my journey to you
Here I am. Beginning a terrifying new adventure/journey/way of being. Why? Simply because it’s time. That’s not the whole truth since my writing practice is like an overdue library book awaiting its entire purpose—to be shared. The reason lies somewhere between liminal spaces. I think. As a way of accountability both to myself and the promises I’ve made. And here I am, finally, making good on those promises to you and to the Universe.
Meraki [may-rah-kee]
Meraki, a Greek word, defines how you perform what you do—with love and pure soul. It is leaving a little piece of yourself in your creative work. This space will contain essences of my meraki.
At the heart of my hopes and dreams, sits the idea that my unique fairy dust will sprinkle someone out there with a sense of solace. A space to find respite. To be felt deeply. We are all interconnected and what I think I do best is build community by holding space for you to be at ease with who you are, how you are. So, let’s begin here.
“One day you will tell your story of how you overcame what you went through and it will become someone else’s survival guide.”
My other purpose in creating this specific blog is to offer my friends (that now includes you if it didn’t already) the stories they’ve been asking for along with a chance to build a writing practice. Something I’ve been attempting for long enough to be embarrassing. If this keeps me accountable then I’ll finally be successful! Cheers to deadlines. [Insert awkward laughter here and possibly a grumble too.] Thank you to my biggest fans for even wanting to read stories of my wanderings; I’m deeply grateful for you. I realize how self-deprecating it appears to mention that my wanderings feel unworthy of write-ups. It’s because I know so many people with more grand and glorious summits/races/excursions/adventures though. Still, here’s my chance to share—for me and for you.
You, who have considered me inspirational and worthy of divulging the details of my frolics through forests and across mountain tops in contrast to my life admin struggles or grad school blues. Thank you for “being inspired” and encouraging me to tell my tales. All of this is for you. Here’s your chance to Stay Wild with me. ;-)
With love, Sprite
Sprite on the trails
For those who don’t know me, welcome! Who am I and what am I doing? I dunno. Now that I’m 40 I just strap a bra on every morn and hope for the best. Well, I think you caught the gist of why—accountability and creating a community and all the feel goods and such—at least. Let’s get to know each other a bit…
I am LK, Trail Name: Sprite. I’ll go by that here. Not to be confused with going by LK in my daily life and on my website, which offers services such as building adventure itineraries and coaching and hopefully very soon women’s retreats. I received the moniker fairly as I am a 5’2” retired ballerina and happen to be a Pisces flitting dreamily through life. Well, maybe that’s not fair. I am an extremely fortunate human after all. I don’t enjoy speaking/writing about myself even though I feel that every conversation inevitably slides back to only being about me. Gahh, how I hope that isn’t true and is only due to our natural instinct to analyze and criticize each of our experiences after they occur. Anyway, I’ll let all of my true self shine through each blog post instead of offering a list of highlights today.
Most notable to mention at bare minimum is the surprising fact that I am indeed still in existence. I never expected to make it to 40 so I didn’t plan for it. I know. I know! That comes across as absolutely ridiculous. But unfortunately it’s accurate. I am shocked and somehow also delighted to have survived thus far since I thought I would become a member of the 27 Club. I mean, I even still have ALL my teeth after countless tumbles down mountains afterwards popping up with hands cupped around my mouth shouting, “I’m still aliiiiive."
Yet, here I am. Aimless.
Completion of my “glory” days of dancing ballet professionally; check. The pandemic dashing all plans of what I went to graduate school for (secure dance professorship); check. Maybe I didn’t want it intensely enough? I suppose I wanted wild spaces more. Last summer, the Grand & Glorious Summer of 2023, three of my friends and colleagues became artistic directors for well-known mid-sized ballet companies. In quick succession. Each took the breath out of me but not quite like the third one did. After reading the Facebook post and offering congratulations, I walked out in the warm summer morning and hopped in my RAV4 to drive to work. I knew the job was rapidly skipping into closure while I also lacked leads for new opportunities and I was beginning to focus on feeling lowly about prospects as I rolled forward crunching gravel under tires. Before pulling out, I looked left as a studious driver does, and gasped.
The Tetons. In all their glory and drama. Filling my view and my heart. My thoughts swirled with, “This is why you are not the artistic director you wanted to be. Because you choose to live in wild spaces. Still happy with that decision?”
So what’s next? Here I am trying to figure out what to do with myself. Lacking a plan. That in itself is a new experience. I’ve always known what to do, where to go, how to be. So how at this age am I clueless and weightless? Is it because I didn’t have that experience in my barely adulthood like everyone else? The “what now?” questions and concerns. Sigh.
Aren’t you glad you strapped in for this journey?! How does it feel that I’m already rambling about my existential crisis? I am heritage of a wramblin’ wreck from Georgia Tech after all. Maybe that’s how this all started? Hmmm. Much of what I write may be just that—figuring it the *%&+ out. Oversharing in hopes that you have the answers. Err, I mean to discover this journey actually holds answers for me. It probably doesn’t. Meh, ok. That’s probably true. I’m ok with that. That is where I am at mentally today. Here’s where I’m at physically (metaphysically?):
“In the fields, she stopped and took a deep breath of the flower-scented air. It was dearer to her than her kin, better than a lover, wiser than a book. And for a moment she rediscovered the purpose of her life. She was here on earth to absorb its wild enchantment.”
Every time I frolic through wildfleurs, I feel alive and at peace with myself. Therefore, Pasternak’s quote deems peak wildflower season as the most appropriate timing for me to launch this mission. For maybe I am like the plants that need 39-40 years before blooming. Here I am finally realizing my true purpose and aligning my goals. Which leads me to addressing how I owe the Universe. You were wondering what kind of deal I made, weren’t you? Yeah, I was procrastinating a bit.
For the full story, please read my upcoming blog post titled My Year of Healing in the Tetons. Please enjoy the abridged version for now:
After graduating with an MFA in Ballet in the Spring of 2019, I followed the most logical path of moving back to WA state to live with my partner in all things life. He was too close to retirement to begin a new life elsewhere on my behalf. Unfortunately, WA state and I were already at odds. When I rolled out of there with screeching tires August of 2017 Salt Lake City bound, I vowed never to return to that cursed place. Ever. Apparently, I didn’t say never. [Eyeroll, side eye, smirk.]
Being the human I am, I decided to make the best of the situation thinking all things would work out for the best and it really wouldn’t be so bad. Dearest Peanut Gallery, I DO hear your laughter. *Clears throat. During my final semester and early into 2019 I reached out to a local community college in western Washington to begin the process of creating a dance course and sending it through each phase of bureaucratic red tape necessary. A year later, I reaped the benefit of that hard work by celebrating the approval and attending onboarding on March 4, 2020.
Shall I insert a laugh track here? The sad truth is how excited for a dance program those that hired me were. The richness it would have provided the community. What a sharp pain of a loss. Maybe the Universe knew if I began that program then I would feel forever stuck there. In a place that didn’t quite fit. Maybe? One can only hope.
Anyway, I don’t have to inform you how deeply the dance industry was decimated by the pandemic. Or maybe it is necessary to understand how dark those times were for artists. How we were expected to entertain everyone with our craft. For free. I have never felt so deeply disrespected and I became furious.
In addition, I floundered. Caught in a trap to apply for a “career position” ad nauseum while cobbling together five part time jobs to pay off student loans sans interest. A revolving door of the stages of grief took hold of me. Repeating repeating repeating. Mirroring the bridge loop I walked daily in the desolate town I lived in. Desolate due to everyone’s fear of stepping outside.
Meanwhile, I railed against the awful people and the awful situation and begged, pleaded, SCREAMED if only the Universe could get me out of this Hell I would do anyyyything. I. needed. out.
My partner in all things life, Trail Name: TAJ, kindly whispered one day, “Don’t even bother applying in this state anymore.” Pisceans are best at escape mechanisms. I bolted to the most iconic mountain range, of course. How lucky I am and oh how staggering the responsibility. My gratitude for the opportunity to flee runs deeper than any ocean here on Earth, more vast than the twinkling stars when looking up at the night sky, longer than the healing process of a brokenness we don’t deserve. Which is the start of my promise to the Universe…
…to tell my story.
“You’ve sat in your shadows
For quite long enough,
It’s time to wake up now,
And dust yourself off.
The world has been waiting
To see who you are,
The person that’s hiding
Behind all the scars.
You’re more than the person
They thought you could be,
Worthy, deserving,
Of love, life, and peace,
So rise from the darkness,
And step into the sun,
It’s time that they see you,
For all you’ve become.”
~ Christie L Starkweather
Credit: @clspoetry
In honor of Holly, who taught me how to Stay Wild:
“I don’t know where I’m going but I’m going there full tilt with a rapture that cannot be deterred.”
LK and Holly dog conquer Granite Mountain in the Central Cascades of Washington State.