I found the small rock I picked up off the shore of Loch Lomond tonight. It was sitting on my desk (has been all semester) but I haven't really noticed it. I guess we notice things when we're meant to notice them. I remember how cathartic Scotland was for me, especially Loch Lomond. I was able to put my life into perspective after being there. I think it's a sign that it's time for me to put my life into perspective again. So I picked up my journal and found my Scotland entry. Maybe typing it here will help me to realize what that small sign is trying to tell me right now. Here goes:

My journal is now laden with sand from Loch Lomond. I didn't put it there. It blew in, and as I tried to brush it away, it occurred to me that I should keep it. What's wrong with a natural keepsake? I think the shores of Scotland want a piece of themselves to go with me back home. And I want a piece of Scotland to follow me. Actually, I think I'd be perfectly happy to call Scotland home. It's picturesque and untouched perfection before my eyes. Too breathtaking and beautiful to be adequately captured in a picture. Like an untamed William Wallace, untamed Scotland fights captivation of any form- even as a member of the United Kingdom. The clouds are so low, I feel like I could reach up on my tip-toes and pull them down. But they'd fight it too. Robert the Bruce, inspired by a persevering spider said, "if at first you don't succeed, try, try, again." So Scotland did, has, and will. And so I will as well-- taking my inspiration from that wild beauty that is Scotland......

Random thoughts come on random pages today. I couldn't write continuously and thought trying to pick up where I left off just felt wrong. Maybe my attitude has already been somehow altered, so trying to pick up isn't right. To sum up this weekend, I might simply say: I love Scotland.

It's old and Gothic and spectacular, and I could spend years exploring all of its beauties and still never feel satisfied that I'd seen it all. Continuing my thoughts from beside Loch Lomond, I feel so utterly cleansed and refreshed. Untamed, beautiful Scotland has inspired me to "try, try again" and reminded me that with only five weeks left abroad, there is no need to waste my time with negativity. There are worse things in the world than the frustrations I feel in class. Take for instance the strangely saddening story of Hamish, the famous highlands cow, who is quarantined because of Mad Cow Disease. he has no "cow-mates", so he feeds off of the human contact he gets from tourists who come to visit, smile, talk to him, and take his picture. Fourteen years old and totally alone. I tried to put my self in his...hooves...and I got really depressed. Makes me want to give up beef for a while, honestly. I don't know what it is about Scotland that just captured a piece of my heart. I know I'm an absolute romantic about old world charm and such, but it was different than Bath, somehow. I keep coming back to the idea of capturing and taming and Scotland's apparent disdain for both. Yes, there are modern buildings and conveniences, but it's mostly this wild country that, though it has changed a great deal in 350 million years since it sat on the equator, it hasn't done much changing in a couple thousand years. Its natives are proud and strong. They have the reputations of William Wallace and Rob Roy to live up to, and they like their way of life just fine. Just note the plaid fabric on the bus seats. Again, it frustrates me and amuses me and amazes me that I can't even capture Scotland adequately in my digital photographs, let alone in my humble journal entries. Maybe I'm only meant to experience certain things. Just open my eyes and look, open my ears and listen, open my nose and smell, my mouth and taste, my hands and touch...rather than look through a view finder and snap, hoping to convey to my family and friends how amazing everything was. And they'll look at the photos and read my journal and they'll think it's all beautiful and fantastic, but they won't know what it felt like to stand in the mucky sands of the beach of Loch Lomond, practically touching the clouds, watching the water ripple, and feeling truly alive and open for the first time in a long time. Feeling like I could try my hand at some poetry and it might actually be kind of decent. I could conquer anything in Scotland- fears, enemies, goals, ambitions. "What should I fear having all joys about me?" When I stress out, freak out, act out, I think I'll just put myself back on that little patch of grass beside the Loch, try to breathe in the Scottish air, and calm myself down. "Oh, I'll take the high road, and you'll take the low road, and I'll be in Scotland before you..." My mantra. Thank you, beautiful, untamed Scotland, for all that you are, and all that you will forever mean to me.

I have opened my journal up to that entry every single time I've felt out of control or lost this semester. And I always feel better.