a long way to newport

Sometimes I really wish I could read and stay engaged with a story like I used to. Anyway.

The imagery on the way to my roommate's house near the Oregon Coast was absolutely insane. Mind-boggling, breath-taking even. I will still never know why everything is just so vibrant in Oregon, but once I figure that out, I'll let you know. It's like God just decided to boost the color intensity in this one small little area. 

The amount of times I wanted to jump out of that car and make a beeline for the vast scenery was astronomical--but of course, like a sane person, I stayed in my seat and pressed my face as close to the window pane as I could. For a few seconds I thought we were in the desert, and then a green farmer's field like you would only see in those old Sun-Maid commercials (don't ask how I remember them). 

It was liminal almost, like heaven but not really. It made me feel so glad to be traveling. Out, and traveling, and far far away. The world is so vast and the Oregon sky was so incredible from my tiny spot on the highway. Tall trees like mountains, a small thin path. A sea-salt smell that makes your head ache. The sun just barely reachable from the horizon.
Driving, driving, to reach it. A hotel by the ocean. And then a windy cliff on the edge of the world, and a bridge that reminded me of New York. 

Anything that reminds me of the lights at night in New York will really get me going. I'd give anything to feel what it felt like years and years ago, when I was in the backseat at night driving through the city. Everything towers above you and everything is so high, and you're so small and so crushed in a small moving capsule, passing through it all. The lights are like Christmas times one-thousand and you feel so sleepy, so at peace, so safe there in the backseat of your car. Watching New York pass by like a whirlwind, keeping that whirlwind safe and hidden in your mind for later, to pull it back out when you need it most. My safe little whirlwind came back to me there, and all I could do was sit there in shock--and breathe, breathe, breathe, breathe. 

We were met by her pet corgi and a million legos once we reached the house, and as soon as we knew it we were eating Eggs Benedict and then back out on the highway the next morning. I love people who don't wait a
single second and like to catch up with the rush as fast as they can. The rush of exploration, of adventure. 

We made it to the Oregon Coast with the goal of talking to God, and on the car ride there we all had a short conversation about what our spiritual gifts were and what we're going to do with our lives. I was the only one who spoke in tongues and had no future plans at all. That was soon to change though. 

As per usual, once we stopped at the Pacific Ocean my jaw instantly dropped. It's so hard to describe the scenery, and even pictures weren't able to capture its beauty. It was like a tropical forest but on a beach. Of course, my head rang from something in the air but I ignored it to the best of my ability. The hills were so beautiful, and the three of us made our way up to the lighthouse to see the whole ocean from a higher perspective. I have to say, my favorite part about that one area was the person standing with their little canvas and little sun hat and paints. I promised myself that one day, that was definitely going to be me. Once I'm done doing what I'm supposed to do, and my purpose in life has finished, I'm going to return to the coast and paint what's in front of me. Who even knows if it'll look the same by then, but I'll do it.

Heading up the steps was when my head really started to mess with me, and I had trouble breathing for a good few minutes because allergy season was on a total roll in that area. Walking through the woods felt like we were in a Lord o
f the Rings scene--and I can totally geek out and say that because both of my friends agreed with me.

The edge of the cliff was absolutely humbling. Seeing how far the ocean stretched was mind-blowing, especially the fact that the ocean in front of us didn't stop until it reached Asia. It really emphasizes how small a person can be. It's all about us, but we're really all just tiny specs compared to the multitudes of life around us. God showed me the world from a high cliff, blowing the wind on me and calling to my heart, whispering to me through the waves. 

Watching the sea that stretched on forever, and all the people on the other side who might not even know about Him, and then the realization, and then the question, Should I travel the world? And then God saying everywhere, it all becoming so clear, Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes. The call to help other people from my baptism, then through others, then a police officer, and now here.

For God’s will to be done. On earth, and in heaven.

It's so hard to recall what happened after that, all of it mushed into a blur. I really need to record things before my bad memory washes it away. Again, Picasso at its finest. That night we went to Pirate's Cove to watch the sun set, and we got to see where the pirates used to hide their ships from enemies however-long-ago. It's amazing how nature can push you to your limits, and I yet again followed everyone to the edge of the cliff and crawled under the railing to lose myself on the very peak before the drop. After about half an hour of wandering my feet were planted back on the grass, people were singing out into the open, and the sun was setting. A chilly night led us back to the house with tired eyes and random little flowers in our hair from the grass.

The next day was the Devil's Punchbowl (which was really just a humongous cave shaped like a fishbowl), and we left around five a.m. in order to venture inside it before it filled up with seawater at high tide. It was really something to be out there so early in the day, watching my foot placement in order to not fall on the rocks, not looking up because I had to look down. The scenery just got more and more dynamic. Little tide pools that stretched forever with green moss and random tall pieces of rock that just jutted out from the ground as if to say, Hi, I'm here too. 

Once we made it into the punchbowl, it was a huge game of watch-your-step-or-you'll-split-your-head-open-on-a-sharp-rock. Even then, the little things you could find in there were so amazing, and you knew you were somewhere important because the photographers we
re all in there trying to get good photos before the waves came crashing in. Beautiful detailed starfish like I've never seen before, little seaweed bulbs (I forgot what they're called) that felt rubbery like jello, super-tiny red crabs, and finger-looking seaweed that hugged onto the rocks so intimately. The whole rock wall looked like it was painted with red chalk. It's so hard to remember what happened, but I remember wanting to just run past the rocks and out onto the ocean, and run forever on the red rocks. There will forever be nothing like freedom. 

That same day we went to a Renaissance Fair, which was the bane of my existence (just kidding--sorta). If shouting "Huzzah!" and watching fake-sword-fights are people's idea of having a good time, then I'm all for it. I'll admit that the outfits were pretty cool (thank you Lex for letting me borrow the nymph costume that I totally didn't ruin) and I demolished the concession-stand meat pies and butter beer like a feral wolf. I never thought you could fit so many experiences into one weekend, but yet, here I am; here we are. With a newer heart and adventure coursing through my veins. Travel is becoming my drug and I'm not complaining, not in the slightest.