The Spy

Monday morning in the almost daylight of Portland in the wintertime. Not quite raining, but more than cloudy, and I am downtown waiting for the shuttle. I cant help but notice, even just anthropologically, how people are perceiving me, muddy, half soaked, still in my running tights and don't-shoot-me salmon pink raincoat. In a city too full of hipsters and outdoor-freaks, its intriguing. I haven't showered since Saturday, but the offer of a free ride downtown, plus the inability to care how I look these days--it was too good to pass up. Plus, I'm comfortable, and lately taking of my workout clothes or camping clothes kind of breaks the spell of endorphins and power and freedom just the way taking off concert black and white used to for me back in the day. And I'm just beyond lazy--this way I can stretch the laundry neccesity maybe one more day...

I feel sort of like Harriet the Spy, crouched here in the corner watching the Penguin parade pour off of the Max, all toting coffee and looks of grim resolution. At least the rain's stopped for the moment, and I can feel the heat streaming from Nordstroms. The same guy has been fiddling with the ATM across the way for the last five minutes, my knees are irritating so I'm balanced flamingo like, and halfway afraid that the next passing homeless women's little furry hot-dog is going to lift his hind leg and pee on my bag. But the lines between homeless and LC kid are fuzzy, and the crazy guy ranting on the corner turns out to be in my stats class, and then what?

I think I found my thesis topic, after wading through yet another classic Peggy existential adventure this past week. I don't know why or wherefrom my need to make life as difficult as I possibly can, but I know that I do and apparently I may as well get used to the idea. I know that everything good I've ever done, everything good thats ever happened to me has scared the friggin' crap out of me at the time. The question that remains--is it good because it scares the crap out of me, or does scaring the crap out of me make it good?

Right, so, thesis. I found it in deep ecology and using outdoor and environmental education (not to mention wilderness therapy) programs as a means for social justice. I've been reading all this stuff about how therapy programs working with at-risk populations (what does that actually physically mean, at risk??) ultimately fail in the long term because they further the objectication and imposed hierarchy of all the good race, class, gender, whatever labels.They teach all these amazing stuff and really do accomplish alot in the intervention process-efficacy, agency, self-actualization...plus all that oh-so-vital environmental awareness. But they teach it as out-there, with no connection or application or appreciation of back home realities. And then these kids tend to relapse because they haven't been taught how to use their skiills in a context familiar and helpful to them. Deep ecology purports that we must reform the paradigm so that nature is considered and valued (more importantly) as all around us, not just some pristime, untravelled entity out-there far removed from the day to day life we know. And in doing so we improve not only the human-nature connection, but in advancing notions like interdependency etc. we also improve the human-human connection as well. And thats not even saying anything about the almost institutionalized racism in the outdoor industry and the socio-cultural context of land use among minorities, plus the lack of access and lack of context of wilderness for quite a lot of people...

I keep running into my Birch Trail training in strange ways. Namely, the hike this weekend turned pacing waaaay against me. I'm still very much in the habit of the almost sheep-dog like cattleprod method of leading trips---as you must be when dealing with children. And Sunday, even trekking through the downpour, I couldn't quite shake the notion that someone must be at the back of the group or at least nearby. I mean, sure, its legal risktaking adults that I'm dealing with at this point, not to mention peers of mine usually, but I still get nervous as the group spreads out and people start to wander. Even beyond the whole first-aid neccesity I think some of its just a more friendly environment when someone is close by. Nobody likes to be the last one puffing up a hill--its almost embarassing. I have a really hard time switching gears--particularly when in a lot of ways working with college kids is really no different from working with ten year olds. I am so thankful, though, that I have small kids as my first outdoor job experience, because its made me hyperconcious of everything and extra vigilent at all times out of habit. I think it would probably be a rougher transition to go the other direction, to learn kids after dealing with adults. But I know how to lead a safe trip, I know how to be totally goofy, how to put people at ease. And that has prooved to be the most useful in the scheme of things.

The reality of the choices that I'm making is slowly settling in. I'm learning to enjoy the response I get from people when I tell them my plans for the great beyond college include moving to Utah and finaggling someone to pay me to be outside. And working on telling people about what I'm truely going to write my thesis on. And feeling like I belong up in Sequoia, and like I'm one of those crazy CO kids in the eyes of the students on my trips. Or pondering the neccesity of a car should I really run off to the desert for a while---*gasp*. Life is slowly becoming more real, much to my surprise and pleasure.

I love driving over the northside bridges and catching bluesky peak around the horizon...I'll just leave it at that.