An april without a season.

I think it is becoming winter here, but everything manages to feel like summer. I am quite sure, however, that it is April--a fact that reminds me that time is passing quickly despite my seasonal confusion. Something tells me the seasons on Cape Cod next year will be more clearly delineated.

Apologies upfront for having left you hanging in the past weeks with my lack of funny anecdotes about cultural differences or colorful pictures about my adventures. Truth be told, I've been busy, and been enjoying my work!

I have been becoming reflective, however, as my time in Brazil is drawing to a close. If I think long and hard enough, I can remember what it felt like to transition in September: the whirlwind of thesis-finishing. The excitement and sense of independence I tried to project (and the fears that I shared less readily). The occasionally paralyzing sense of self-doubt when I found myself in a country that was not mine, without a place that felt comfortable, and detached from my support network of friends and family to buoy me in those moments.

The manic highs of cultural contrast--the blissful moments when I have felt that I have completely captured what it means to live, freely. Warmly. Always growing towards an unknown, yet grounded in my relationships and my experiences. The conversations with strangers that sometimes put things into perspective so quickly and strikingly. The exploration of what it means to make my own work schedule, set my own goals, and be a member of a research team (often by Skype or over coffee or beers in airports or hotels).

The introspection that comes with an overabundance of alone time. The anxiety and projections of insecurities that fill the empty spaces, that I have learned, more frequently, to toss away. Or to share...and then to gently release. There are bigger and better things to do with my mental energy. My inner tug-of-war: do I let the people and events of my life wash upon me with the tide--or do I grasp tightly to an oar and paddle...paddle hard?

As always, it can usually be summed up in one word for me: balance. But without a sense of my limitations and boundaries and a renewal of my concept of the vastness of possibility, it is a difficult concept to entertain. I need these times that shake me up to find those lines. To lean against them, push them outward, and find that the fear of falling is not enough to keep me from returning every-so-often to an edge that, in turn, may help me find my equilibrium.

I suppose what I am trying to say is that it was a good idea to be in Brazil this year. Those of you that know me well know that I seldom will retrospectively address any decision with regret, so this could hardly be an exception. But beyond my general sense of unwavering optimism, I feel, at the same time, that I have become more tough-skinned and sure-footed--yet more susceptible to eerie chills in moments of beauty, and more prone to smiling for no reason at all. Always, always, I become more appreciative of my family, my friends, and the people who choose to tie their lives up with my own, in varying degrees. I am looking forward to being able to share time with and do tangible things for the people who are close to my heart, but who have been geographically distant. Argue, banter, hug, make music, stare at campfires, be silent.

Loyal followers of my ramblings, I promise that after another weekend and week of work this week, you will have fun pictures from my adventures next weekend, if not before. Know that your patience is contributing to the quality of a cattle rent model predicting patterns of Amazon deforestation. And, since---guess what? Have you heard the world is warming? (You would have had to have buried your head in the sand of late to avoid being enveloped by the news media in their unfurling of banners and climbing enthusiastically onto the climate change bandwagon.) Send all contributions motivated by guilt for culpability of global warming to the Woods Hole Research Center. I can promise you more concrete results than your contributions to Al Gore's campaign fund ;)

Whatever you do...don't plant trees in Canada. Or Greenland. It seems new research shows that the world might have no change in temperature, even if we clearcut the entire planet! And that you might especially be contributing to global warming if you plant trees in the arctic (something to do with albedo and reflection of solar warmth, cloud cover formation, etc) How's that for mind boggling?