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.
Saturday, May 30, 2009
Thursday, May 28, 2009
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.
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.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
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.
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.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
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.
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.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
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.
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.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
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.
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.
Saturday, May 09, 2009
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...
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...
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