Class of 2003

This weekend is my ten-year high school reunion. While I feel social media has helped reunions go the way of the VHS tape, I still can't help feeling nostalgic, pensive and proud. It's kind of awesome to belong to a group of individuals with something as singular and random as graduating the same high school. It is a odd and excellent thing to celebrate.  But then, we're an odd and excellent group.  

Movies and TV shows depict high school reunions as a place of petty, malicious, see who's now ugly, fat or a failure kinds of affairs. However, much like my high school experience, I find that, coming up on the reflection of the last 10 years to be anything but those gritty thoughts.

Sure, high school was challenging. It wasn't always the place we wanted to be. We all had that girl we wished would just get flattened while cow tipping. All had that one boy who never looked in our direction once, let alone twice. That unfair teacher. That haunting school picture with the frizz and the braces.

But we all had that partner in crime. Perhaps that one moment that outshines the crap. One inspiration. One day that makes us nostalgic for cookies at break and our decorated hall lockers.

It was such a huge part, and at the same time, such a small period of time in our lives. It shaped who we were when we first faced the world. It showed us life wasn't fair. It set the scene for first intense loves and equally as painful partings. There were questionable fashion choices and even worse music. But in the 10 years since, it has diminished in importance and luster, making way for new dreams, new friends, new life.

Funny how our ideals change. We, who once fantasized about being famous, in a band, on Broadway an astronaut, the president, now find the dreams we dream are perhaps of smaller scale but just as vivid and real. We dream of family, true love, travel, creative release, freedom, purpose and simple, pure happiness. I see so many of those dreams coming true for those I knew back when we were all still growing into who we would one day be.

I look around at the people I admired and I still do. I look for those I expected greatness of and see it. I look at myself, who I was and who I've become, who I could be, and I smile. It's that sweet spot, people. We've had some life, we've learned some things. We can grow from here. The potential is endless.

Like the song goes, "the more you need the people you knew when you were young." Growing up in a small town provided us an incredible (though I doubt many of us felt it while we were there) gift of home, of people to return to when we're feeling too rattled by the world, of friends regardless of distance or days between calls. Where we come from and who we knew back then will always be with us. 

We're an odd and excellent group.

Balance

I always thought balance, and the practice of obtaining it, was a see-saw.  trying to find a middle.  Keep the marble from rolling too far one way or the other.  My weekend shed a new perspective on balance.

I had a hot rock massage and my first sugar scrub (and my first thought was "I'm never leaving this place.") this weekend at the Salish Lodge and Spa.  

The place itself was so beautiful.  So serene and, when enveloped in fog, a perfect fall retreat.  We dined in a cloud for breakfast.  You were supposed to be able to see the impressive Snoqualmie Falls out the large windows but we couldn't see a foot from the glass.  It was incredible, spooky and blinding.  

Our room had a real fireplace that was a real pain in the ass to light.  We tried, the guest services guy tried, no one had success.  But it's fun to play with fire.  

We drove (got lost, whatever) to the Snoqualmie Casino and had dinner at their reasonably priced, pretty darn good food and excellent dessert countered buffet.  

Then came home and got into beds with yarn and wine and chocolate, watched crap TV (until SOMEone couldn't handle the commercials anymore) and shut the light off by what, Maya, 10?  In our defense, we did stay up until midnight-thirty.  Big spenders, party all night.

The next day, waking to brightly colored trees and the sound of falls in the blanket of fog, we headed to the spa where my world and skin was forever changed by this thing called a sugar scrub.  Just exfoliation and massage but crap was it lovely.  I'm going to attempt to make my own now that I know how amazeballs it can be. 

In between the scrub and my massage they sat us in this relaxation room with tea, water, nuts (weird?) and magazines.  I sat there for about 15 minutes with my empty (except for one small blob of water) cup.  I held it in my hand and slowly tilted it until the bead of water was in the very middle.  I attempted to keep it there, or move it around the edge to gather tiny droplets or get it as close to the edge without touching it, or shaking the cup to scatter the water and start again.  

In that moment it just hit me; this is what finding balance is.  It's not just halfway between two extremes like elation and misery.  It's not just middle ground.  It's finding a center, a stronghold, a place you feel peaceful and focused without excessive exertion.  It's doing what feels good for the individual.  We all find balance in different ways, but the concept is the same.  It's harmony.  

Anywho, I came home with a new appreciation, if not a new perspective, on sugar scrubs, therapeutic pools and balance.  I still anticipate falling down and accidentally running my limbs into walls on frequent occasions, but that's to be expected.  I found balance, not bubble wrap.