friend Elizabeth and her husband and their kids. Went to museums and cemeteries and shops and sights. I stared into the abyss of Rothko's mind until it swallowed me whole. I drank beer and ate cheese and rode trains and complained about the noise and the people.

And then we moved to Maine. The move itself was stupid and stressful and thank god for Michael for getting me through. Because pretty much ever since then it's been wonderful. I love my new job. I love this place. I love the people. I love the house we're renting. I love the forest (90% of the state!). I love the quiet. It's so quiet.

I'm starting to slow down. I realize the irony-slash-lie of me saying this. Since I've moved here I've written a book and an article and two booklets and done qualitative and statistical analyses for two research projects and learned canning and taught classes and written three grants and led workshops and more workshops and I basically work until I crash. The irony/lie is that I never stop. I'm not good at that. But the truth/sincerity is that I feel slower, calmer, quieter. I do yard work and I meditate and I've learned how to take snow days and hunker down when you can't leave the house. And the truth/sincerity is that I feel an endless well of gratitude for this beautiful, peaceful life.

Maybe this will last forever. Maybe it could. Maybe it will keep getting better.