Growing up in Sunday school I learned the term “my calling”.

It’s a thing that you’re destined to do, something that God draws on the map of who you are. Youth group leaders would talk about how they felt “called” to do certain things and the idea was that if you prayed and listened enough, you’d hear your calling.

When I dropped out of school to pursue music production and songwriting, I felt called to do it. When I wrote songs for people I loved, I felt called – like the songs were pulling their way out of my skull and I was called to help them through. When I spent did things for Hailey I felt called.

Likewise, something in the back of my head had always had its finger pointed at a map. A place removed from day to day chores and silly responsibilities. Off on a train or a bus somewhere in the north-east, observing, writing songs, living my life. It was in that spirit that I moved into a co-op called the Peanut Butter Palace in January of 2018, and it was there that I met Angeline.

Angeline and I were roommates. That is to say, we actually shared a room separated into sections by curtains. The first day I moved in, there were several plastic tubs stacked up in my new room and I started to move them out.

“What are you doing?” Someone called from the other side.

“Uh, I dunno, I guess just moving these tubs out so I can vacuum. What’s this?”

“Those are my boxes of worms. They’re transitioning, they need to be kept in a dark place. You can leave them there.”

Boxes of worms.  That’s how I met Angeline. I learned later she was a mountain climber, an ultramarathon runner, a scuba diver, an aspiring mycologist, a traveling lacrosse umpire, and the free-est spirit I’d ever met. Still, that’s just the exterior – and it’s the inside that would inspire the art.

We’d stay up and she’d tell me stories of living out of her car, traveling in countries where she didn’t speak the language, doing drugs I hadn’t heard of in desert raves, hiking for weeks on trails out west. She had lived so much life in ways I hadn’t, and vice versa. I had never met someone who had such a passion for finding ways to live sustainably either. From setting up a bathroom compost for hair and fingernail clippings to taking sailor showers turning off the water while scrubbing, she made an entertaining game out of all of it. Something about her was antsy and nervous, but she was full of energy and personality and stories and we became friends.

I love to learn. Angeline loves to explain things to people. I eventually let her convince me to try a membership to a local climbing gym. A few of us from the Palace who called ourselves the Pod Squad (me, Angeline, and ) would carpool over to Longwood and spend a couple of hours climbing. Angie was the best climber I knew there. She had worked professionally as a Matterhorn climber at Disneyland, she had been a route-setter and was certified in rope access safety.

I, therefore, learned to love climbing. The blend of puzzle solving and body weight training. I enjoyed the discipline of it. The patience of it. We’d climb a few times a week, grab food at Del Taco, and then come back and hang out. We both loved to stay up late. We’d stay up whispering telling stories and laughing. We talked about our past relationships, our favorite bands, how we had no idea how each other liked one another’s music.

She had some problems with a couple cavities and I worked out something with my dad to get it done. She came up and did some work for my parents, and I assisted as my dad filled her teeth.

Eventually, Angeline and I became better and better friends until one day we weren’t sure what we were anymore. We stayed that way for a long time. We went sailing together. Then we went to the beach together and then fought all the way home. But several weeks later we decided to go on a trip again together to Georgia to climb and for her umpire some lacrosse tournaments. And that is where the story begins.

May 31st