I got kicked off a train in the middle of the Oregon wilderness for vaping. As I was being escorted off, Liz gave me her number and told me if I couldn’t catch another train, she would come back to pick me up and drive me the rest of the way to Olympia herself. We had only just met. I’ve always had the most incredible conversations with strangers and loved ones alike. Real ones. The kind that don’t happen when there’s a mic in the room and a list of questions on the table. So I started recording them and just capturing what was already happening, and asking permission after. This is that series. “Meeting People Where They Are” Liz was on her way home from visiting her daughters. One about to walk at graduation. One already taking college classes for veterinary school while still in high school. She talked about her husband, who used to train hop with her, and who died being hit by a train. She talked about how he still shows up as a bird that talks to them, warns them, watches over them. We talked about grief and the kids who become strong so nobody else has to be. Sobriety, ADHD, the medication spiral that starts at five years old and doesn’t stop. Brainspotting. What it means to finally not need alcohol to come out of your shell. Halfway through our conversation it hit me that this was too beautiful not to capture, and that Liz might just be the perfect person to launch this series with. So I quietly hit record. I asked her after if I could share it with you here. She said yes. Liz, thank you. For your openness, your warmth, your willingness to go deep with a stranger on a train, and for trusting me and everyone listening with the things you carry. You embody exactly what this series is about. The audio isn’t perfect. We weren’t in a studio. That’s the point ~ P.S. You may be wondering if I ever got that woman a ticket to Mexico. I recorded the intro outside Portland Union Station with four minutes before my train, and a stranger came up asking for help getting to Mexico. I wish I could have. I didn’t have time, and she didn’t have a phone for me to send her anything to. I think about her and hope she found her way ~ P.P.S. You’ll notice the wind kept cutting through the intro audio. I thought about re-recording it indoors, but honestly? It felt wrong to. I was outside on a train platform, four minutes to spare, cigarette in hand, trying to get this down before I missed my train. The wind was there. It stays. This series was always meant to be raw and real, and sometimes raw and real is a little bit windy ~ P.P.P.S. The whole point of recording people without telling them first was so they wouldn’t feel shy or perform for the mic. The irony is that this was my first time doing it, and knowing I was recording had me feeling a little awkward and strange at the start. It showed up as a nervous laugh and probably as jumping in a little too much early on ~ interrupting before she fully landed, finishing thoughts before they were finished. A nervous tick of someone who knew they were being observed, even if only by themselves. As the conversation found its rhythm though, so did I. I eased back into just being present with her, and that’s when it really opened up. That’s the thing about real conversations ~ They find their own rhythm eventually, if you let them ~ P.P.P.P.S. There’s a moment in this conversation I’ve been sitting with since listening back. Liz shares some guilt around her daughter stepping up to help hold things together after losing her husband, and I touched on it briefly by mentioning my own mom, who raised five of us largely alone and had to give up so much of herself to do so. What I wish I had expanded on in that moment is this ~ it’s not just okay to need people during the hardest seasons of your life. It’s human. My mom needed her village too. My eldest siblings helped raise us younger ones, and that kind of collective holding of each other is something I think we’ve been taught to feel shame around when really it’s one of the most beautiful expressions of love there is. We were never meant to do the hard things alone. And the children who step up during those times ~ yes, they often do grow up faster than they should have to. That’s real, and it deserves to be honored. And at the same time, what they’re learning in those moments about love, about showing up, about what it means to hold someone through the worst of it ~ that stays with them too. I just wanted to name that ~ for Liz, for her daughter, and for anyone else who has ever needed someone to step in and hold things for a while. That’s not weakness. That’s just life, doing what it does ~ P.P.P.P.S. There’s a moment in this conversation I’ve been sitting with since listening back. Liz shares some guilt around her daughter stepping up to help hold things together after losing her husband, and I touched on it briefly by mentioning my own mom, who raised five of us largely alone and had to give up so much of herself to do so. What I wish I had expanded on in that moment is this ~ it’s not just okay to need people during the hardest seasons of your life. It’s human. My mom needed her village too. My eldest siblings helped raise us younger ones, and that kind of collective holding of each other is something I think we’ve been taught to feel shame around when really it’s one of the most beautiful expressions of love there is. We were never meant to do the hard things alone. And the children who step up during those times ~ yes, they often do grow up faster than they should have to. That’s real, and it deserves to be honored. And at the same time, what they’re learning in those moments about love, about showing up, about what it means to hold someone through the worst of it ~ that stays with them too. I just wanted to name that ~ for Liz, for her daughter, and for anyone else who has ever needed someone to step in and hold things for a while. That’s not weakness. That’s just life, doing what it does ~ xx Hannah TIME STAMPS: 0:00 | intro to the intro ~ what this series is about 6:27 | portland union station | five minutes and a cigarette 11:40 | the conversation with Liz begins ~ This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit noeticlandscapes.substack.com
