Born July 13, 1975 in a small Connecticut town - USA. Moved out at age 18 to attend Bryn Mawr College, an even smaller women's college outside of Philadelphia. Two-thirds of the way through a Comparative Religion degree, decided I wanted to study English Literature. Graduated. Worked for a bit in the non-profit realm in Philly, and moved two years later to Brattleboro, Vermont where I got my master's in international management at the School for International Training.

Read Small Is Beautiful and fell in love with the idea of appropriate technology. Cursed my father (a tinkerer who passed his genes to me) for not advising me to study engineering. Moved to San Francisco to help start up a microenterprise and asset development organization. Boss was Satan's mother. Left to work in resource recovery (recycling and reuse) for three years.

This past year and a half, I met some of the most wonderful people in the world, and had some truly mind-blowing, life-changing and completely sober experiences - yoga, Burning Man, a great big-hearted community of friends, meeting my own fears, accepting the abundance of the world despite my fears, and loving a fellow journeyer who won't let me become complacent.

So, I'm leaving all of it. Because it'll still be here while I'm thousands of miles away. Or at least it will still *be*, as will I. And all of it is part of me now anyway, and vice versa. I'm going to see what I can learn out there about love and attachment and fear and ego, lessons that I can't fully learn while I'm near the things and people I love in my life. And what I may learn is that this is where I'm supposed to be.

Where am I going? I will soon have a one-way ticket to Bangkok. And I plan to fly back to SF from France. In the interim, I might tool around SE Asia, head overland as much as possible through the Indian subcontinent and Central Asia, stopping to visit my cousin in Baku, Azerbaijan, and then on to France to get my French in good working order. 6 months? More? Less? We'll see how that goes.

It's nearly a month before I go, and I'm busy tying up loose ends here in SF and trying not to give in to self-doubt. One summer when I was six or so, it took me months of agony and shame and fear standing at the edge of the diving board nearly every day before I finally leapt off into that scary abyss. It's been months in the works, and only a little less agony and shame and fear, but that leap is coming up again, really fast. I trust that I'll figure out how to swim before I drown.

Here's to safe journies, even if they don't involve travel.

PS - A note on the name. I've recently been inspired by various traditions regarding warriors. Incidentally, my first and last name shorten to ValCarey, or Valkyrie. The Valkyries, a band of warrior-maidens, served Odin as choosers of slain warriors, who were taken to reside in Valhalla. There the warriors would spend their days fighting and nights feasting until Ragnarok, the day of the final world battle, in which the old gods would perish and a new reign of peace and love would be instituted. Ordinary individuals were received after death by the goddess Hel in a cheerless underground world. More info here, or run an Internet search.