finding a rythmn

Travelling offers the rare opportunity to be pushed outside of one's comfort zone, stretched beyond the familiar routine of one's day at home, and  thrown away from the familiarities that gives us shelter. Though homey and safe, the routine we form at home sometimes stunts us, and we forget how to be adventurous.

Travelling gives us the opportunities to be adventurous, to take advantage of a moment that might seem uncomfortable, strange, or scary, and turn it into a moment where we gain power over those fears, feelings of anxiety or homesickness, and turn it into something freeing and expanding.

Travelling offers us many different experiences and senses that we cant get at home. We are confronted with different struggles and emotions, and range over a broad spectrum day to day. But being able to take those uncomfortable moments, and turn them into an challenge to over come; a learning lesson in itself to grow and let go of those unnecessary fears and restraints. It gives us those few and brief moments to live very richly. And by that, I mean we live beyond our inner and repetitive dialogue. We get outside of ourselves, to meet new and different people, to see new places, to taste new things and overcome new challenges with grace. Not to say we don't have these same opportunities at home, but sometimes without a push or shove to change, it is easy to stay in one place and not notice the endless beautiful and thrilling things before us.

For me, this change is coming slowly, like a young spring flower, my bud is still closed, ready to open but still unsure of when or how. Leaving home my head was in a blur and my heart was scared of the unknown. I knew if I wanted my head and heart to be in sync and get to a clearer place, I needed to grow. I needed a change. But I had not regained my 'adventerous legs' back quite yet, and some quiet time surrounded by loving family, good food, and the beautiful country of Ireland would allow me to take a breath and reground myself. Being with family has been good, but I also enjoy being solitary person at times. Happy to be alone for hours, even days sometimes; I know that finding alone time each day is vital to my mental happiness and clarity.

So, everyday I take time out to be alone. Usually it is in the morning, when things are slow. I put on my running shoes, grab my waterproof shell, and set off down the muddy dirt drive way and onto the road that bends around the endless coastline.  My legs don't feel as strong as they did back home when I was running and swimming everyday. But an hour run in the mornings and sometimes again in the afternoons, brings back the joy to feeling my muscles move my body forward.

I never thought I could enjoy it before, but running in the rain is something I see myself falling in love with. Breathing in the seaside air, drying sea weed, the dankness of the fields and smell of wet wool from the sheep cover the inside of my nostrils. The cold rain runs down my bare legs and clings to my hair and face. Its very different from running the trails or beach's of Santa Barbara, and my senses are introduced to new things, but my legs work the same, and my lungs still burn the same, my cheeks are still become flushed, and I still find myself smiling for how quick the hour on the pavement goes by.

Getting back to my Morehart roots

"Where did they come up with the name Dingle?" asks Manuel.
"Oh, its probably short for dingle-berry" replies Mike  and they both break out in shared laughter.

This type of silly banter is quite common between my two uncles.
Manuel and Mike both stand a little over 6 feet each, with strong broad shoulders and each with a slight twinkle in their eyes. Mike is the older brother, a little crusty looking from years at sea, deep soulful eyes, with a wild head of grey hair and a good amount on his chest poking up through his collar. Manuel only has a few greys, always in his jeans and flip flops, and has a rosy and tan face. You can tell they are brothers. They share the same nose, the same tan skin, same big hands and strong build. A build of men that have trekked and sailed and seen far corners of the world. They have worked using their hands, have spent many long hours in storms out at sea and coaxed their way out of trouble or caused some themselves. And they stand next to each other in the doorway of our hotel, looking out into the little street where its pouring down rain. They stand tall, but obviously relaxed. You can tell they are waiting for someone to walk by to talk too, to ask a question or just talk about the weather. They are comfortable standing there chatting. No need to rush anywhere, just enjoying the company of each other that they seldom get to share now-a-days. 

Mike lives in Argentina with his family and Manuel lives in part time in Ireland and southern California with his family. They share much more than just looks and humor as brothers. Though they lead very different lives, they both inherited the thirst to have incredible adventures.
Its actually really ridiculous the amount they can make you laugh when you spend just a few minutes around them. And I will be with them straight for 2 weeks. So I am thrilled to spend this valuable time with them and their families and getting a good dose of laughter and little adventures in between.


But they joking is well fed with a richly lived life. They both have stories of great adventures themselves. Manuel at the ripe age of 18 left home with a buddy and hitch  hiked around the world. Yeah, they made their way across the US by illegally jumping on a few trains to get to the east coast, and got a crew job on a ship over to Africa. where he got arrested and thrown into prison...and my grandparents didn't hear of him for 9 months. they thought he was dead. he was anything but. he was young and brave, completely broke, having his first grand adventure...of the world.

Mike has many great stories as well. And he has done his fair share of sailing and living around the globe. I call him my pirate uncle, for stories that cannot be disclosed publicly in this blog. He has called many places home including New Zealand and Tahiti, California and Colorado, and now he lives on his ranch with his family in Argentina. Even today we found ourselves reminiscing about stories when my family and I sailed with him to Easter Island. 12 days at sea, him and my dad got us there safe and sound, thru high seas and storms...then he turned around and sailed back. and then somewhere else again.
He is my pirate uncle.

Okay, I'm guna back track a little what has happened in the past few days, so bear with me.

So from Pembrokshire in Southern Wales, I took the 3 hour ferrier from Fishguard harbor over to Rosslare. From there I took the 6 hr bus ride to Cork, found a hotel room for the night, and left in the morning for another couple hour ride to Tralee to meet up with Mike and Manuels families. I was definitely happy to see some familiar faces, but we had another 2 hour drive to get to Dingle. But unlike the bus rides, the sky was a little clearer and the landscape was beautiful, looking out onto the sea and rolling green pastures.

We arrived happy to be in Dingle, our sister city to Santa Barbara.  It was actually my grandfather, James Bottoms, who started the idea of getting Dingle and Santa Barbara to be connected from being inspired by a trip he took years ago. In 1999 James took a side trip to Dingle when he was travelling Ireland. He had heard of Fungie, the dolphin that has lived in the bay since 1983. He took a boat ride out into the bay, and put on a wetty, and jumped right in, taking a very special swim with Fungie. My grandpa was so moved by this experience, he decided that doing a sculpture of Fungie to always be remembered by all who visit Dingle was a project he wanted to make happen. And so, a year later in 2000 the sculpture of Fungie was arrived and displayed in the Dingle Bay and the connection of the two sister cities was complete.
Thanks grandpa!

After two days of exploring the cute little harbor town of Dingle, we drove to Killarney for a night on the way back to Skull. Yesterday when arriving we explored the last standing oldest castle in Ireland, The Ross Castle, or stone tower as it was called back when it was made in 1400. It was sacked a couple times by Vikings and now is on display for tourists to walk around eating ice cream and take pictures next to the old stone walls. We decided that a boat ride around two of the giant lakes in front of the castle was a better option for us. The views were spectacular, and we got to see secluded ancient ruins of churches on islands where monks lived in 1500 and 1600. Turns out they also got sacked by Vikings too.

This morning in Killarney, my cousin Marco and I, went for a horse back ride throughout the national park along side the lakes. We rode a couple of sweet Clydesdales, or what they call an Irish draft horse and went for cantering through the pastures. Lots of fun riding a big horse like that! Next we head back to Manuel and Lisas house near Skull.

Pictures will come when I find a computer that I can transfer them onto.

A Week with the Knights of Malta

A month after graduating from UCSB I packed my bag-- and then bought a plane ticket and got on a plane headed for Wales, with a quick stop on the way in NYC to see an old friend. In between that chaotic rush of trying to get organized for this trip, enjoying my last summer days in Santa Barbara, an email I sent back in May finally followed up with a reply: they wanted me as a volunteer.

So here I am. Wednesday night sitting in a little internet cafe surrounded by new friends, out in the middle of the Pembrokeshire country side, with the rain softly drifting down outside.

A week ago I left Santa Barbara for a trip, pitifully half-assed and weakly planned, awkwardly jumped into, leaving me feeling right before getting on the plane, hesitant and worried, with the ache of regret shivering down my spine.

What I didn't expect was how quickly I was able to separate the travel anxieties and worries from hindering me to live in the present. Maybe my past (not so comforable) trips to Panama, Honduras and Bolivia have gotten me used to it. But also thanks to a good friend who I always have a blast with, my worries quickly floated away, and I jumped into what was actually going on. The two days in NYC left me feeling like I had partied for a week straight, accompianied by rich food, strong drinks and lots of laughter to keep my head, liver and tummy sore for days. But it was worth it, and I got to make up my sleep on the flight over to London. Thank you Caitlin for wrapping me up in your NYC life...until next time!


The past four days I have been working as a volunteer at the 27th Order of Malta International Holiday Camp in Great Britain. There are over four hundred campers and volunteers this summer, coming from 20 countries. Only 5 of us make up the American team, where all the other groups are here in the 20s. The American team is the smallest, as it has been for the past few years. But that doesnt affect how we are quickly engulfed by the veteran campers who radiate energy and happiness that shows how much they simply enjoy being here. For those of you that don't know, the Order of Malta is...wikipedia it. Just kidding...here's a little info on it:

Since the 11th century, the Order of Malta has cared for the sick, the needy and refugees, with total impartiality. The Order has sovereign status which puts it in a unique position to carry out humanitarian work effectively. It has permanent observer status at the UN and other international forums and diplomatic relations with over 100 countries, and can respond immediately to disasters worldwide. Currently the Order of Malta has 13,000 members and 59 organisations worldwide.


Its hard to explain with words what experiencing these past 4 days has been like. Its been a wave of new emotional, mindful, and spiritual experiences constantly; I am exhuasted. I've had to fight back the tears more times that I can count...everyone here leaves me in awe of their kindness and happiness to be alive no matter their circumstance. And the other helpers, who are always watching over their guests that are severely physically disabled and handicapped, leave me in awe just the same. It literally has shocked me. I dont know how else to describe it.

Something is moving me, and its not exactly the common Christian principles among us all, but just being around everyone here and the joy they share with all those they meet or pass by showing their big smiles.

Every moment I am around everyone I feel it changing my perspective of how I see people's real capability to live. And to live fully.

Here is a quick video of what one of our days at camp have been like.

IHC2010 Great Britain Tuesday from ihc2010 on Vimeo.