East Rock

I'm back on my East Rock watching another sunset at Grumpaw. Being back here feels like sitting amongst a multitude of spirits, least of whom are all the Open Sky kids who have came before. This is one of my favorite spots for views, down into Squaw, the Ute, Shiprock, the Chuzco's, and the very tips of the Abajos just from this vantage.

I am wanting to have a hard time engaging this week, but so far not finding that to be the case. I thought it would be difficult, this being my last shift for a month, and with the amount of anxiety I had about again a whole new crew of students and my first suicide watch.

Urges

Still in the field for an extra night, covering for some sick incoming staff. I'll admit I agreed for pretty selfish reasons, but its been a good evening all around. I feel more comfortable and at ease with this set of staff I think, and it was just friendly and relaxing to run into folks from that crew for the first time in almost two months. My patience is definitely way past wearing thin with the girls, but otherwise I feel pretty good about things right now. I did run into Jack accidentally on-purpose again, which was just as intense as ever. I sat next to him during chemical dependency group and I couldn't stop laughing to myself at the irony of listening to the naturopath talk about cravings and urges, while recognizing my own of an entirely different source...

The Space Between

It is warm like springtime this morning. I am perched on top of those white rocks watching a very strange fog blanket the space between the Chuzco's and the sleeping Ute and our little kitchen spot. I love any vantage from which I can see our multitude of mountains, and rise bout the daily grind of juniper and sage canyons for more of the big picture. The breeze on my neck and thesun on my cheeks makes me think of very early February on our lake ages ago, when the trees are tricked into releasing their golden haze by an early thaw.

I slept last night with my head poking out form under my shelter and watched the stars go by for a good long time. I saw the moon rise over these rocks and the whole plateau go instinctively iridescent. I saw Orion nearly make his full migration across the sky, and Sirius rise and set. I think tonight I just might sleep next to the shelter entirely, and enjoy a full night and morning of big open sky.

Maybe its just the force of suggestion and the power of my imagination but I just inhaled ocean and my nose bristled with the exhale of salt and brine. My spine tingles from base to crown with the sensation, and my soul is somehow instantly about a thousand miles away.

I am currently daydreaming about my time off and all the logistical and emotional turmoil that I forsee ensuing. I had the thought earlier that it might be kind of a lot and intesne to fly back to Albuquerque, do three days straight of WFR, drive back the four hours Monday night, and go out to work immediately Tuesday morning. I'm not sure when WFR is supposed to finish Monday, but even if it is on the earlier end, it still kind of seems like a lot to accomplish. I am daydreaming about taking that first week back in town off as well, then pulling a double--starting out on Sky and coming off on Open, then staying on Open for the time being. I sort of fear another double, and the week recovery more than anything, but working straight through after being gone seems like bad news for my personal and professional stability. The double also seems like the best of both worlds, schedule wise, get a break on both ends, work the same amount money wise, get to hang with both staffs, get to end up on Open in the end, and maybe end up crossing paths with Jack in the process.

I feel again, looking out, that if I don't let my gaze settle for too long in any one spot this place mimics my home mountains. The scraggliness and absence of underbrush makes me think of those first October backpack adventures, high on ridge lines long after the leaves have blown down in the first fall thunderstorms. I wonder sometimes hoe this water girl can feel so much nostalgia and longing wrapped in the desert so far from moving water.

For the Sake of the Universe

Breaking tonight at close to sunset at the Gallery. Today is glowing and I am content. We had an easy walk in from Tucker Springs after an easy morning, and made it here with enough time to set up shelters and do P-time well before the light leaves us. I am sitting behind my shit-show of a shelter chowing down on field manager chocolate and sesame sticks, having already changed my clothes and layered up for the evening, and feeling pretty damn stoked for life in this moment. Things are sort of clicking so far this shift in an understated and soft kind of way. I think my guide instincts are beginning to kick in, the ones everyone always told me would come. I've had good luck and shared good intentions and have been pretty right on with the general feel for the group so far. I don't really have the words to describe it, more then just falling into place. There were no fireworks or anything, life just got easier and less intensive this week.

There went the sun and I can honestly say I am about equal parts filled with dread as excited to see the sunrise from the white cliffs in the morning. This whole winter thing is growing on me I suppose, but not too loudly or discretely. I finally just sort of feel settled, with the process and the whole idea. And with the crapton of chocolate that I consume on a daily basis to make it through.

Though today feels miles and miles from last shift as far as internal turmoil goes, I am today working on parsing some of the feelings still writhing about in the pit of my stomach. In some respects I am facing my greatest fear--that I had a short and very powerful intimate experience and thats that, no greater god-like dimension, no earth shattering second act. I am facing the fear that I have been (will be?) forgotten by this boy, and that even with all the barriers between us finally gone the interest and desire will have waned. For me I think that would be the worst case scenario--to finally have the opportunity to be together again, and to get shot down. I think this is also just my mourning process, and a fairly classic attempt to think my way out--the epic battle between idealist and realist, head and heart, continues.

I think the difference today is that I will be direct and upfront, if and when I get the chance. I think I could be honest, even when it seems foolish, all for the sake of taking that chance and not looking back on this whole experience with regret. If I could right now, I would tell him to have faith that the universe is well intentioned, and will bring us together if we are supposed to be. I would tell him not to be afraid of what is to come, and don't shut down a good thing because of that fear and apprehension. I would tell him I can't hide from how I feel and be a hypocrite to all of my students. I would tell him to put aside some of the baggage that people carry about relationships for a little while, and give me a chance. I would tell him that my view of being with someone involves hanging out, going on some adventures, cooking good food, and poetry. My vision of an intimate relationship involves a lot of laughing and a lot of rabble-rousing, and a fair number of sunsets and sunrises. My version is honesty and challenging each other and fighting and reuniting. Mine is space and independence mixed with enough passion and curiosity not to get clingy. Mine is a scary new experience ballanced with trust and the good sense not to take oneself or the other too seriously. Call it what you will, label it what you need, just dont get caught up in all those unvoiced fears and expectations. I would tell him today how impressed I am by his genuine nature and all the sunshine he carries through the world. I would tell him how I read books of his and I hear his voice, how I read and am a bit homesick for a place I've never experienced. I would ask for honesty in return, and for the truth, his truth about what happened between us, and the freedom to move foreward.

The afterglow smudges of sunset are rapidly fading, and I'm thinking my attempt to hide out 'till fire happens without me might just be unreasonible. I love the me and the evenings that time can be told by temperature and the number of stars in the sky, not the number of cups of coffee I've drank or the amount of television I've inhaled.

The World Is Made of Energy

I know as soon as I open this they'll call me back down from break for breakfast...Steph and me planned a pretty mellow week with two layovers for personal time, so hopefully even with short breaks we'll have ample time for spacing out and reflecting.

I'm sort of in a weird floaty place right now. I am engaged, but not excited. I am blah, but not exhausted like I thought I was going to be. I am present, sort of, but already counting down the days to my next break, next off-shift, to February and March really. I am much less possessed by all that happened in December than I was last shift, at least for now.

Time's up.

It's been really interesting being on the mean staff since working on the Sky shift. It's a whole different energy than the other side of things, both with staffing and just the general vibe from the students. They see us as much more severe, the other staff takes care of them and we make them do for themselves. Its also weird to not have the kiddoes on my side for the first time in a while. I think thats more a lot of transferance going on on their side, some serious staff splitting, and I think me taking things more seriously than I should.

I love it when I'm the one figeting and zoning out and all of our students are actually being responsibly productive. I am warm and drowsy in the sunshine, probably a bit dehydrated, and really wishing I could nap in the sunshine someplace warm...

Six Days

It's Monday again, and I am far from settled enough to be going back to work. It's been a good week off, but six days just feels far from adequate to recover from sixteen in the field. Even just thinking about it right now makes me antsy and a little angry, put-upon in some strange parralel universe.

My challenge for this shift is going to be presence and focus. I guess I feel a little bit better prepared to settle in than before last shift, but not much. I am caught between my need to just be where I'm at and my need to set it aside, go to work with a clean mind.

The Day After

Monday evening and it's snowing again. If it had to snow, the last evening out in the field is a pretty decent moment for it to do so. I am hanging out in the healer tent as an extra pair of eyes while Kate does some testing. Its a pretty awesome sanctioned break, actually.

I made the mistake of giving in and getting online briefly this morning, while hanging out in the trailor on my break. Now I'm super conflicted and scattered by what I saw. The good news is I'm officially confirmed to switch back to the Open side of things as of mid-February, when I get back from visiting Columbia and recerting my WFR in Albuquerque. I'm having a hard time pinning down how I feel about it right now, and am looking forward to checking in with Ellen tommorow on the subject. I expected to be totally elated, and to not find that true is midly concerning. I think it would almost be easier to not get the news I wanted, and just to make my peace with keeping that door closed for good. This way is so much more complicated, and means I actually have to do the work for myself and make a decision for myself about what I want from this boy. And then to have no communication from him waiting makes me frusterated and disappointed and confused. It makes me second guess myself and my actions. It makes me feel a bit silly also. It was nice to see all the birthday wishes from everyone, for sure, but overall internet reconnecting to real life experience was discombobulating, confusing, disappointing and fairly anti-climactic. I kind of wish I would have waited 'till I got home and postponed the inevitable.

On the plus side I'm not pregnant. Finally. So relieved. Well, I feel like crap but I'll take it.

Birthday

I think the best part about my birthday so far has been waking up warm and dry to two cups of hot chocolate on one of the coldest nights of expedition yet. All of the girls wished me happy birthday, and the guides sang me a song. We are warm and dry back up at the wall tent after hauling ass from Tucker Springs this morning. I'm sort of zoning after finishing most of my paperwork, while dinner prep is rolling forward. They are cooking me a feast, and then I have the night and following morning off. I'm debating what to do with my evening. Breaks are way more complicated this deep into winter, I find it pretty frustrating particularly at base to find some way to occupy myself. I used to just lay in the hammock and read or write for a while. Now it's too cold to stay in one place for very long. Regardless, I'm super grateful for one more big chunk of downtime through the chaos of change-over.

I get a big kick out of recognizing all the things that used to freak me out working, that now I do pretty comfortably. I remember the first morning we woke to snow a couple shifts back. Even better, I remember the first time I pood in the snow, and how horrified I was. I remember the first time eating out of one bowl with a stick. I remember the first time attempting to bust a fire, packing a construction pack, and building a shelter. I remember the first time I called a kid out for something, the first argument I attempted to get in the middle of, and failed. Or the first time I called a kid out for being sarcastic. I particularly remember the first awkward staff feedback session. And carrying fives...

They just preseted me with a big gushy berries and cream dessert and sang happy birthday. Too cute...

This ends day thirteen of 15, and even with all of my frustrations about feeling present and problems focusing I do feel like I've made a lot of progress this shift. This is the first one where I really get why and how I differ from the students. I struggled with relating too much, and thus had a really hard time making and holding any boundaries. It finally hit me sometime last week though. I'm different from them because I've done my work. Not to say there isn't more work to be done, but I'm way further on my path than any of them are. This shift was also the first one where I've succesfully shared even a little about my own experience and past in a productive and appropriate manner. Overall, atleast this second week, I feel like I've contributed alot therapeutically, and too the staff team in a stronger and more assertive manner than before. I don't know whether theres been a lot of growth itself this week, or whether it happened sometime when I wasn't looking and now I'm just noticing the afterglow.

Must. Make. Feet. Warm. Fuck.

Taking the Bull By The Horns

Yesterday kicked my ass hard, and repeatedly. I was leading from Masada over to Old Base Camp, and what started out as a relatively simple slog through the mud on the road turned into a pretty stressful and endless canyon hopping tundra crossing marathon. I was super far gone by time we cruised into camp around 8 pm. I let myself get ravenous, and by the time we arrived I was way past coherent or pleasant. Though I was disappointed with myself for getting that cold, wet, and hungry, I was really proud that I could voice my needs to the staff and where I was at emotionally and physically. In the past I wouldn't have been able to admit that I was crabby and starving, or that I needed some space to cool off and snack once we got where we were going. I was also able to control myself and not get pissed at the wrong person.

It was a pretty sweet hike actually, and best of all pretty challenging for everyone involved, even staff. My big mistake was getting talked into going off road when I wasn't super stoked or ready to do so. I should have made a judgement call, and stuck to it. I also didn't have a good enough picture in my mind of where we were going and what was between us and getting there topography wise. I kind of figured once we decided initially to stick to the road that I knew what I needed to know, the one crucial intersection, and left it at that. I allowed Dustin to convince me what we needed to do, though I didn't totally understand enough to lead. I should have voiced that and stuck to the road, or taken the time I needed to be better acquainted with the maps. My temptation was to transfer a lot of my frustration and exhaustion and anxieties around leading to him, and I'm stoked to say that for the most part I didn't.

We woke to snow this morning, though by far not the epic maelstrom I've been fearing. It snowed for a little while while we were getting going, though tapered off pretty quickly. The stars are presently trying to come out, and the temperature dropped 25 degrees easy from last night. My rain pants have frozen to myself since sitting here, wet on the outside from digging deadmen for the corners of my shelter. It might be too cold and clear to snow more tonight, and at this point its not a huge deal either way. I feel the pull of the wall tent pretty good tonight, and the deeper hum pulling me back to my car and the complex life therein. I am however not looking forward to the almost inevitable crash that will follow us after we get back to base tomorrow, it's depressing.

Scratching at the Backdoor

It's so much more than weird to write 2009 for the first time--to see it in print is to make it somewhat real. 2009 is such a departure into uncharted waters, a journey to lands I haven't even dreamed about yet.


It's Friday morning, warm, and I've just finished the last of my chocolate stash. I'm kind of at a loss for things to write a little bit. Things have been going fairly smoothly, time has picked up her pace, and I feel more or less comfortable in this space. I have the anxieties of the fast approaching off-shift sort of nipping at the outer edges of my consciousness like the dogs yelping at the backdoor to get let in. They haven't entirely convinced me yet, which I suppose is in itself progress. I am nervous that I haven't started my period yet, though not yet completely horrified. I am not often regular, and the amount of physical and emotional stress of the previous month could easily put me off my schedule. Or at least that's what I'm going to continue to tell myself for a few more weeks. I am anxious that I will potentially know in a few days whether or not I can move back to the other shift and when. That will mean whether or not this whole boy thing has any potential to go anywhere. I'm less bummed about the whole social side of things with switching to the Sky shift now that I've connected with Erika and Dustin and a few others. I'd be sad, but it wouldn't be as cataclysmic as I'd feared before coming out on this shift. I'm nervous to get home and check my phone and my email, and see who and how I've been remembered for the season. I'm apprehensive about change-over, secretly hoping there to be some small quiver of a chance to run into him around base camp at all on our way out. I'm sort of scared that there will be nothing and no sign and no contact and that he will have already moved on from this whole torrid fling. I always wonder how it seems that I get so much more engaged in a relationship or interaction with another person than the other party, but that frustration is usually my penchant for drama and codependency speaking.

Seems I let those dogs in after all.

I'm proud of myself this sift for being a big girl and dealing with the cold. Last shift being out at 15 degrees threw me pretty good, but we've been down that far pretty regularly lately. The thermometer in the medbag said 30 this morning, which seems downright balmy. I've even mastered a bit better the art of keeping my feet warm at night, though not before doing some long term damage to a couple of toes. I feel so much better equipped to handle the cold this time out. My new sleeping bag is more than solid for this climate, plus the addition of the silk liner and my bivy I'll be damn near polar bear proof. Also bringing out the Russian socks for at least sleeping have helped tremendously--I've been double bagging them lately at night and haven't woke because of cold feet since. My red synthetic puffy coat and actual snow gloves too have made life in general way more pleasant to deal with. I usually end up wearing both puffy coats at night while we are working on dinner prep or group and stuff, and then sleep wearing one with one wrapped around my feet. I've been hiking just in midweight long john bottoms and hiking pants, then all the way down to my purple exped weight top. Well, all two days that we've actually been moving in the past eleven. I'm also proud of myself for sitting with the anxiety that comes up on cold dark fireless nights and moving through some of it. I know and continue to remind myself that the sun will come again, I will be warm and comfortable again soon. I have to remind myself that night and winter are true transitory creatures, they will move forward and the light will return momentarily.

Hiking today to Old Base camp, then tomorrow up to Tucker Springs. We should get back to base by Sunday pretty easily, and in time for my birthday. I hope to have transitioned E to the west by that point (FINALLY), assuming she doesn't check out completely with her aftercare news. For me just personally that would be a huge note to leave on.

It's warm enough in the sunshine and silence that I'm getting drowsy just sitting here...