Vision Fast, Truth Telling

Its slowly getting dark, and I am afraid. I am sitting in the south gateway, inside the medicine wheel I've built for myself behind my shelter in this aspen grove. Its been raining on and off today, and the damp chill is doing nothing to make staying awake and upright more appealing. I brought nothing except a lighter to make fire, and it seems like tonight is not the night. Its taking a lot of willpower not to just crawl into my sleeping bag right now and get warm, mercifully turn my brain off for the day. I'd like to make it until at least three stars in the sky, same as we tell the students. My feet are pretty cold, and I keep catching myself starring enviously at my citronella candle, burning next to the alter with the last wisps of Utah sage.

A ho, great spirit, I'm calling on you. Oh great spirit, what else can I do. Please open me up, so I can receive, please open me up so I can believe. Oh great spirit, I'm calling on you.

I pray tonight for patience, for courage, and for faith. I pray with all the love in my heart, with all the compassion I can muster, and with the strength of all my ancestors, living and dead, who I ask hold me on this journey tonight. Bless me teachers, be compassionate, for I have troubles.

I keep forgetting that I'm fasting, and semi-automatically reaching out for my p-food. I haven't been that hungry yet, and haven't really had a full meal since Thursday lunch at the office. My only worry so far food-wise is just not having the calories to help keep me warm, and soon not having the energy to move around much to get warm. I meant to eat dinner last night, but the sweat was so crazy intense I kind of didn't have it in me by the time we finished around midnight.

The sweat was strange--thermodynamically, physically, socially, emotionally. Each of the two rounds started out super super hot, and quickly. Then they got intense and beautiful, with lots of music and prayer and a lot of various personal commitment and discoveries. I felt awkward, self-conscious, and uncomfortable sitting mostly naked and sandwiched between Evan and Nicholas. I think the greater truth is I'm not really comfortable naked.

The lower the light, the thicker the mosquitoes.

I don't remember much of the first round, besides it was really long and cold by the end once we ran out of water to pour. I know I was pushed, and said some pretty crucial things for myself, but I don't really recollect the specifics.

The greater truth is in the second round. One that even thinking about writing down on paper makes my body contract and cringe involuntarily. And my mind swivel around looking to see if three stars have appeared magically to free me from this task for a little longer. Sadly, no such easy way out quite yet.

I lay sucking dirt for a while and stewing, while everyone else either seemed to be having these wonderful transformational experiences, or left the lodge in apathy, impatience, boredom, or disgust. I felt for Emily, who got into this huge emotional argument with Nicholas, and then got so worked up she had to leave. The whole time though, my head was telling me how stupid and minor the conversation felt, and my heart kept screaming at me that I had big things to say. I opened my mouth and the greater truth sort of fell right out into the naked darkness.

The truth is I think Noah raped me, that night at the end of freshman year. Given how my body is reacting to the admission, with flashbacks and nightmares and shakes and a whole lot of numb disbelief, I judge it to be true and real. And my vision quest full of darkness and demons got a fair amount larger and deeper last night. I feel a little bitter for it, and a lot of fear and curiosity. I never wanted it to be like this, never wanted rape to be something I identify with, so I convinced myself it wasn't true. That I wanted to sleep with him that night (I did), and that I was in control of the situation ( I wasn't). The truth is I was wasted, drunk and high, and he was sober. The truth is I don't remember if I said no, and I certainly didn't fight very much. The truth is it hurt, and he kept going. Kept going 'till my sheets were bloody the next morning and my neck was so bruised I wore scarves for more than a week following. The truth is I blame myself for baiting him, for putting myself in the dangerous situation in the first place, for not fighting enough, and for lying to myself for five years.

Darkness and Light

Tuesday again. Wilderness therapy has officially ruined Tuesdays for me. I think its funny, I remember this feeling from long ago, I remember the emptiness in my stomach of wanting to sit down and write, and not finding the time and space to do so. I remember this from way way back--in the pink room at Tailcoat, which must have been maybe third or forth grade. Its weird to me how pieces seem to keep falling together, how long lost reminisces which I never even imagined are conspiring to bring me here to the precipice of this journey. I think its also funny how strongly I'm fighting it, how fervently I keep searching out for others to dull the edge of the mayhem I feel, for answers, for direction, for prayers, for protection, ultimately all things I am quite capable of doing for myself. I mean, I just googled "vision quest advice". Yesterday I spent a couple of hours at the bead shop in town making myself a talisman necklace, with the help of our local crystal magic lady. I want so badly for someone to show me the way, to reassure me that I will come out of this with certainty and grace. I want some concrete reminder and explanation, I want somebody to give me the faith and acceptance which I lack.

In so many ways my life has been leading me here for very much longer than this last month. I've been coming to realize how much I sleep through, and what a profound affect that has on my existence. I realized a bit of the greater role of my exhaustion I remember junior or senior year at L&C. How the more depressed I'd get the more I'd simply pass out, turn off. And then the more I'd fall asleep, the more coffee I'd consume, the more caffeine in my system, then the worse I'd feel. Even then though I never realized the sort of greater metaphorical implications--I want to be a woman who is awake--to the world, to myself, to opportunity. It goes back so much further than college, too. I remember middle school dances, being so uncomfortable that I sat on the stage, put my head down and went to sleep. I've always sort of prided myself on my abilities to fall asleep whenever and wherever possible, though now I wonder if its the healthiest of hidden talents.

I'm worried I'll just sleep through the quest. That the weight of hours and the dragon breath of my demon travel partners might just prove too overwhelming and I'll just seep the day gone for the sake of the passage of time. I don't want to waste this experience, I want it to be thick and meaningful, yet I question my physical ability to stay conscious and present when the truth of life is so draining.

I remember reading some of Bill Plotkin's book for that ecopsych class, way before I knew anything about Durango. I remember reading about his first vision fast before starting AVI, and thinking "why in the hell would anybody ever do something like that?!" I am trying to take comfort and some solace in the synchronicity of this experience, how blatantly and clearly it seems that I am supposed to be here, doing this thing. My fears are large and diabolical, and I kind of want to just go and get it over with right now. I know I have the physical endurance to make it through, its just the mental and emotional stamina that I question.

Looking to my darkness still feels really counter intuitive. I spend so much of my energy and will doing the work so as not to be so sad, fighting off all that dark with all the light I can summon. Purposefully looking the other direction, intentionally moving towards that sadness instead of away from it feels like a betrayal of sorts, an abandonment of the battle, a resignation to suffering. I am coming to know that in fighting to get and be well, to pull myself out of that heart wrenching dark space I began to ignore that it ever existed. My greatest fear in life right now is being that depressed again. It scares me so much that I've glued my eyes shut to the reality of it, ignore the possibility of it, and have forgotten the balance inherent within such darkness. I want to face that fear not with the hopes of vanquishing sadness forever, I don't believe that's possible. I want to learn to coexist, and in doing so open myself to a more full expression of emotion without fear of getting overwhelmed.

I take myself to the woods, both the polished and the tarnished. I take my compassion, my curiosity, and my sense of adventure. I bring stars for perspective, my hands for company, and my feet for grounding. I bring my hopes to the woods to birth and hopefully some demons to put to rest. I bring even that persistent fluttering in my chest yelling...

Vision Fast, the Beginning

If I could right now, I'd say to myself to sit down, stop distracting myself, and chill the fuck out. My black whole which this swan is circling timidly is all of these emotions that I don't ever stick more than a toe of myself into. Because any emotion invites them all, and that opens me to the sadness and anger that I sense so often boils just below the surface. The undertone that I feel everyday is just enough for me to fight against. My worry for this journey, this adventure is that I can't resign myself to experiencing all of those things, that I don't have enough faith and acceptance to make it safe to go there. Any emotion it seems like is so thickly tied to depression. I know this is supposed to be about going to those dark places, but I can't help but be afraid to let down that final wall. I've known those dark places, that dark almost killed me. I don't trust that I have the tools and the support and the knowledge I need to venture there, and to find my way back.

Straight Joyful

I'm feeling so much joy in this moment. Joy to have slept for more than ten hours last night, to have woke up to sunshine and clear skies after days of rain, joy to be sitting in the sunshine in a meadow full of wildflowers watching elk. And a whole lot of joy and giddy energy for this group of girls right now, all light and committed and hilarious. I left last night to go on break and they were teaching each other breakdance moves. My heart feels excited when I think about the possibilities, and also a little apprehensive when I think about the inevitable crash that will come.

On my mind I'm finding the vision fast, potentially moving to the boys' group, another intake in a few days, our little miss F, and the giant rain cloud slowly gathering off the eastern horizon. I think if working through the winter taught me how to sit with being anxious about cold and dark, then this summer will teach me about cold and wet. Right now the incessant storms leave me with a sense of foreboding and anger, but it also makes me realize the metaphor in it, how very literally the sun will come out again tomorrow, even if I'm pissed off and cranky in the meantime. We are laying over here today to manufacture some kind of wannabe solo experience, and I am still avoiding thinking about my own. Much less the suggestion that maybe I think about a shift into other groups besides the ladies. I mentioned to Ellen how lately I've been feeling resentful of the folk I know working with the guys or the adults for what I perceive as an easier work experience. The reality is, I'm resentful because we've had such a rough go for the last couple of months, and I get angry when I hear about others easy time of it. I've never worked elsewhere really, so a lot of my resentment happens because I don't really have any knowledge of the ups and downs of the other groups. I also don't really know how to handle my reactions to the tough groups of kids, I tend to internalize too much and get way too caught up in the outcome that I want and imagine rather than the process. I'm just not convinced how leaving would teach me any of those things. Though judging by how frightening the prospect sounds in my brain and in my heart right now, it would probably be a good thing, or the right thing.

Future Talk

Its Wednesday and this adventure is slowly winding down. It is both wonderful and super strange. I'm really glad the weather got a bit less fabulously awesome in the last couple of days, otherwise I'd really start questioning why on earth I ever left this place. But its cloudy and cool today and pretty humid, enough of a reminder of the last five winters to make me appreciate Colorado and Durango's 300 days of sunshine a year.

It's not that I miss Portland (I do), but being here after being away for so long has definitely clarified some things that I want in my life. Or, at least whatever turns into my next step after Durango. And I guess the heady realization that there will be a next step after Durango, Durango will not hold the next step itself. My next life will involve public transportation and culture. And I will be involved in culture. My next life will be closer to water, though I wonder how much I'll miss the desert when it's not part of my life. I'll bike regularly and use my car pretty exclusively for weekend adventuring. I will feel that I belong in the next place I live, not like I'm just blending in with the tourists and the transient college kids. There will be opportunities to use my languages, and affordable ways to learn about new things in my next life. There will be better bookshops and libraries and room for life outside of work and work folks. I will feel like I'm engaged in the place and in the process. There will be striking views and striking people. There will be things to do and access to wild places. There will be lots of green in my next life, or at least lots of wild and natural space. I wont feel so isolated.

Public Health

What is the draw?

I want to be doing more multicultural stuff, but with some real meaning behind it. More than just on paper, more than just general race/ethnicity relations with no teeth and no backbone besides just good intentions. I think public health is at the very core--social work. Health care, or inadequate access to it is terrifying, and a huge financial and sociocultural burden. Even more so if the hurdle is linguistic or cultural. Health just seems so much more concrete and basic, fulfilling a basic need on the way to more global understanding and harmony. I think mental health access even more so--and all the more culturally complex. I see that I mean every day even at Open Sky--how inaccessible even our program is if you are anyway outside of what they conceive as the cultural norm.

When I imagine myself years down the road I imagine having worked abroad with refugees, and then being back in the states somewhere doing community development work in public health in some capacity, serving diversity and multiculturalism. I picture being a case worker for someone like Catholic Charities, working hand-in-hand with individuals and families. I picture using other languages and cultural background and experiences to make myself more accessible and appropriate. I picture myself living and working as part of the community, most likely and realistically a Spanish speaking one. I see myself living in a town probably bigger than Durango, with access to culture and to wilderness.

Homecomings of Sorts

I spent another beautiful, albeit relatively sleepless night last night tenting next to the Rogue River, just inland from Gold Beach into the Siskiyou National Forest. A pretty awesome compromise, scenery wise anyway. I am beginning to loath my tent, as every night lately that I've used it I'm kept awake by incessant flapping. I usually just throw the rain fly over pretty halfheartedly and call it good in the name of mosquito killing. But I got up three separate times last night to secure the damn thing. Bivy-ing is so much quieter, but I'd forgotten that the magical land of ferns and 64 shades of green is also the magical land of insects. So flapping, plus the first round of lumber trucks and boats at about 5:30 made it another early/late morning. I wake early then argue with myself/doze for five minute increments for another couple of hours and its halfway to lunch time all of a sudden.

It always fascinates me how returning home, wherever and whichever home that may be, brings up all this desperate need to project myself and appear different than when I left. Bigger, more advanced, more mature, more together. Most definitely with better clothes and a stronger sense of self. Today this meant sitting in the car and plucking my eyebrows in the rear view (as it often does with impending arrival for some reason). Only a wee bit horrifying because I am sitting in such a beautiful place surrounded by hundreds of miles of more beautiful places on my way to a supremely beautiful place where people love me. That my insecurity can be so profound that this shall be how I shape what they think of me. Not the books that I've read and loved or the places I have seen or the shape of my adventures and my heart--but the shape of my eyebrows. It makes me wonder what I am trying to hide, and whats the worst that can happen.

I think deeply forget everything that I've accomplished and witnessed as time passes and the space between widens. I forget so easily what I learn--I think that's a big reason why I cling so steadfastly to writing down my days in my bones. In the last year since I left Portland I learned about being afraid. I learned that my fear is perpetual, and sometimes I manage better then others. I learned that it can be a good measure of my inspiration and spontaneity--being outside of my comfort zone so necessary and so counter--intuitive. My fear can also be a great measure for exhaustion and complacency--when my stomach stop twinging I get into trouble like at Birch Trail. I learned I can stick to a dream even if I'm not instantly good at it, that some things can click on the 378 try instead of the first or second. I learned a lot about communicating directly, and about how conflict avoidant I am. I learned about how much it rattles me when things go unresolved. I learned I love been a dirtbag but I'm probably not destined to live out of my car anytime soon. I learned to say and instead of but. I've learned to love the desert, and smalltown living, and that I crave big water and culture all the more and even still. I've learned that people will surprise you infinitely, and most often the ones who you thought would be in your life will run the other direction, and the ones who you mourned may just stick around for awhile.

Shit, shit shit shit shit too much coffee makes me feel like my heart is going to combust. Silly buy one get one free mocha-deals, why yes, don't mind if I do. Oregon is making me feel sort of sensory overloaded anyway, I mean they have MOSS here, like grow from the ground green cushy fungusy moss. And old-man's-beard. I had forgotten such things even existed. So strange.

I'm almost to Lincoln City, chilling out at some highway wayside and taking a quick breather. The closer I get to Portland the more overwhelming it suddenly seems. I kind of want to stay another night by the coast and postpone more people time. I really like stopping wherever I fancy and staying and exploring as long or as short as I like. Being in charge and responsible to and for no one is a great and long dreamt about experience. I think I may come back out and spend another couple nights on the water at the end of the week.

Torn

Breaking temporarily this early evening at another roadside beach just shy of Crescent City far too breathtaking to pass by. The redwood drive tried to steal my heart but I have a long way to go in the next couple weeks before satisfying my thirst for big water. I'm torn even right now over paying big money to camp beach side in some state park, or driving inland for cheaper on the National Forest.

It still fascinates me how intimately I associate feeling any emotion strongly with wanting to sit down and write. Also, it's still a little mystifying to me how that's my only signifier for experiencing emotion--the certainty that I'm freaking out in some direction, the stirring in my gutt and the squeezing in my throat, and the almost overwhelming desire to sit and spill it all on pen and paper. It took me a couple of hours of driving today to figure out exactly what my emotions were connected to, after Ellen called and told me that two of my girls ran away last weekend and still haven't been found. This has never happened before at Open Sky. I felt instant panic and fear, as waking up and finding students gone is up there with all of my worst nightmares, if not the worst professional one. I felt a bit of vindication and relief, as I'd predicted exactly this with those very girls going down when I left last week, and really really really glad I'm not there to manage the aftermath. I feel sorry and concerned for staff going into that mess today at changeover, and for those involved from the get go. I feel a bit perplexed and challenged by the outcome, and my attachment to it--curiosity and my perpetual need to have everything wrapped up and packaged in the end are doing battles in my mind right now. Its feeling hard to be away from the rumor mill in Durango right now, and I am pushing myself to set it aside for later and not get involved.

This coast and the color make me want to write poetry.

Road Trip

I'm feeling a bit intimidated by writing this week. Even sitting on a totally empty Pacific beach, next to the ocean I've so been craving like a drug these past couple of months. I kind of feel like I have nothing to say. Or worse, that I don't have the powers to say the things that need to be said. I know I can already feel my pulse slowing down just sitting here, and my mind quickening with the possibility of all the big and wonderful things in my heart. I love the way my breath sort of subconsciously matches the ebb and flow of waves breaking with the halfway joyful primordial recognition that I have been here before. My next life must have water in it, and more than the misbegotten half memory of past millenia.

Things I am realizing this adventure, again or for the very first time are so many. That I miss adventuring. That I am just a little bit lonely. That I crave intellectual stimulation. That I embarrass far too quickly. That I really miss riding buses and trains and other such sundry things like getting harassed by homeless people on city streets that wreak of piss which reminds me of Russia. That I walk way more than the average person. That I am avoiding my dream of working with refugees abroad by convincing myself that its not feasible. That I am really scared of grad school and in particular going back to the NW because of the chances it will make me again perpetually gloomy and forlorn. That I'm secretly really intrigued by the UW Seattle program combining Peace Corps, Social Work, and International Public Health. That thinking seriously about a career in mental health freaks me out given how much even just Open Sky is affecting me emotionally. That I am still feeling so torn between the parts of me that need to be outdoors like I need air to breath and the ones that need language and culture and conversation. In that sense I'm no further than I was a year ago.

If it comes down to a choice between Seattle and the world or New Hampshire and the wilderness I may just choose complacency and say neither and fuck another hard decision.

The percolating plan--for the sake of calming my fiery mind--work another year for Open Sky, at least another winter and fulfill my commitment. Start applying for Peace Corps, searching for grad schools, applying this winter for fall 2010. Do year one for MSW/MPH (maybe more, depending on MPH application). Start Peace Corps service in South America fall 2011 through 2013. Complete grad school 2015ish with MSW and Master of Public Health. HOLY SHIT I'd be 29. Craziness. That's so intense to even imagine the rest of my life in that manner. It kind of makes me feel better though, even just thinking about those intentions. I want to travel more, but more than that I want to be abroad again in a more meaningful way. I cant in good conscience be a dirt bag till I'm 30, the lack of purpose will begin to make my heart heavy. But I also can't be trapped inside again like I was through much of the last five years. I will suffocate like a bug.

High Country Impressions

Colorado feels a whole lot different than Utah did. None of that creepy undertone, no halfway other presence hiding just around the next juniper tree. Less apprehensive and solemn. I think I'm going to really miss the ruins in the sage. And I'm certain I'm going to miss the sky and the perspective. This base camp feels kind of cramped in that sense, theres no where to see the sky or the mountains.

Highlights of yesterday evening include getting lost trying to find the bearhang (yes, we do that now). I led a decent CAIG, of relatively low virtue, and that was it. It feels weird to be stepping up and straightening out a little, and actually doing stuff in the shadow of no one. Nice.

New Horizons, Maybe.

I suppose this is a good way to start off the shift, awake, done, and chilling out with time to spare this morning. Paul should be here in a few minutes, and in the meantime I'm just trying to slow down my brain a bit and convince my heart that yes, it really and truly will survive this shift. It seems so counter intuitive to be going back, I'm fighting a lot of my fight or flight instincts right now.

I want to set some intentions for the week, as effort to calm my heart and sooth my mind. I intend to use the morning time for myself at least twice this shift, hopefully more. Even if I'm exhausted, and think that sleep would be more beneficial. I will advocate for breaks on some sort of consistent schedule, and for myself when needed. I intend to be gentle with myself this week, and to accept and forgive the emotions that I'm experiencing. This will happen through art, writing, and conversation.

It's 6ish, tonight, and I am potentially lost at the new Colorado base camp. Not lost exactly, I would just be uncertain which direction to run in a hurry if I needed to. Which is a little unnerving. We've been here a total of maybe four hours, and right now the week feels like a long one. I've already managed to trigger two ladies pretty good. It feels heavy here, or they do anyway. Heavy and hard and burdened. Just putting up the group shelter here today took hours, and everything is an argument. Its making me kind of wonder whether I have a week of them in me right now. I feel worm down and on the verge already, mere hours in.

I do this to myself. I do this to myself because I hate shying away form the challenge. Well, I love it, but hate myself for it. I do this today because showing up is infinitely more admirable than conceding. I do this today, with most of the bravery I possess. Because it makes me tired and worn about and even so I know that I showed up and I am making an attempt. I do this to myself today as an act of forgiveness. Because last shift out was terrifying and exhausting and that cannot be the strongest image I have of being out here. And because I must forgive myself for feeling terrified and desperate and overwhelmed. I do this today because I know in some buried corner of my brain that the banal conversations I have tonight with these girls serve some greater good. Because ridiculous tonight may lead to meaningful tomorrow.

I do this to myself because I have a heart capable of holding some burdens bigger than myself. I do this to myself because today and all days I am human. I am human and anything greater or meeker shall be forgiven.

Roll call...

I'm worried today, and embarrassed and awkward and more than a little bit ashamed. I hate that I'm having this conversation again, I kind of hoped that Keven would be the last one. Or Noah, or to some extent Jack. I hate that getting pissed drunk seems to be the only way I can connect physically with a man. At least the sex itself is no longer what makes me feel shameful, it's the drinking. I feel bad that now I may have to go back there and break this boy's heart. And that I didn't really know his name. I feel angry, when I think about how many times I've ended up in this predicament (3? Ok so it seemed like a lot) and how much I end up victimizing myself. I keep sort of wondering what the missing piece is, what I am doing to be attracting the wrong kind of people in the wrong kind of places. Or maybe the right people in the wrong ways. I feel like I'm better than last night. I regret not just having the evening end as a crazy night out with the girls. Now I'm left with way too much drama fodder for my relatively unoccupied brain.

I've been sitting down by the river for a couple hours now just zoning out. I'm kind of dreading heading home a little bit, wondering if he'll be there and I can't just laugh this whole day off as another one night stand. I'm sure the girls will understand, I'm just not sure he will...

The Day, The Meltdown

Last night got real bad real quick. I struggle to even write about it, only because I'd like to keep my head out of the experience. Or keep that judging analyzing part out of it anyway.



What I know is what I experienced. Feeling tired and used up, drained before grad dinner. Talking to Heather briefly about C, her mentioning whether C reminds me of myself. Sitting down to dinner with the girls, feeling awkward and not quite successfully managing to flip the switch and turn back on. Wanting desparately to just sit each girl down and tell them exactly what their problem is, or smack them. Wanting desparately to get up and run far away. Walking up to the top of the parking lot, running into Derek and Addi on the way to the hospital, walking back down toward the meadow, feeling like a wave rising from my stomach that stalled in my throat. Walking across the burm and my vision tunelling and my heart racing. My breath speeding up, and knowing I needed to be on the ground. Lying on the far side of the burm, holding on with my fists in the dirt. Alex calling on the radio, startling me. Picking myself up, heading back towards Cleo, making it as far as the trailhead. Stopping at the bottom, feeling crazed and physically frenetic. Holding on to a juniper with two hands, bowing over heaad down. Climbing into the juniper itself, wedging my butt and torse up into the branches. Starring, overwhelmed, trying to conjure all of the saddest things I could imagine, trying to cry, looking to release some despair, feeling stopped up. Craving some company, willing Heather or anyone to come walking down the trail, then when she did feeling simaltaneously grateful and embarrassed. Talking to me, and tears finally welling up. Not wanting to look at her, feeling ashamed and totally certain. RElenting, walking and talking and loosing track of where I was. Sitting in her truck for awhile, talking and fighting to control my breathing. Another radio call, answring hesitantly, and transparently, hoping desparately to magically hide how upset I was from the timbres of my voice. Feeling selfish. Slowing down fianlly. Being annoited, and trying to talk my way out of the freak out. Hours passing in conversation, then Emily appearing, looking worried. More shame. Swallowing my pride, telling her the abbreviated story while she walked me back up to Cleo. Listening, glazed, as she tried to reassure me, and retaining approximately every third word. "I'd be worried if this DIDNT happen to you"... Alex appearing in his underwear, realizing it was way later than I'd thought. Attempting to play things off, Emily starring me down and keeping me honest. Telling Alex I'd got overwhelmed. Moving my bed off the platform, hoping nobody would realize. Laying down finally by the fire, exhausted, but not sleeping for eons. Watching the stars change color, and the sky brighten. Giving up about daybreak, getting up to stoke the fire, sitting down attempting to meditate, ending up just starring through the flames. The awkward how am I doing questions, knowing the monumental previous night and fine falling far short. Waiting for the question, wanting to be asked secretly, and not wanting the awkard explanation, being horrified and angry when they suggested that I ask to leave the field. MOre shame and embarassment. The girls waking, "Oh, Peggy's back" breaking for the morning. Meditating mostly succesfully by the grad medicine wheel, lying in the sun in shivassena pose, feeling ground again. Wanting to flee, deciding to fess up and ask. Walking back to cleo, falling into breakfast prep, natural., Wondering what I had left in me. Wondering if I could go there for another day, knowing I could suck it up physically though doubting my emotional stamina. Wondering how stoicism serves me, feeling pulled in all directions.

And that was sort of it.

So Over It

I hate tarping students. I hate Mondays at base with therapy and I hate the lethargy I feel looking at the whiteboard with so much to get done. My fantasy lately, has been just lying in my bed for like two days straight watching bad TV on my laptop and eating soup. Not even real food, soup like Progresso from a can. I think I'm rapidly reaching the end of my endurance for working through sick. I'm over it. I'm tired, tarping kids makes me sleep like crap. Particularly C, she totally puts me on edge. We put her on run watch last night after she tried to blow me off while taking her to the bathroom. Sort of an instinct more than anything else. I'm proud of following through on those instincts lately, but today and last night more repulsed by the results.

I feel blah and pissed off. I imagine I feel blah because I'm mentally drained and physically tired, which keeps my emotions from going anywhere thrilling, or very far at all. In the future I hope I can take better care of myself physically so as to more strongly experience whatever comes up emotionally. I imagine I feel pissed off because I sense I'm being manipulated and have my defenses lower than normal for being ill and tired. The particular students that I'm pissed off with or about I can't voice my frustrations to either, which makes it seem bigger and worse than it actually is. In the future I hope that I can use my anger and frustration therapeutically, and better learn to let go when I can't do so.

South Style

I'm feeling frazzled and worn out. We bumped C back up to high suicide watch this afternoon on the way back to base. I'm not even involved directly this time with her, and even I feel manipulated. She seems to enjoy the whole process in some sick sort of way. It seems like shes testing us, saying that we're not taking her safety seriously enough with the modified watch and she was going to hang herself with her shelter cordage last night but she fell asleep first. It's like, "You guys don't love me enough, so I'll just go and kill myself now..." or at least thats how I took it. Pretty tiring at any rate. She seems so wrappedup in being crazy, it's almost become an identity stronger than any others for her. Any divergance, fun of any sort, n o matter how brief takes her away from that sense of self. I guess I'm triggered by the passivity, and a little annoyed to still be playing this game. She's overwhelming.

Other than that I guess its Sunday and I'm making it through. I'm having a hard time putting the work into building rapport with this new crew of kids. I've made some connection or atleast had an extended conversation with almost everyone, which I'm proud of. Staffing dynamics have been the biggest challenge for me this week, even more than just feeling physically shitty. Alex and me aren't clashing, but we are definitly not clicking, and I'm finding that hard to sit with. Chris I'm just intimidated by and want so badly to please it's tremendously off-putting. And Torrey just hasn't been around. I miss Kara's south energy a lot...

Face-off

Lurking just downwind should not be considered a break by any means, in any form. I'm physically dragging though emotionally and spiritually buoyed. We made it up to Cougar's Crossing this afternoon in great form. I'm proud and excited to have survived my first real sitter stare-down, and had a big part in ending the stale mate. Jo got pretty close to breaking on the haul up from Old Base Camp, and threw a hissy fit at Alex. She was still on directions after a talk we had at lunch where she told me she didn't care if she rejoined the group or not and didn't give a shit what any of the girls thought and anytime she looked like she did it was all fake. And a lot of crying. I want to believe I made a connection in that moment, I figure at the very least it seemed to be authentic her, but I don't really trust that tie. She strikes me as somebody who uses people for the sake of not being used first. At any rate, after blowing up at Alex and refusing to move halfway up this pretty epic climb, when I went down and talked to her she got up. I don't know if I was the magic or not, but I was expecting to get a great big fuck you and anything more was just bonus. I'm always petrified of those decision moments when I call a student's bluff, and am constantly amazed when they don't challenge me. If I were them, I'd challenge me, and push me hard.

It's been a strange balance of weird dynamics so far this shift. Definitely different with just me and Alex, for the most part. I'm having a hard time both being supportive of him and taking more initiative for myself. There seems to be a big disconnect between those two intentions that I wasn't expecting, which kind of rattles me. I think he has a hard time stepping back and letting go of control even just a little bit. When I have taken steps to assert myself and show some confidence, he always seems to show up or step in somehow. I feel like he doesn't trust me, and that's irking me a lot. And then he mentions feeling tense around me, which I actually was pretty surprised and taken aback by. We tried to discuss it this morning, awkwardly, but just sort of talked each other into a knot. Now I sense just some simmering weirdness which I don't deserve, and don't know what to do with. I want to know as part of a team that I can be depended on just as much as I lean on others, and not sensing that makes me feel anxious, defensive, uncertain, and just a little invalidated. (There it is again, that never feeling good enough)

Should be another awkward feedback session in the morning. I'm happy the weather has shifted, we have no one on directions, we're headed back to base tomorrow, we get four staff back tonight, and can take real breaks. It's Saturday almost over the hump, I have a cold and am not totally psychosomatically ill. The sun is setting on mostly clear skies, and the next two days should be pretty mellow.

Famous last words.

My body is feeling full in the head and my nose is chapped raw. My mind is sleeping, my heart is uncertain, restrained, and ambitious. Like I've got a lot to prove. My soul is observing.

Here's Hoping...

Breaking, sort of, another evening at the Gallery. Alex and me plus five angry females went on a bit of a challenge day hike today, and now the wind kicked back up and he put of of the ladies on directions for sharing food. They know better, and I kind of just want to smack 'em. Two staff, one on safety watch, and two on directions is kind of an unnecessary lot. So I'm hiding in the juniper next to the kitchen eating chocolate and wishing it was more than Friday. I think I made myself sick again, unwittingly, from stress about the move and exhaustion after four shifts in. The last two days have been super foggy for me, and headachey and nausea and lightheadedness and vertigo. I'm not totally convinced its all mental, but at any rate no fun and no good for the job. I'm tired and two more shifts before a break right now seems pretty insurmountable.

Here's hoping the wind shifts and the weather breaks so the next six days are sunny and warm as promised...

The Truth, Take One

I'm angry, like proverbially, and I don't know why and where from. I'm angry with my parents for showing me that thoughts trump feelings and the only way to be is calm and collected and in control. I'm angry that my Dad told me he doesn't believe in unconditional love. I'm angry with Noah for sleeping with me even though he knew that I was piss drunk. I'm angry with my brothers and sisters for screwing up and leaving me to be the good child and the successful one in the traditional sense. I'm angry that no one listened to me when I told them I was sick and didn't want to be alive. I'm angry that I've forgotten how to write with soul. I'm angry that my mother allowed me to parent her, and made so many excuses for Dad's rage. I'm angry that he has always been so volatile, and that I see so much of myself in him. I'm angry that I can't forgive my family. I'm angry that I've made myself invisible. I'm angry with Jack for using me, and Chris for not having enough guts to love me. I'm angry with Dad for getting sick, and for telling me I had to get published and find love before he dies. I'm angry about not being trusted and not trusting myself. I'm angry that I've been an adult since grade school, and now don't know how to get loose without drugs and alcohol. I'm angry that I've chased color from my life. I'm angry that I'm so afraid, so perpetually. I'm angry at all the people who look past me unless there is something to gain from me. I'm angry that I'm so refined that I can't cry, can't drum, can't write, can't scream with wild abandon. I'm angry that there is never good enough. I'm angry that somewhere somebody told me I was fat and ugly and I believed them. I'm angry that my life is in pieces, dichotomized, and right now I miss the smart cosmopolitan parts. I'm angry that I don't know how to be nice to myself. I'm angry that I can't say no, and my boundaries are weak and easily circumvented. I'm angry that I am so often afraid.



I'm scared so much of my day that I think I've learned to ignore what it feels like. I'm scared I won't find love. I'm scared I will be found out as a fraud. I'm scared that I don't deserve to be here. I'm scared to be abandoned, and that I won't find the connections that I crave. I'm scared of the next adventure. I'm scared that I won't have enough, financially, physically, spiritually, emotionally. I'm scared of the blank page. I'm scared of not knowing, of not being able to make everything make sense. I'm scared of not having a plan or six. I'm scared when I camp by myself. I'm scared of falling short, of having nothing to say, of doing the wrong thing. I'm scared of forgetting, languages, experiences, past lives. I'm scared of displeasing. I'm scared of settling. I'm scared of being overwhelmed. I'm scared to death that one day I will wake up in the morning and not want to be alive again, and that I won't realize what has happened. I'm scared that I am not strong enough to keep myself well. I'm scared that my brother will drink himself to death before I ever really know him. I'm scared of open space that can't be filled. I'm scared of confrontation. I'm scared when I think about what will happen after Open Sky. I'm scared of limbo, being stuck and in between. I'm scared of loosing control. I'm scared of the things I can't just explain away. I'm scared to give feedback. I'm scared to show people how I feel. I'm scared to tell others that I love them, scared to get burned. I'm scared that if I don't learn I'll never get what I want.



I want wild abandon. I want color and fire and passion and boundlessness. I want adventure, and I want fearlessness. I want sunshine, and I want to be outside. I want to be part of community, I want to know where I belong and that I am part of something. I want handwritten letters and long train rides. I want to know that I am loved and that I am enough. I want to love myself and believe it. I want to be comfortable being compassionate, more than being fair and just. I want to look beyond the book. I want to know what my greater good is, and how how to ask for it. I want to wake up in the morning and be grateful. I want a love that is nurturing and genuine and challenging and comfortable and open and that I don't question. I want to be grounded, to own myself, and to know that I am doing good work for the world. I want thinner walls, so that I learn to not take everything so personally, and so that I feel safe and secure. I want to feel at home, no questions. I want to allow myself to dance, to yell, to make music that no one has ever heard before. I want to be barefoot. I want to know who I need, and who to let go of. I want to skip the head more often, and go straight to the heart. I want to grow my own food. I want to travel more, and learn from the cells outwards. I want to know that I am using myself to my utmost capacity. I want less apathy, and more excitement. I want to terrify myself so I know that I am doing the right thing. I want a plan. I want to fly by the seat of my pants. I want a dog. I want right now to be enough. I want a story to occupy me. I want to play more music unabashedly. I want better posture. I want to be giddy and ridiculous. I want to not worry about money. I want to find a way to travel, to live abroad again while making money. I want game. I want to not want. I want the stone between my heart and head to go away. I want to reach out, and have my challenge returned. I want to be inspired and inspiring. I want to embrace the next big adventure. I want to not be afraid anymore.

At Home Where There Are No Houses?

Apparently its that time of year again where things are opening and closing in all directions. So strange that winter has passed, yet the freak snowstorms seem to continue biting me in the ass. Even stranger that I graduated from college eleven months ago. I'll be in Portland almost one year to the date. The time of year where I get restless and reckless and overdramatic, rather habitually.

Currently wrapped in housing drama, as per usual. I am totally torn philosophically, at this point over even finding my next place or not. Paul put the seed well I should say watered the seed already in my own head of just saying fuck it and committing to full time vagabondery for the summer. I'm frustrated with the process of selling myself to potential home-mates, don't like the place I'm seeing, and can't afford the places I covet. Between May 1 and July 1 I only anticipate sleeping in town for about 14 days, as opposed to the usual 15 nights per month.

I am intrigued and repulsed simaltaneously by the idea of elective homelessness. I'm intrigued by the adventure of it, physically. I often feel loss and let down after coming home from the field and moving indoors. I feel that emotionally more than physically I think, way less grounded, motivated, and purposeful. I have this fantasy about the adventure of it, waking up in my tent someplace beautiful, being forced into all the ideal parts about work without the stress of it. Reading and writing and doing art and being free and rooted all at the same time. The reality I'm sure is far from it. I'm attracted to saving money, $40 a month for storage versus $400 something for rent. I have this theory that not having a room to come home to might encourage me to expand and engage my support systems, and to seek out the people/places/things/attitudes I want as part of my life. Towards my own greater good. I'm attracted to simplifying, at least for a little while, and living out more of my wanderlust instincts.

I'm not sure yet how much of this freaking me out is new and wise terror, and how much is my usual fear of the unknown and new trying to strangle those outer impulses. I know I am very attached to having my own space, some niche somewhere that is mine to return to. I know this helps keep me grounded and relaxed. I know that depending on other people makes me uncomfortable, and that I put a lot of stock in being in control. I know that my brief stint homeless in the fall stressed me out a lot. I know that most of my off shift life lately revolves around baking, napping, watching too much tv, hiding, doing too much internet, and other such associated vegging out. These are all things that would be challenging without a home base.

The part I can't place in a particular column is how different I am since October. I'm scared of doing all of this and committing to the gypsy life because couch surfing in October was really hard for me. I'm grateful for the lessons I learned and the people I met, particularly the ones about trusting that the universe is well intentioned and puts me where I am meant to end up. The thing is, I am so much more grounded than I was in October. I know people in town now that I can fall back on, instead of trusting in the goodness of strangers. Work is so much less overwhelming than it was in the beginning. I wanted to write less crazy, not the case. I just handle the crazy better. The weather even would be more easy going. I'm scared though, because even so I don't know if I can do it, emotionally and spiritually...

The One You Write Home About

Tuesday afternoon and I am feeling drained after saying goodbye to our three grads and their families. The ladies just left to meet Norman for a bonus meditation session, and though I'd really love to go sit for a while I'm aware that I am at that precipice point of no return for not quite needing a break but not having enough energy to be solid for another 24 hours. Tuesdays are a tease, without a lot to do and it still feels like we should be outgoing instead of heading out on expedition again. I am doing better staying engaged and in tuned and engaging, but definitly stretched at this point.

Grad was intense. I always want to be the one they write home about, the one that was both memorable and to be missed. To get that in the face from three separate families was powerful and really special to watch. I really appreciated having that piece of closure for my own sake, validation and continuing inspiration. Watching them with their families was like the final payoff of how many months of hard work. The three of them were all so happy, it made me sad or them to think about how hard life gets once they leave here and have to fend for themselves without us asking incessantly how they are feeling. Sad and excited and curious and so very hopeful. I'll truely miss Trace for her smile and perpetual goofiness, Nadine for her optimism and convictions and bravery, and Orange for her laughter. It will be a truely different group now in so many ways.

I am feeling antsy and lethargic in my body. My right temple is starting to tinge, and the inside of my thighs have rubbed raw. My mind feels like its clenched tight, like a face looking into bright sunlight. My heart is stressed out, and wound up. My heart is filling up towards my throat. My heart feels uncertain and warm and open, all at the same time. My soul is angry and ambivalent.

Empathetically Insecure

All I've wanted for the last few days was the moment to sit and write for a while. That, and a break in the rain/wind/snow. and now I have both, and I can think of little consequential to say.

The biggest thing coming up for me this week so far is how much not being in the know annoys me. I mean, or I gues currently I mean when the staff team staffs up without me. Its not even the not knowing whats going on that bugs me the most, but not being included. It makes me feel insecure, and unworthy and stupid. It brings up feeling unwanted and not trusted and undesirable and overlooked. I had brought this feedback to Alex last shift and mentioned it to Kara as well, so I challenged myself this week not to bring it up. Not to flip out hen I dont know whats going on or what the plan is, to make a more visible effort just to rool with it as I go. Sort of as a challenge to see if I could do so, not ask a bunch of questions for the sake of including myself. And to challenge myself just to be uncomfortable and feel all of those things.

No snow this morning, but frigid. Colder than I've experienced out here for a couple of months. I am wearing all of my layers and then some. I slept in everything for the first time since early January, and was pleasantly warm all night. To think it was 75 degrees last shift, and I debated retiring my deep winter sleeping bag for the season...

Solos ending this afternoon makes me a bit anxious. Mostly because I'm tired and thinking about kicking back into gear makes me more tired. Those transports on the way into work really sapped my energy. I'm sitting here watching the surise wishing I had a cup of coffee to warm my hands and my heart.

The other big field emotional thing that keeps coming up for me out here lately is how much the helpless almost entitled ones seem to get under my skin. I'm trying to figure out why. I find it exasperating, particularly when they've been here a while already and are privy to a lot of our tricks of the trade, yet still aren't doing for themselves and freak out unless others are taking care of them for them. Jo is a great example, or atleast the most current. I have a hard time showing empathy when shes not using the tools we've given her to be succesful and take care of herself, and is still suffering. I'm having a hard time connecting into why she is that way psychologically and experientially, where her basic goodness lies. I think I am such an independent person, and have always been expected to take care of myself and the people around me, --all those kids who have never had to do something hard, never had to do something for themselves just piss me off on a personal level. A little bit of jealousy and far too much self-righteousness. Where I should be compassionate I am instead frusterated and angry. I never had a chance or an opportunity to be whiney and demanding and taken care of, and I guess atleast on some level I resent her for that. I need to remember that a lot of her that frusterates me are the same patterns coming through. Helpless is anting attention, medically manifesting emotions is in someways the same. Wanting attention and not knowing the right ways to get what she wants. IT fits the whole messy divorce, super immaturity, boy crazy physicality part too. Patterns like throwing hissy fits and refusing and trying to charm her way through things that aren't working so well here any more. I'm sort of using her to practice my goal of showing more compassion this week. I've done it a lot before too, once I know I'm being triggered by a student I often redouble my efforts to work with them, just to get through it and proove to myself almost counter suggestively that I can find that connection and be somewhat productive, even when I'm uncomfortable. I did it with Cris, never got there with Sam, did it with A, and now Jo. On the hike in to White Rock she freaked out panicked again, like she did all last shift. At one point I got down next to her as she's doubled over crying and couched her through one of Norman's breathing excercises, and still managed to find that boundary line of "yes, OK, now we have to keep moving." Then again his morning, I was checking her feet on the first solo round. THey were legit cold, so I put them on my belly for awhile. I think usually I would just have got frusterated before and scoffed. I'm curious to see what afefct showing more compassion audibly and physically has.

It's late afternoon now, and I am shitting on top of White Rock looking out on mountains in all directions and just feeling so very blessed in this moment that being out here is my job and my life. I had good talks with Nadine and Andi this afternoon after pulling everyone off solos, and the sun finally came out. I got space this morning and this time now, and am feeling way more grounded than these past couple of days. I am liking the balance of the last few shifts out, where I can both totally loose myself and forget what day it is, and also be excited to go home and do good things. I feel good about my week when I can hit Sunday or Monday and not be strung out frenetic exhausted. Working with Marie adn Kara has been fabulous. The high point that I'll remember for awhile was our food party last night once we finally put Cate out on a modified solo and had the kitchen to ourselves. I introduced the both of them to peanut butter chocolate torts. The peanut butter was super runny and dripped from both ends like crazy and for awhile the three of us were eating the same tort at the same time and laughing so hard it hurt.

I'm still working on the part about how I show my compassion out here question. I haven't come up with any great easy answers. I know I am compassionate when I can empathize genuinely with a student when they are acting a certain way and keep myself in check. I am compassionate when I can touch into my emotions and respond, instead of react. When I can balance the behavior with the old pattern and intent--see past what to the probable why, without getting my personal stuff to cloud the picture.

A work in progress, I am.

Monday Again

Monday again, and I'm wondering what I have to show for it. I'm learning that for me to feel recharged by the time I head back to work its not enough just to not do stressful things. I have to also do be proactive about doing relaxing things. Last off shift was such a binge of self-care happy fun time though, I think anything smaller just pales in comparison. I have baked a lot, and slept a crap-ton, but mostly I've just procratinated and watched a lot of bad TV. I am stressing preemptively about moving again, in less than a month, which seemed like a long time until I factored in the whole work week schedule thing. So in theory I am moving in about twelve days.

I'm wondering about underscoring my feminine this coming week, how to do so, and what it would look like. Not feminine in the fro-frou frilly sense, but more in the extra compassionate softer sense. The part that can love 'em up without feeling guilty, that can hold boundaries compassionately, as Alex likes to say. I'm trying to figure out how I show compassion, how I can demonstrate that softer side.

Villian-ess

I don't think I like being the new supervillian. It's bringing up a lot of my need and perpetual desire to be liked and for there not to be tension. And my propensity for conflict avoidance like hardcore. I want to just immediatly go and do whatever I can and whatever I need to so that Trace and Karla aren't pissed at me. It makes me second guess my choices and my actions, like maybe they're on to something, like I have wronged them by challenging them, though I know thats the insecurities talking. I need to just sit with being uncomfortable, sit with knowing their is tension and conflict without running to make it all go away.

The last night in the field, and even with everything thats gone down, I'm feeling pretty good. Capable, confident, calm even. New home girl got delayed (slash went pyscho in Denver and wasn't permitted past security in the airport) so we are suddenly shooting to move again in the morning, and meet her halfway through the day. Hopefully at Cheer Up already, even. I'm tired, but not almost dysfunctional wasted tired. I'm excited to be headed home tommorow, but not completely possessed by the thought or weighed down by the process of getting from here to there. I feel more in control over my emotions and responses than I have in the field in the past, which is remarkable given what day it is. I feel rejuvenated and excited too, about the prospects of building a working relationship with Emily D, after a couple of quick chats in the last few days. She saw me in top form today, both working with Andi in a joint session, and then taking and reflecting feedback from students and doing art in a group. I'm looking forward to meeting with her to finally finish my pathway stuff on Thursday, instead of dreading it.

It occured to me yesteday at somepoint, how rarely I feel truely calm and serene. It amazes me sometimes how much of my life is/has been run around being anxious and not realizing. It is hard for me even to pin down the physical feeling attached to calm, foreign enough that I have to think hard to match body to heart. I feel sad and a little bit disappointed and regrettful thinking about how much time and good energy I devoted to feeling frenetic and unbalanced, how much my anxieties and insecurities painted so many potentially meaningful scenes. And curious to see if I can call up some inner stillness in the future, on shift and off. Or how to do so, I suppose, more than anything.

So Much Drama

Shortly, because it's late and I am suddenly drained. Karla took of this evening, right about when I got back from break. My heart and head are still spinning. Alex and I chased her, sort of, 'till Heather and Chris the FM showed up. I feel scattered and shaken and anxious. Nervous and uncertain about how to approach her now. Like I failed somehow. My body and heart feel heavy. Anxiety is creeping in to take the place of this evening's adrenaline rush. And we've got a new homegirl coming in late tommorow night on a high suicide watch...

Bohdi is drumming late into the evening, and I kind of wonder whether they have this much drama...

Light on the Outside, Still on the Inside

They tell me springtime in the desert means wind like crazy. Right now the air is so thick with dust and sand that the blue sky above has taken on a grey brown haze like a curtain two miles out. It is warm but the incessent bowling breeze tricks me into thinking its month colder than it wants to be.



It's been a stupid giddy couple of days, in the best possible way. I'm sitting in the sunshine outside of the staff tent drinking hot chocolate. I feel warm and accomplished in one of those moods where I could sit and stare and sip my tea for hours on end and feel entirely content. My body is feeling stretched and worn out. My upper back is tight, and my face is hot. I feel like I've been slouching for too many days ina row, probably the case. My mind is slowing, not nearly so frenetic as the past couple of days. My heart is opening and so very content to be knee deep in this experience. I feel accomplished in my heart and proud of the work I've done this week, and the work I've helped to facilitate. My heart feels endless and boundless and infinitely wise. My soul feels present, like some sort of flamboyant parrot just chilling on my shoulder, taking it all in stride.



I can hear Avatar rocking out on the wind, and bits and pieces of so many conversations floating from so many directions. I feel so happy and proud to be a part of this crazy scene right now, and so committed to making the small and crucial inroads in so many lives. This is what its about for me, even when the weather is shitty and I'm exhausted and somebody is screaming about hating me and wanting to die. I will one day hear the flapping of prayer flags, so many layers of them, in my dreams. I will step beyond my insecurities and anxiety and know without question that I am good and this work is good and that I can connect to the small flame of goodness in all of us without getting lost in my head or my shortcomings.



I'm proud of myself so far this week for so much. I've brought a lot of light energy, of fun ridiculousness without going overboard and without getting angry and frusterated first. I'm proud of myself for bringing concerns to Alex appropriately, not just convincing myself that they were invalid and just a matter of me being uncomfortable and insecure. I'm proud I didn't stuff it in and let my frusterations fester before getting angry enough to snap. I'm proud of the work I did both with Andi and Karla this week. I'm really happy that I didn't get intimidated by Karla's isolation or moods or vocalizing her desires to hurt herself. I'm so stoked to have actually stuck to my goal of listening more than speaking, and to have seen it pay off big time with the both of them. I'm proud that I trusted the program this week, shut my mouth, and did my best to stay out of it. Low and behold, every time I had some burning desire to say something or contribute something and decided to sit with it for a while longer, some student managed to come forward and make the point way better and more impactful than I ever could have.

My two biggest goals for the week were to be light on the outside and still on the inside, and to make art. I think I've done a pretty good job with both so far. Light and still look like calm and playful and fun externally, while remaining grounded, balanced, focused, and serene I guess internally. I haven't really gone to that frenetic angsty place yet this shift, it's been nice and way more relaxing. And more fun. The ridiculousness with out all the work in between I guess. Mandatory happy funtime, and Kara being her fabulous self really helped too. As did art, and the perpetual fear of coming off shift feeling as emotionally worked as I did last week. That and my crayons. I think they did the girls more good than me, which is totally fine. I am finding the drawing and coloring sort of calming. More than calming, I am appreciating the release, and the different sort of processing required to put shape and color to feelings. More, "What would this look like," rather than "what would this mean?". So much less taxing.

Brink

Cottonwoods are creepy. The long end to a very long day and I am trying to fathom the back hike about tho happen to get out of this canyon and find water. My body hurts, my knees are throbbing. My mind is racing and so far past impatient the word seems far from adequate. My heart is impatient and close to the surface. I feel that in my body like bile rising quickly in my throat, a tightness in my chest, the tea pot close to boiling over. My soul is antsy and refusing to settle into my body.

I think secretely I enjoy the falling close to the brink, freaking out a wee bit then drawing back from the precipice. I particularly enjoy in a sick kind of way getting super frusterated and pissed off, then tipping over into that magical realm of ridiculousness and pure giddy abandon. Like tonight, when faced with no choice but the reality that I had to rally somehow, adrenaline I guess kicked in with the exhaustion. I got wicked silly, and things were somehow OK again. I'm grateful for that last unseen and unexpected pool of energy and the good mood adrenaline and endorphins managed to smack me into.

Union

I finally felt that glimpse of union this morning, the spontaneous rising and exhalation doing yoga at sunrise. Like my uprised palm could actually pull in some of the energy peeking over the eastern horizon. And my quaking muscles some how called out for all the awareness and intention and courage that I've been craving. I am so on when I step paying attention and start just listening, being. And yet the pause required, that intermediate breath required to wipe clean the state also raises all my walls of inadquacy and insecuirty. I want big broad unafraid sweeps of color and fire and torrents of words to pour forth, and instead I am mired in tepid streams and strains of muted blues and golds, which creep around corners eyes first.

I seem to be holding my breath.

Thundersnow, Again.

It thunder-snowed for a while on us this morning, while coming down from Shangri La. In the moment it kind of pissed me off, with a deep sort of foreboding. We were lost, sort of, one canyon up from where we expected to be. I was feeling pretty rundown, and failing miserably at engaging the new girl, Karla, in any sort of conversation. But in retrospect, thunder snow is...awesome and humbling and really kind of epic.

I'm feeling almost lonely tonight. Closer to homesick than lonely, I don't quite yet have a good word for it. I can feel almost physically my insecurities sneaking back into regular conversation, triggered in part by watching Alex and Kara staff up together without me a couple of times. I'm sure all kind of innocuously, but it always just freaks me out a little bit, like they are talking about me oh my god they must not trust me they don't respect me I'm doing a poor job. I acknowledge the absurdity of the thought process, and am at least acting out less in response to it. Feedback days always put me a little on edge to begin with, and particularly today the slow realization that this is day 8 for me, with another three left to go puts me more vulnerable to down talking myself than normal, or than I'd like to be.

Good lord I am going to have to pee like crazy shortly. I just made a thermos full of hot chocolate (and some cappuccino powder mixed in...fuck) that while exceptionally calming I have a sickening suspicion might keep me up for a while. I've been sleeping really well this shift, like often entirely through the night instead of waking up every coupe of hours. Its been a really nice change of pace, and I'm sure no small part of why I have been so positive and had so much energy lately, compared to past shifts.

It's frosting. It feels like forever since its been cold enough to frost out here. Utah in the springtime is officially weird. We go from warm enough for lizards and tee shirts to snow and frost in like a day and a half. Awesome.

I had an interesting conversation with Nadine this afternoon. I kind of wasn't banking on it actually going anywhere, given here propensity to brush things off. Then suddenly later on when we were doing dinner and an intro group for Karla, she described her challenges here as building a better relationship with herself, so she can have better relationships with others. It was sort of a sha bam kind of moment, either that or she was just parroting what she thinks I want to hear...I had asked her straight up what she's doing here, after reading her 2 page paper thing about when she was at her best all around how her life was on the up before she came here and being here is a big miscommunication with her parents. Getting along with others and being way hard on everyone and herself was sort of the answer we came to, but I didn't expect to hear it from her mouth so openly. It was a cool moment for me, to feel like a one-on-one actually went somewhere useful.

Tonight my body feels hunched and bent. My left foot is asleep and I'm finally starting to feel the chill in my legs and across the back of my neck. My tongue is leathery and burned. My neck and upper back are tight. My mind is antsy and quick, going in no particular direction. My hear is heavy tired, not heavy sad. My heart is longing and confused what for. My heart is tranquil a bit, and already a bit anxious about whatever is coming next. My soul feels a bit placid, hanging out on the edges just taking it all in.

Hapy Clam Sesh

Breaking tonight after a particularly draining day from Little Easy up to Shangri La, where Cleopatra is again pioneering, the first Open Sky kids to every grace this patch of crypto. It was a head draining experience to be walking sweep all day behind Andi and Trace bitching incessantly about damn near everything. They started to really drag me down after a while, then all of a sudden I'm like hey wait a minute--I've got centering skills too.

The crazy thing was where my head then went. I tried just blocking them out for awhile. Then I tried imagining calming things, like the ebb and flow of the ocean. Then I just started imagining things that made me giggle, that's when things really got interesting.I think the first thing that flashed through my mind was Dad dancing like an elephant. The next thing unfortunately was Jack, just pissed me off more for awhile. Then I settled on Charlie doing his happy clam thing for a while, which got me up most of the last side canyon (there were several). Then we hit the road for a couple more burly uphills, and thankfully I got some of the ladies singing ridiculously, and we were almost good.

Then we actually made camp on top at Shangri La, and the simmering tension finally came to boil in an actually awesome and fairly appropriate kind of way. Christy laid it all out there straight up and just asked to the group why they're all negative towards Alex. We finally had an open and relatively honest conversation and I was stoked. I couldn't have staged it better if I tried, and I've been plotting for days how to facilitate the discussion. I love it and rarely trust wilderness to work, and when it does in such a vivid and straight forward way its really exiciting for me.

The one thing I said today that I'd really like to take back was from our discussion actually. I said that if you can't say whats on your mind in this safe space here where we are paid to listen to you, how on earth are you ever going to do so in the real world. I wish I hadn't said the part about being paid to listen, true or not. It came of I think as excessively callous, and was pretty unnecessary. I wish I hadn't got into it at all today with Trace either. I hadn't realized how basically oppositional she can be, and that she was in a foul mood to begin with. Every little thing I asked of her was than a huge struggle, and I got wrapped up in wanting the last world before I realized what was going on.

I'm really proud of myself today for not getting bogged down in a bad mood, still feeling sick-ish, and generally low energy. It was really cool to see Olivia get excited about leading a hike and to actually hear her voice for really the first time. And to see Christy stick her neck out and start calling people out on their shit. Even Nadine I sense is getting down near scraping bottom, and to see her have to draw on reserves she didn't know she had was sort of the perfect end to a rough afternoon. I'm proud that I didn't let the negative energy totally take control, and managed to rise above.

My body is cold, my upper back is sore, and my stomach feels a little queasy. My big toes hurt from the cold and not yet fresh dry socks. All the scrapes on my hands and fingers sting a little, and my chest is heavy from coughing. My mind is calm. My heart feels excited and tired and a bit giddy. My soul feels a bit distant. Not quite absent, just far from grounded in my body.

Ghosts

I can't get over how weird it is to be seeing my own footprints in the sand. I'm off this morning, sitting into the wind and remembering all the ghosts of students gone before at this site. And remembering me before at this site, which is almost as weird. I'm leading that same hike down to Little Easy in a bit, which was my first hike I lead on my first expedition in October. The one where I fell of the end of the point, and where we ended up in that sweet side canyon that looked like Seaworld. So bizzare.

I'm trying to check in with myself and not getting very far. My body is cold, particularly my big toes. My face is still tingling from the GABA. My mouth tastes like paper from all the snot dripping down my throat. The tops of the insides of my thighs feel raw. My quadriceps are tight and a little sore. I'm hungry. My mind is moving slowly and also quite quickly. My mind is moving slowly but my heart is apprehensive about leading this hike again, and trying to tell my mind to move quickly. My heart is also feeling excited to be getting to know new people, and to see three students transition today. And curious to watch how the girls continue to develop and work with each other and a new student through the rest of the week. My soul is feeling a lot of gratitude for this beautiful place in which we find ourselves, looking out over the canyons and mesas and mountains still snow-capped.

Breakfast time. Man I need to meditate. Or take a nap. But probably meditate...

Medicine

I got a bit of my own medicine today, it was kind of perfect actually. A bunch of the girls had been hardcore bad triangulating about my staff team Monday night, before the new staff showed up. They had some pretty strong words and feedback, which they refuse to share. Then all day long everything we do, they have some little snide comment directed passively towards us. It was really hard to watch. It made me feel stuck in the middle, awkward and uncomfortable, just like me trash talking other folk does for all who have to listen to me. It sucked.

Back bivying at Avatar Point tonight, trying to stay out of the wind. Headed maybe to Little Easy tomorrow down in Squaw, but we'll see. We have a new girl suddenly on Saturday, so the whole plan will probably change. I made Nadine cry this morning, while she was telling me about her boyfriend beating the shit out of her regularly. It was a pretty intense conversation...in the best kind of way.

Last Page

Today and the ending of this book feel like the start of another season. There is green where I haven't seen green in a while, and red and blue and gold. I feel the turning of the circle this morning, and very much the return of light. It seems just a little awkward to be so grounded in this present out here after putting on such a shitshow back in Durango for the last couple of weeks. I'm a bit apprehensive about encountering Ellen and Emily out here in a few days after the performance I put on for them this week. All I can say is I'm human and I'm trying and I do almost as much work out here as my students do. I think thats always my greatest asset out here--my ability to learn from my experience and move forward.

This has been such a monolythic and memorable five months of my life it almost seems a bit absurd to try and pull it closed in half an arbitrary page. I remember driving in and seeing the tips of the Rockies for the very first time from halfway across Kansas. I remember being homeless and my first Durango snowfall. I remember the aspens changing, carpooling, and the hot desert breath on the back of my neck. I remember holidays celebrated far from home but far more soulfully than many I've experienced in quite a while. I remember hope and disappointment and almost heartbreak. I remember breaking through with Cris, goofing off with Marie, having that first conversation with Sara off Avatar point, watching Amy come around on that beautiful hellish nighthike to the Big Easy under the almost full moon. I will remember sparing with Kate, being struck dumb by the strength of Vanessa's will and laughing with this new crew. I will remember the sunsets in mid-winter, the panic darkness brings, and the joy of the almost unexpected sunrise the next morning. To the next sunrise, sunset, and blank page that awaits.

The Ice Flow

Five out of six girls got aftercare news today. My heart kind of breaks for them. I can't at all imagine the sinking reality of being sent away for additional years at a time. I go back and forth a lot out here about the necessity of what we're endeavoring to do--like if these parents had stood up in their kids lives and set good boundaries would they still have ended up here? These kids have been failed by so many people and things, even their own biology oftentimes...It becomes an almost chicken and egg scenario. Were they destructive before the world seemed to turn against them, or did they become that way once things got rough on them? A lot of these girls have lived way too much life for their age, then they get sent here and its like falling through ice into water. We work them back to the surface during their time here, back from the depths. Getting sent to aftercare is like then getting stuck on the ice flow, moving out to sea, you're still on the surface but marooned and drifting in a whole new universe. I believe in this work so strongly that sometimes it can be hard to relinquish any hand in the journey, and fairly excruciating to remember there are so many other players in the decisions besides from simply the wellness and well being of the student.

Magic, and Various Stages of Disarray

Its been a pretty solid day today, all around. The most magical two things that happened have to be me not getting cramps and staring my period for the first time in like forever. That, and busting my second ever fire tonight. Magic, I tell you, magic. Runner up would be packing up on time, its like this is all my job or something.

This is again such a very very different group. They are very much more ebullient than the last crew, and sort of snappish. They are quick to talk and easy to listen to. They are all in all quite funny. They are cliquish and sort of impulsive. They are engaging, and in various stages of Open Sky disarray. The energy of the group is slowly beginning to shift towards springtime energy, just like the weather.

Communication has been mostly OK so far this week. I think I've been pretty on top of it so far, and pretty vigilant about only speaking positively of people. I did two short one on ones today, and did way less talking than i have in the past. It helped to pick the two students who love most to talk...All in all a good start though I'd say. The times I have been a bit more harsh then I intended I've owned and apologized pretty quickly.

I feel different here this time out. I feel lighter, and less burdened. I feel stronger in a lot of ways. I'm excited for more than a whole extra week of face time ahead of me.

I can't believe it is March. How on earth did that happen?

Dreams of Africa

In some ways it feels so easy to be back at work, free floating through the nascent baby stages of desert springtime. It got cloudy a little while ago, but otherwise I've been sailing all day through a mythic blue day that made me think of Africa. The snow is mostly gone, except for here and there patches and in between glimpses of high peaks. In some ways easy and in others tedious and picky, because I want so bad to do it well and redeem myself from that pesky little disciplinary paper presently lying in my file reminding me to slow down and think before I speak.

I feel ridiculous taking a break my first night in the field mid-shift. But at the same time if I'm ever going to learn one of my many lessons out here I have to start being proactive and helping myself before things get bad. So thus I am hiding out for the moment at Old Base Camp wondering what the next ten days have up their sleeves.

I'm trying to decide whether or not I'm intimidated facing another almost double shift. I'm edging towards no to be honest but maybe shying away from judgement. The last double worked me so intensely I try not to think about it. But I feel like I'm in such a different headspace now, that comparison is only just barely valid. I guess I hadn't really realized how much the shambles of my love life had really affected me. Work definitely sits a lot more lightely now than it did two months ago. Thats for sure.

For this shift, well this week anyway, I'm looking for clear goals still. I'd like to settle in again, really, to a routine both personal and professional. I'd like to do more listening to talking. I'd like to seek out each girl for their own sake and begin to build rapport individually. I'd really like to have a good handle on my communication this week, though I'm not quite sure how that might look. Hopefully not talking about other people, and owning and appologizing when I do. I want to bust at least one fire, and failing that I want to put in a good and regular effort in trying.

I guess I'm more tired than it seemed, dozing off in my crazy creek like this...

Ain'ta That Good News

The good news is I'm angry. While I can't and don't entirely absolve myself from what happened, I'm pissed off by how I've been treated. I'm sad that this is how it worked out, and genuinely thought it'd be different between us. I'm a little scared to be going back to work in the middle (end?) of all this knowing how gossipy and insular our workplace can be. I'm frustrated by my thing social network in this town, how everyone I'm close to is in some way connected back to Open Sky. Its coming off as a bit incestuous, and I don't know who I can trust who isn't somehow also involved in his side of things. Not like there are sides, there aren't. I have very limited desires to trash talk him, but it would be nice to be able to talk openly and not wonder how I'm being judged or where my words will be passed on to. I need some girlfriends in this state, who I can whine too, and some friend-boys who will kiss it and make it better and tell me they'll take care of the problem. I need friends who will take me out drinking when something like this happens again.

The more I think about everything that happened between us the more skeezed out I get. For starters, I find it incredibly strange that he would tell me about getting accused with raping a girl and having to leave school for a year to let things blow over. Tell me at all, much less tell me while trying to get in bed with me. I'm a bit disgusted with myself that I thought it was cute at the time--a vulnerable disclosure. Now the whole conversation just creeps me out. I think the scheduling thing was a convenient excuse to not get involved and to justify what amounts to basically using me for sex. I'm upset about the being used part, not the sex part. That I will mourn the loss of...but I kept my integrity.

I come again to the inevitable conclusion that I think I just can't do casual sex. I remember how much hooking up with Noah tore me up because I couldnt rationalize it away. I don't get get the concept, its foreign to me on so many levels. I kind of wish a little bit that I could be nonchalant about sex and love, I think it would make so many adult interactions so much easier. I think some of my hestitations come back to never having the balls to go after someone I want until they show interest in me. I end up infatuated with people because they come to my level, then it's all ok. Not because neccesarily interested in them or god forbid attracted to them, but simply due to the novelty that someone actually likes me and wants to spend time with me. My thoughts on the subject often come into play way too late in the game. But more than that I just dont think I can be intimate with someone without getting my brain involved. I cant really imagine being attracted physically to someone enough that I want to sleep with him, and not be attracted to any emotional parts. I suck at compartmentalizing anyway, but that I think is an unreachable goal--keep sex and like and love completely separate. I don't think I have it in me.

I liked that he was interested in me physically, intellectually, even it seemed like emotionally. I liked that I felt comfortable around him, and was myself. I liked the conversations, about books and culture and world affairs and current events. I liked how I could be honest and open and blunt with him (except for when I wasn't). I loved the snowshoeing adventure. I liked playing cards and being real too. I liked that he was taller than me, and no lie I really liked his abs.

I didn'tlike how weird things got as soon as we weren't together. How there was always something else he had to do instead of be with me. I didn't like how much I wondered about what was in his brain. I didn't like the way he didn't often seem to care whether I enjoyed the sex. I didn't like the way it felt secret between us. I didn't like how I always wondered what he thought bout me. I hated how lovesick and distracted he made me feel for two months, always day dreaming about some nice thing that was going to happen. I hate how self-centered he clearly seems to me after writing all of this.

I'm proud of myself for letting go. I'm proud I allowed myself to experience physical pleasure. I'm proud I did this, even though I knew I'd like as not end up hurt. I'm proud I lost my head for a while, that I let things play out. I'm proud I showed up, was honest with myself, the situation, and with him. I asked a little while back for courage and grace to be truthful and embrace the experience, and I think I was able to do both those things. It didn't end the way I woulda liked, but I did the best I could. I opted in. I dont think I would have been able to a year ago, or even 6 months ago, before I came out here. I think I would have been too afraid.

I'm happy to have him off of my chest. It is a bit of a relief on top of everything else I've been feeling. I don't have to sit with my crazy girl brain for another two months as miserable as the last two were in some respects. I got good and definitive answers, closure, and can get on with things. I can go back to the job that I love with a clear head, and not be constantly looking over my shoulder, or dreaming up harebrained excuses to run into him. I can go out with people I meet and not wonder if I should be telling them that I'm seeing someone. I can get back to the work of building a life here, and remind myself that I have to be the kind of person that I want to be around before anyone else will.

There will be other rapids, I know there will be. I don't quite believe that given my three year dry spell, but I know it to be true somewhere deep in the death throws of my stupid girl brain. This might be another long stretch of flat paddling, but there are always other rapids coming.

I'm so looking forward to going back to work on Saturday. My body and heart and soul are craving it, and my brain will hopefully get there shortly.

Don't Stop Believing

So I did some impossible today, I had a real meaningful personal conversation with Jack. I have come to the conclusion that good casual sex is still casual sex, and sleeping with him is starting to make me feel shitty afterward due to the inevitable separation. Somewhere in the middle of trying to convince myself that I wasn't interested and didn't care, I got attached, and I'm so proud of myself for saying so. The only time previously I've done so was with Jason way back when.

While I'm sad and disappointed about how everything worked out I can't say I'm entirely surprised. It worried me enough just for the sake of our still opposing schedules, though i guess I secretly was thinking it would all work out once we managed to find ourselves in the same place at the same time. I should have acknowledged that we both had clearly different expectations, I saw but I tried to ignore. Even before the whole " but I like you and I like sex so I figured it'd work, but I have no intention for anything romantic..." spiel, I saw it. I wish I could be pissed at him, but I'm not, I'm pissed at myself for believing. I hadn't felt used before the conversation this afternoon at all, but now I do. I'm pissed at myself for expecting more from casual sex.