For the amazing ukulele and for meeting up on the road no matter how inconvenient it made your plans. For heating up water on the fire in the freezing mornings before I could even consider a commitment to waking. For teaching me “Ripple” so we could jam together at sunset and for sharing your cashew cheese on a sunny hike. For not taking advantage of us and for making Walmart way more fun. For chicken shit bingo and for filling your living room with waltz. For your wide eyes and warm showers. For believing in magic and earthquakes and the reincarnation of bears. For celebrating together in early January and for letting us store “just a few things” at your house. For picking up the phone to ask how we were doing and for dancing together under stars and rooftops and rain. Thanks for making sure we had AAA and health insurance and for helping us keep the van free of leaks and free of thieves. Thanks for referencing Nietzsche on the phone and for double-making sure the fire was out before we said goodnight. Thanks for preparing extremely local food together and for parking better than I do. Thanks for battling our exhaustion with your enthusiasm and meeting us with excitement when ours had run out. Thanks for helping us sleep peacefully in your flat driveways and for the special Turkish meal in Philly. Thanks for inviting us to use your kitchen while you went to work and for making us the most delicious cup of coffee in your aeropress-prius setup. Thanks for celebrating on your roof with Ardent-gifted beer and for the personal brewery tour. Thanks for wanting to go on long road trips to places you’d already been because you thought I might like them, and for waking me up with Roos Roast, unparalleled spunk, and “breakfast” cookies. Thanks for making me red clover tea when I was too sick to move off the couch and for karaoke. Thanks for hiking up Camel Back together and for letting us play with your dogs…and your goats.Thanks for teaching me to take better photos and for your consistent attempts to help me be more patient, a seemingly impossible task. Thanks for wanting to set up a hammock over the frigid river water and for letting me paint all of your faces. Thanks for stitching up our broken clothes and for dying my hair in your sink. Thanks for the special care package and for feeling totally cool about peeing in a jar. Thanks for fighting with me about things you care about and for drawing pictures together in a park. Thanks for stealing Nahko’s set list and for telling us how cold brew coffee signaled the beginning of gentrification in your home. Thanks for bringing us into your workspace and spending hours telling us about your life, your mission, your challenges. Thanks for accepting and celebrating us, knowing we’ve picked very different lives and will continue to do so. Thanks for having no plans last minute on Sunday, and spending the entire day together in Florida. Thanks for re-connecting as a family on the water and in your vibrant home. Thanks for supporting the kickstarter and supporting us for canceling it. Thanks for sending me pictures of all the tolls they sent to the house and for being the “location-keeper” on sketchy nights alone. Thanks for your wild imagination that you’ve never grown out of and for the book of campfire stories you wrote, illustrated, and gifted me. Thanks for telling me how you handle fear and for inviting us into your lives no matter how chaotic, busy, and stressed you were.Thanks for hand-cranking coffee in the ridiculously early morning and for kicking my ass at cards all night. Thanks for sharing your own questions and curiosities about the world, about happiness and “success”. Thank you for your courage in exploring other ways to live and inspiring the rest of us to do the same. This wasn’t a “trip” nor is it over, though its form evolves. I hope you’ll keep designing and shaping your own life with your own rules and keep talking honestly about what you’re going through. Keep asking hard questions and stretching out of your comfort, your routine. I hope you’ll stay critical about your intentions, your impulses, your cravings, your secrets, welcoming whatever you might find. You don’t have to know what it’s going to look like or what you want to do with the rest of your life. Instead, find home in uncertainty and peace in presence. Choose to be happy and commit to balance, instead of hoping to find these things along the way. Though this is the last post on this blog, creative projects are still coming out of this last year. I’ll be continuing to write and share them on my new blog you can find here and you can find Donnie’s beautiful videos coming out of Snaggy Mountain here.