All Such Things

Night-hiking again this New Year's Eve, well sort of. A truly drag ass morning and a wee bit of a back hike and again a beautiful trail side sunset in view of three mountain ranges. We are in full meltdown mode on two of four fronts, but the amount of work to be done I'm finding thrilling, and super engaging for once. That may be the large amount of chocolate I just consumed however, or the fact that I'm warm and dry in my sleeping bag in my shelter while dinner prep happens down below and around me. I am a bit high off an afternoon of good conversations and a lot of good feedback from the girls in the last few days. They keep commenting on how much the appreciate my honesty and disclosure, how it makes me easier to relate to. Though that boundary is still a pretty huge challenge for me, hearing that is a huge victory. I've known all along that my experiences and my story will make me a much stronger guide in this role, and its nice to see the very beginning seeds int hat garden start to bud.

If I could, I would tell these girls that I've been there, and it passes. I would tell them that I've drank too much, did drugs for the wrong reasons, slept with guys to try to satisfy a need I didn't understand. I would tell them I've been depressed, anxious, suicidal, codependent, hopeless. I would tell them about the number of times I've lost and found myself, and the number of times I've found myself at the very bottom of the well. I would tell them about waking up with the wrong people, and then the right people. I would tell them that we are all so much greater than the things that happen to us. That we are all such thorough works in progress--there will be good days and there will be a plethora of bad. That there are days that threaten to strangle you, but every morning can be a new start if you allow it and are open to it. I would tell them to stay away from the quick fixes and miracle treatments--life and recovery are battles at times. I would tell them that some days you are here and some days you are not and the key is to love yourself without judgement and never fear the work that lies ahead.

The truth is I would tell myself all such things...

Prospective Retrospective Perspective

I am growing to appreciate some these bitterly cold nights where my feet freeze and fire just wont come. I am attempting to write from my shelter in my sleeping bag still, while the coyotes sing in the dawn, and the sky grows slowly rosy. Nights such as these test my stamina and test my faith and conviction that the world keeps turning and the light will come again.

I sort of can't believe it's almost New Years again. I spent the holiday this time last year in Columbia ignoring my thesis, getting ready for that ridiculous train trip, and sitting at home alone while even my folks went out and partied. January brought that epic cross country adventure, marked by endless text message conversations through the empty middle west, singing, and my face plastered to the windows for a one and only glimpse of the Rockies. February I have little to no recollection of. I remember a bitter cold snap, hiding out in the cemetary above campus in the frigid sunshine, just for a clear and unobstructed view of mountains. In February I ignored the Portland rains and began to walk all the way down Terwilliger to catch the Barbur busses. In February Shawn and me went out briefly, and LBD and I made winter and the city ours. March I only think of school and more school. March and my thesis excited me. Shoot, in March my other classes excited me. In March I read my environmental justice books for fun. April I think about spring break and crunch time. April was my first huge thesis deadline. I started applying for work in April, started getting the wrong offers in April. In April we adventured to the coast for that one tumultous afternoon. April was cold and wet. And then May was such a hellraiser, I sort of can't believe I survived her. May was deadlines and arrivals and departures and the very lasts of so many things. May I graduated from college, finished my thesis and was very well recieved, packed up my appartment, left Portland twice, and survived my family. In May I refused to say goodbye. In May the adventuring began for real. I spent May in four timezones.

June was when I realized that Birch Trail was going to be way different the second time around. June we crashed and burned in the Boundary Waters the first trip out, and I got my first taste of the wrong side of Gabe Chernov. July I continued to continue screw up in their eyes, back to the Boundary Waters with Lisa, get blown nearly to smithereens (or Canada) on Lake 3, and continue to sneak out and run away to Ashland and the lakeshore for some quiet time. August I left Wisconsin angry and sad, and quite conflicted that it was possibly for the last time. In August I landed at home for good for the first time in awhile. August also brought that epic Texas roadtrip with Kathy and those damn cats, and the day to day absurdities of temping in office buildings. In August I bought my first car, and freaked out to Ellen about moving west almost daily. I sat through September and waited impatiently. September was more departing and arriving and epic drives. I remember September with an altitude headache, for coming to Open Sky, and for being homeless for awhile. September also brought the mindfuck that was training, and the very beginning of the long slow realization that this is my work and that in a lot of respects I am living the life I imagined for myself. October terrified and frusterated me, full of budgets and logistics and all-too-adult requisites for my likings. October was sunrise from a couch in Emily's living room, while the steam train railed off the canyon walls and eating leftover P-food for lack of a better option. October was more homelessness, and learning to trust that thee universe provides for me as it should. October also was my monumentally frusterating first shift in Cleo, impotent and that breakthrough second shift around election day and halloween where things finally started making a little sense. I remember November for the tremendous let down and monumental self-growth that happened over those three weeks of not working. November was all about synchronicity and those secret unexpectedly spiritual moments that sneak up when you're not looking and suprise you with openness and profound knowledge and strength. December started out silently screaming with both the awesomeness and frustration fo that first double shift over Thanksgiving. I will remember this December however, not for some work milestone. I'll look back and know that this month was one of the very few in my adult (?) life where I truely set down my anxieties for a moment, went with the flow, and lead from my heart. More importantly, I went where my heart took me and was open to the experience.

I don't believe in New Year's resolutions really. I think its dangerous to compartmentalize growth and change and commitment like that. 2009 just seems a bit unprecedented to me, 2008 was the most distant landmark on my map for so long that this crossing over is like sailing off the edge of the Earth. For 2009 I want to see a continued deepening of relationships in all directions. I've started recently a lot of work on family ties, big, scary, lifechanging work that I'd like to see come to fruition. Whether or not Jack is the guy for this moment, I'd like to see that part of myself come out more often, and unabashedly so. I'd like to do some serious body and energy work to look at the block in the channels between my head and heart, though I know it can't and wont happen overnight. I'd like to be financially stable to put some money away, start paying off my mother, and be able to see a shrink and do some accupuncture at least once a month. I'd like to find some additional social outlets, have a good time on my off-shifts, and still not come to work so exhausted. I want to explore the southwest, and learn more about what is to be my adopted homeland. I want to visit Portland at least once. I want to read more books and watch more movies and hear more lectures and truely push myself and engage myself intellectually. Intellect is so much bigger than school and academia. I want to be less afraid in 2009. I want to know that I appreciate and value everything that I've been given, and that I grab the moments that speak to me.

And

Please bring strange things.
Please come bringing new things. Let very old things come into your hands.
Let what you do know come into your eyes.
Let desert sand harden your feet.
Let the arch of your feet be the mountains.
Let the path of your fingertips be your maps and the ways you go be the lines on your palms.
Let there be deep snow in your inbreathing, and your outbreath be the shining of ice.
May your mouth contain the shapes of strange words.
May you smell food cooking you have not eaten.
May the spring of a foreign river be your navel.
May your soul be at home where there are no houses.
Walk carefully, well-loved one.
Walk mindfully, well-loved one.
Walk fearlessly, well-loved one.
Return with us, return to us,
be always coming home.


~Ursula Le Guin



Day seven and I maybe perhaps dont feel foggy today. I think getting riled up about how to treat how to treat Amy's feet and manipulations finally knocked me a bit more to my senses. I feel way more like myself today, still a bit doe-eyed nostalgic girl for my likings, and already missing and worrying about my next off-shift. But a bit more grounded in my body than I've felt all week.

It's warmer today, and the sun is blessedly still out. We are pulling the girls off solos as we speak, and will fill the rest of the day with ceremony and debriefs and check-ins and all the ordinary logistical nightmare that the week's end brings with it. Martha will leave tommorow, and Dustin will shift over someitme thereafter, and I have the chance to make this a new week if I wanted to. To stop dragging my feet and counting the hours and do some real and solid and good work.

I have some serious processing ahead of me with Amy in the near future, the likes of which I'm not sure I know how I feel about. I've known she is a wicked good mimic, and quite perceptive to other peoples' smallest mannerisms and gestures. I also know how attached she get to Chris on our Thanksgiving double and how jelous she got about all the special treatment he was giving to Sara for her cold feet and "poor circulation". And now suddenly Amy is dying of the same affliction. Not that I don't buy that her feet are uncomfortable, but to me it seems like a pretty clear grab for attention, using methods she saw work on us before. My challenge before I start to process with her is to figure out in my head how much is legitamately a concern as far as her actions go, and how much is my lingering anger and resentment over getting ignored and not believed by staff last shift over the same issue. That was really my only mission though I don't think I voiced it at all, was to speak the truth of my experience as I see it, and not worry so much about the consequences of what people think or who I am calling out. I can be so much of a better and more effective mirror than I have been lately. I would reflect to Amy I think how indirect she communicates, and how frusterating the mixed messages she sends to us are. I would try to shower her how shes been acting compared to how Sara was that first week, and also remind her how much Sara's whining and special treatment frusterated her in that moment. I think I would also maybe see if pushing the whole mind-body connection might get anywhere, though I kind of doubt it would....but see if she can track on how she is feeling emotionally whenever she is complaining of feeling sick or hurt.

I'm sort of feeling the West today. I identify that as the yearning for the North but not quite having the resources or the energy to quite access that place. I want to go there and do that work, but feel like lethargy is keeping me rooted, staring at the sunset on the western horizon. I sort of feel like I have so much going on in my head that I should be able to work and move things and discover. Thats sort of exactly the problem though, I am fully stuck in my head. All the thoughts and feelings which I'm sitting with are totally and completely coming from my head. I think my North work at least for the next good long time will be learning to come from my heart more than my head, and distinguish the two. Most of my turmoil and haze this week has definitly been head oriented and head bound.

My heart? In my heart I feel excited. I feel tremendously lucky and sort of incredulous that any of this is even happening to me. I feel scared and anxious when I think about what has happened and the possibility of what is to come. I feel that in the small of my back, between my shoulder blades, and just below my xyphoid process. It feels tense and squeezing, and sort of rumbly. My heart sort of bounces between blissful exhiliration and close to terror. Though on second look thats not that far from normal...

On the Dragon Spine

I'm not sure for how well or how long this will actually work, but for lack of a better idea I'll give it a go. I'm on break tonight pre-dinner, watching the sunset over way off Monument Valley from the top of the dragon spine at Soda Springs. My handwriting is going haywire as my hands are freezing, but the light in this place and the beauty outside and within my head is too breathtaking go pass up. If we were at sea this would be the moment of the green flash. As it is, the only flashes are from the snow searing my retinas after two days without sunglasses. Atleast I finally got smart today and remembered to put sunblock on.

I wish I had words or an explanation for why this shift is going so roughly. Some of it is bouncing around from group to group and then that transport. Some of it is just being blah from the holidays. Some is I'm sure being way less gung-ho for a double after that first one. Some is coming in mentally, physically, and emotionally drained I'm sure. A lot is just feeling far away outside my body for most of the time so far, and then beating myself up over kowing that I'm pretty checked out. All this translates into me feeling pretty inept at my job. I've also been way less than adequate at the eating and drinking neccesary to be out here at this time of year, which leaves me feeling even more exhausted and physically ill. And then all the normal winter terrors leave me dragging at the very tail end of my inspiration.

I didn't sleep much last night for cold feet and truely screwed up dreams. Solos make me a little bit paranoid to begin with. I always thing I hear students calling their name to be rescued, particularly after it happened last time. They are doing well here this week, but the activity crossed with the forces that live here at this site definitly set me on edge.

I think the biggest thing that makes me antsy about the whole boy situation is how healthy it seems. I realized this after talking to Martha about it a few mornings ago. This (whatever this is) is the first time I've been with someone and not been somehow altered in the head. Usually depression, though anxiety and a whole lot of alchohol were at the forefront of all the relationships I've ever had. It's strange and more than a little bit terrifying and wonderful and intriguing not to have all those crutches to fall back on, truely uncharted territory. Maybe even moreso than the sober sex was...

I have in the back of my mind what happens when Ellen decides to keep me on this shift for good. Or when I dont get my period next week. Or when I get home in 9 more days and have no note or anything from him. Or even worse--when I do. Most nights sleeping out here I flash on that one evening together in a tent. More often than that I imagine his presence--the smell and the warmth and the mischief in his eyes. I imagine how he would be in a group, or whether he thinks of me out here, though I shut that down pretty quick. All these imaginings and secret backroom dealings really wreak havoc on my present tense. I am touchy like I haven't been in a very long time.

I hate to admit it but I am counting the days to warmth and some security and peace of mind. I am not tapping into the grace I know I have, my hood and hat pulled very literally down over my ears and eyes, blocking out both sound and the last afterglow remenants of the sunset.

Coyotes tell me it is way past time to retire...

Checkout Time

Today was hard. Christmas and all didn't really faze me very much, though I didn't entirely expect it to. My body is trying to tell me things I'm not ready to listen to, and is rebelling a bit in the meantime. I think I took that exhaustion and disembodied feeling of the past couple days and turned it into a migraine. Also the parts where I beat myself up over not feeling present I'm sure played a large part. At any rate, I basically slept through our holiday festivities for the most part. I took a long break and slept in the staff tent, and basically zoned out for the rest of the evening.

I am intrigued and curious about all the good spirits in the group right now, and whether it will hold up through expedition. We have the specter of solos and snow staring us down, not to mention another holiday.

I just cant shake the feeling that it doesn't feel like Christmas. Or New Years. Or my birthday. Or 2009 coming on, when 2008 with graduation has long been the most distant mark on my horizon. It doesn't feel like time is marching at all.

Coming At You

It's Christmas eve and I am back in Cleo after a very brief soujourn in Bohdi. I kind of feel better already--the young adults sort of stressed me out. All around I am distracted and foggy today, and I don't like it. I feel sort of disembodied right now, given everything going on drawing my attention away from right here right now.

Right here right now is chilling out in the wall tent, relatively warm and cozy for the first time in days. Right now is laughter and light while the snow continues to fall outside. Right here doesn't quite seem like a holiday yet, but is trying hard. Right now is sort of real and nostalgic and rosy red and glowing. This moment is full of recognition and cameraderie and some homecoming, even hundreds of miles away.

On the other side, my head is full of secret longings and remembrances. My head is full of February and the chance of returning home in a few weeks to a note or an email. My head is all overheard stories and recollections from other people, and a secret inner smile to myself that is apt to make me burst. This place is so fall of his presence, its both torture and kind of reassuirng in a way--he is in fact real and more than a figment of my wayward imagination.

Every now and again I just sort of shake myself out of this hazy reverie. I can't do two weeks of work in this state, I'm exhausted and we are still at base camp.

I am confused that the little window ledge breaking the flow between my heard and head is making an appearance today--maybe simply the sign of not feeling relaxed and grounded and at peace with my responsibility. This whole boy situation has thrown me further from my routine than I'd like to admit.

I'm going to stop now as heres the part wehre things get pretty circular and weird.

Double Time Again

I can't believe tomorrow is Christmas eve. It's tuesday night of another double shift, and it's almost too cold to be writing right now. I'm hanging out in Bohdisatva actually, trying to keep an open mind about working with the young adults for a few days. So far so good, but the last like 48 hours seem such a whirlwind that I have a hard time slowing down longe nough to track on what is good or not good. Bohdi is a bit liberating, a bit scary intimidating, and really fascinating in an introspective kind of way, just trying to figure out where I fit in working amongst ostensibly peers. My biggest fear and why I fought working over here so hard is not being removed at all from the students. I use my age separation a lot to fall back on with the Cleo girls, and my fear is exposing my true scattered spastic self and not showing that I have the resources to be in authority and do my job. I sort of feel like I'm 22 and hae been where they are at in the none too distant past, what right do I have to offer any guidance? That said, I feel like I can finally envision a place and space where I can share some of my story with students here in a safe and appropriate manner. I like that feeling and I like the person who could make that happen quite a lot.

And theres the mee that feels stupid giddy after a two minute interaction with a certain boy on the outgoing shift. It seems we were meant to cross paths again regardless of whether or not I engineer it. I ended up stuck in Cortez to help with half a transport of an Avatar boy. We took long enough at the pediatrician's that the Open side was finishing up lunch when I ducked into the staff tent to grab some tampons on the way down to the sites. Just the hug and the way he looked at me were enough to make my week and prove to be super distracting. But the interaction also was enough to convince me that what happened between us was real and mutual and lingering.

Crazy intense few days and theres more to relate on another moment. I am so happy to see stars tonight for the first time in days. And for the hope to sleep warm tonight in my borrowed wiggy, even if the mercury does in fact touch down at 0 degrees F. Honestly, to sleep at all tonight would be fantastic...

Fearless

Things I am Currently Afraid of:
-winter
-next shift sleeping out at sub zero temperatures
-driving in the snow
-skipping my next period
-why my big toes are still numb after last weekend's snowshoeing adventures
-not having enough money to pay my bills
-the secret thought that the sun won't come out again for a long long time
-seeing boy on my transport in a few days
-my mind when I think about any future with him

Things I am Currently Sure of:
-my way around Durango and enjoyment of
-winter will end
-my sunlamp is god
-chocolate makes winter better
-double butter and cheese rations make life complete
-I wouldn't mind having more regular sex
-I am a great writer when I want to be
-I miss close people in my life, but am doing better and finding and making them here
-the next place I live will be closer to downtown and with some sense of community and people
-I like myself better when I write poetry
-I am not as dramatic as I imagine

Things I am Currently Working on:
-controlling my anxiety around working outdoors through the winter
-cleaning the fuck out of my room before leaving for work on Monday
-slowing down
-admitting how I feel, not how I think I should feel
-accepting the adventures that find their way to me
-balancing being real and authentic with being under control with my students
-not flipping out about spending money
-not freezing to death
-trusting that the universe makes things happen how they should

Specter

It's 1:30 Am and I am bound and determined to sleep in my own bed tonight. The snow is falling softly enough outside that I can't tell whether it is itself a drowsy dream, the whole outer world muted by the storms still going on inside me this evening. I am unconsciously falling back on one of so many mantras which we feed the students--that I must feel this pain fully, breath it in and back out through me so that it becomes a part of me, that the next time I feel this I know that I can sit with it and breath with it and overcome. The specter of past lives and experience sits flat and heavy on my chest tonight, yet surprisingly none of my escapes seem to be helping and I am flattered to be left to my own emotions for this night of hazy reflection on the horizons. I love the light that brings winter storms, pink dim and somber with the hint of that burning freedom that will come with the clearing of the clouds.

So I had a fling. So much more than a fling that I can feel his presence with me, that I wake to the realization that there are months between us with the ache and trepidation of starting out on a long and wild journey to some place untouched and untraveled. My previous 6 days pale as they fade from view, yet clarity seems to be seeping in through the cracks and mortar stones the longer I sit here in this place and acknowledge what an experience this was. I sense the temptation to hide tonight behind these words, though I reach simply for the right ones to write this experience, sear it into the most top layers of my brain is I have seared it into my flesh, and begin the process of turning it round and round to see what I can learn from it.

He came unexpectedly, when I was not looking. I sensed him before I knew him, like a ghost crossing the path in front of me, raising the hair on the back of my neck. Or the warm updrafts we get even still hiking at evening in the desert, like the hot exhale of some desert creature breathing sage down my spine. He brought to me a childhood on a northwest Montana ranch, farmboy revolutionary sensibilities, and a particular enjoyment for reading poetry and western tinged prose aloud. We sat by the river long past dark and listened to the torrent as I told him of my paths and passions, and we talked of wilds, and of saving the world. He took me to bed, and to the mountains, and we laughed it seemed for 6 days straight. He told me my honesty was sexy, and pierced the space between us with those eyes and shit-eating grin. We lay and watched the light return to the day around us, and I never once stopped to wonder wherefrom this blessing, let myself greatfully adrift till this departure day.

And now the clock has since struck and turned me back to a pumpkin, who dare not tempt fate yet with boisterous dreams of another ball. I am switching shifts at work which means we will work opposite for a time. Which means I must again bolster my faith in the universe that things happen as they shall and as they must. I confide that my convictions in the world right now are as paper thin as the air outside my window. The specter of our paths crossing again makes me want to do irrational and impulsive things--to have this albeit external good return to my life I would risk more than is healthy.

I know my work for the moment is to stay in this place. To breath through it and with it and sit next to it and stroke it, though running or dulling the sharp edges seem like the best course of action. Being in a heart space for so many running days was such a relief I hope to hold on to the ghosts of this experience for a while, and to explore the dark spaces which remain to haunt me.

I will do this, I can do this. I have wanted nothing more than to be the person who can risk with out fear, and love with the wild abandon that I so crave for myself.

Where I'm At: Take Two

"This is what real education is about--opening our naked, scarred, vulnerable, precious souls to each other."
~Grace Feuerverger

Where I'm At

"

come, my love. we have mountains to climb and wilderness to wander. you have shown me a love that cannot be given or taken. let us bask in the fullness of ourselves. a simple kiss now blood and breath, both awakened. a balanced diet to sustain health and life. we will wax and wane in attention given from our father. we can trust he will return, yet, she is here. she has granted us this land to forge her cycle, and when in doubt she places the ocean in our tears. come my love, we have oceans to sail. the painted nature of this earth is water-based and will fade if not tended. let us retrace the origin of a kiss. they have ravished your heart and mind, but your breath travels freely out of your mouth and into mine. there, is the current i wish to sail. here is a love, uncharted. throw away your map and swallow this cratered pill. pull it from the sky and let it dissolve under your tongue. it is only a matter of time before we are timeless. " ~Saul Stacey Williams

Embody

I'm having one of those charmed life removed from reality experiences. The one where being in the middle of some luscious acid trip seems to be the most reasonable explanation. For the first time in a while I seem to be navigating by my heart more than my head and ignoring the consequences for the moment at least. I keep getting stuck in the spaces between whole thoughts, and that emptiness and vastness is sort of relieving--a well earned reprieve from the matters housed between my ears. I lick my lips and ponder whether I made the whole thing up.

I don't even think this is a conversation I'm ready to have with myself quite yet. I think I'm content to sit and drink tea and watch the snow begin to fall on Main Street, though it is much to warm this morning to even contemplate sticking. Headed out in a bit for a weekend in the woods, after which I'm hoping to return with a much clearer head and cleaner conscience. For now I am working to just sit with this chaos and clarity and all too physical manifestation.

Re-entry

Reentry this time around feels a lot like culture shock. That whole unexplainable ache and perpetual confusion, and the boundlessness of understanding. It is familiar in function but new in form. I am learning again how to swim in matter which I can't yet permeate. The sun is out and 45 degrees suddenly feels pretty balmy after 10 degree mornings...

Chinese Water Torture

It's finally Monday, and its raining again. I slept in the tee-pee last night with three of the girls as Callie was hardcore stomach sick all over the wall tent. Sleeping there though was like Chinese water torture--I spent a good part of the night trying to find a good way to lay between the drops. Its warmer though than it has been in a while. The scene at Cleo camp though matches the attitude and energy of the girls I'm sensing, sort of dreary and a bit abysmal. We had such a big expedition--physically, emotionally, mentally and spiritually that I think its a bit of a let down for them to be back at base. Our last hike was 10 miles (not entirely inadvertently), I mean really. I struggle to do 8 with BT girls on Isle Royale, and even personally 10 miles is no stroll in the park.

The changes I've seen this shift have been pretty monumental. I know I say that often, but it seems like almost every shift out here something different and more ridiculously inconceivable happens to broaden my horizons to the true possibility of this work. Amy, herself, blew me away maybe moreso than any student I've yet worked with. I mean she went from walking out of camp, and almost being restrained and put on runwatch her first night with us to finishing her South pathway. She has developed into a strong force for good within the group. She takes leadership roles, role models positive behaviors, shares herself, and is starting to call out others on their shit. And it all sort of happened when I was looking the other way almost.

And then there was Erin, who rode this expedition it seems straight to rock bottom. I haven't yet seen the outdoors totally break a person down before her this week. The wilderness did our job so much better than we did on that regard for her. I mean--the girl pooped her pants and still wont admit it after hiking for almost 2 more days. I hope she cant get much further down than that, for her sake. But since screaming and crying and cursing her way hysterically through the last night of hiking I've seen a spark in her for the very first time since I've known her. You can see enthusiasm and excitement and even the tiniest bit of nascent positivity if you look really hard. And even a small amount of internal motivation.

I am personally excited to be back here ( I hope) next shift for the Christmas double and to see where another two weeks out here leaves these ladies. I've observed so well how long two weeks can really be.

Routine

I have almost just stole this morning for myself. In retrospect I kind of enjoy this wise little routine I seem to have fallen into...Wake at first light, use the bathroom after finding my way out of the sleeping bag Harry Houdini style, gather kindling, revive last nights fire, start some water for tea, and write. Somewhere in there is a pause for sunrise, and a couple to admire first light skyrocketing across the canyons. The other staff usually wake way earlier than I'd like them to, but at least I'm guaranteed some small part of the day is mine alone.

I need to be better and more compassionate today. I want like a keyword or some kind of mantra to knowck me back into my mind and kick start that empathy overdrive that I so love and loath. A safeword that reminds me of insularity and universal respect for those girls and what they are here attempting to do.

Encroach and Approach

Winter's approach is turning into one drawn out exercise in controlling panic. Every night out here seems to be colder than the one before, and bedtime triggers a little bit of a sense of impending doom. Its definitely a good project for me in controlling my fight or flight reflex, in keeping myself in uncomfortable situations, and trusting that whatever comes up will be surmountable.

I am again realizing how crucial the alone time thing is for my sanity. Its a couple hours past sundown, and we just rolled into camp a few minutes ago. I've been daydreaming for most of the day about an extra hour of morning to enjoy, fantasizing really. I got up about 6:30, got the fire stoked, started some water for tea, and had only just sat down to write when people started waking. The combination of mourning the lost morning, not sleeping well for two nights in a row now, and being stuck in the back hiking watching a couple of students at their whiny entitled worst put me in a foul mood for most of the afternoon. I hate the feeling of being zonked, checked out mentally and emotionally. I'd be walked on pretty much auto-pilot for awhile, catch myself zoning out, and have to remind myself that hey, this is my job, and prod myself into a conversation with someone. I remember learning so well about internal self-care that first summer at Birch Trail, and wondering how I would ever make it through a whole day on trips without just exhausting myself. And we didn't have the staffing or the mechanisms to take breaks on trips. I think I need to bring more chocolate out on shift. I think I need to maybe get up even earlier to have that space before the students wake. I think I really need to get over my embarrassment over asking for breaks, like anyone is going to think worse of me for asking for the time and space that I need...

The moral of this story leaves me attempting to chill out as dinner prep happens. I climbed halfway up the mesa and am sitting behind a couple of huge boulders. We're camped close enough to the wall that voices throw really strange echoes, and the girls below sound almost crystal clearly from behind my back. Oso, Jonah's dog appeared a little while ago from behind me and all I heard was animal breathing down my neck. It's hard to stay up here when what I really want to do is doze off but its too cold to do so comfortably. It is almost too cold tonight to sit in one place for very long. So my brain says nap but my body says get moving.

Under the Cottonwood Trees

Sitting under cottonwood trees, even in the dead of winter still puts summer smells on my mind. Last night they were saying was the coldest one yet, drooping down into the teens for my first time out here. It's cloudy, and the sun's weak effort seems like snow. I am increasingly aware that surviving winter out here will require a lot more consciousness around taking care of myself and a lot more acceptance and breath than I am used to incorporating in my working life.

Marie graduated last night. As she likes to say, she took my Open Sky virginity. She was my first good Cleo conversation, my first pathway I signed, my first 1-1 session, my first student mentor, and my first grad. She was also the last of that first core group of girls I worked with my first shift to move on. I guess I'm feeling a little attached to that, and a lot less rapport with the current crop of students. A lot of this is just time, I know, and a lot is just the strange march of hours and deeds that means we must all move forward, willing and concious or not, eventually. Marie's passage though, in a roundabout way brings me to my own journey here. Her departure makes finishing my apprenticeship seem real and closed. Marie was also the one whos eemed to stick with me, even on the off-shift, and I'm curious to see if I can control and process that adequately, now that she's gone.

This journal was meant for this time and this place---I see it so vividly now. The red one lost to Squaw was very much a South place in my experience, full of rages and passions. This one feels so much more contemplative and grounded than before, writting here feels a bit more solid and fluid than before even. I like the feel of it in my hand and the way I feel compelled to open my heart lately while writting.

Even drowsy and zoning I can still hear camp going on a good quarter mile away. Someone yelling the same things at the same people, and I kind of have to laugh. I think this week I've done a lot better at owning up to how I'm feeling, particularly regarding specific students. In the past I haven't been super cognizant of the way or the moments when students triggered me until well after the fact. Amy affected me so much, pretty much from the moment we arrived at base last week. I was able to acknowledge that though, and work through it relatively constructively. I made it a personal mission to proove that I could work with ehr, even if it meant being uncomfortable with all our interactions bring up for me. I've done so fairly consistantly and succesfully too, I might add. I didn't let her scare me away.

Into the North

We camped last night on top of some mesa, one of the coolest moonscapes I've seen out here yet. I love linesleeping for the views, and the returning light here is just beginning to think about creeping back across the desert. The Chuzcos and the next canyon over are still frigid silhouettes, even the lights on the Navajo reservation are still on from the previous night.

It's December 1, and I'm very much feeling the North this morning. The frost on my sleeping bag, the cut in the air, even the attitude of the students these days make everything seem a bit more placid and serious. Winter makes this gig seem so much more long term and steady, like something I'm really committed to for more than the three month summer season. Winter must be taken seriously. I'm curious this morning though, about what my North work would be...

Maryland seems far away, Oregon even further today. Maybe thats the presence of mind and spirit I've been missing for the past few days, come to think of it. Today our journey seems an integral step on my greater journey. For the first time in a while I can see that greater path. The one bigger than Open Sky, the one bigger than being a field guide even. The road stretches out like an already curled birthday ribbon in both directions. Except there is no road, we make the road by walking it.

Trigger Point

Morning at Masada on the first full day of expedition. I am trying to slow down my brain long enough to unwrap what really seems to be going on in the pit of my stomach this beautiful day.

I'm noticing this shift for the first time how my conflict-avoidance plays into how I do my job. I've been working, well, we've all been working a lot with our newest arrival Amy. I was with her even before she got out here. I was with her when she tried to walk out of camp her first night. This morning she threw a fit when I went to wake her up, screaming and crying like I'd bit off her left arm. I worked through a SOAP note after Chris requested me to, though neither he nor I really believed her very much. Her defiance and oppositionality I'm finding very very off-putting. I hesitate a bit when I approach her, because I don't want to get into a power struggle I can't and won't win. Talking to her is starting to feel like talking to Dad--the absence of reason, and the lack of bidirectional communication. It's a little jarring to keep myself in that place, and I've challenged myself to keep working with her because of it. I remembered too, how important it is to keep everything in perspective and remind myself to respect each of my students, regardless of how they are acting. I respect this girl for having a vision for her future and a clear idea about how being here gets her there, even if she is kicking and screaming the whole way. That takes a lot at 17, I don't care who you are.

And then there's my mentor student this week, Callie. She'd probably be done her south work if we let her. She is powerful like I haven't yet seen, so much that I'm curious where to take her. She knows why she's here and what she needs to accomplish. She works too hard, but otherwise its just fun to sit back and watch.

I feel out of sorts. I don't like that twisting feeling in my stomach. I don't feel super grounded, which is all around disconcerting.

But I didn't even mention--I got moved to assistant yesterday, abysmal fire skills and all!!

A New Thanksgiving

Sitting around a raging bonfire at Cleo camp seems ages and a million miles from my last entry. It's Thanksgiving, early afternoon and we are having personal time in the tee-pee. Its been pouring for the last 36 hours, and life smells like Oregon so much so that the olfactory overload is quite confusing. My eyes say desert but my nose and my heart say green mountains and rainforest, and the contrast is blunt with distraction.

I have so much gratitude for being back with the girls this week. I am again reminded of how being out here instantaneously dissolves the barrier between my heart and my head, which lately I am so painfully concious of. I also realize I have a lot of anger and resentment even still over the whole staffing fiasco. I thought I had worked through it but apparently not quite yet. I stand behind everything that I've said about this last chunk of time off being meaningful. My anger I think at the core is my frustration and uncertainty around wanting to be succesful at this work and still fighting that battle with feeling perpetually inadequate. I transfer a lot of anger onto Ellen, I think in large part because I perceive her as responsible for whether I stay or go. I also pin a lot of my insecurity onto her, atleast professionally, for having so much doubt about hiring me in the first place. I feel in some irrational sense that getting to work last shift was a reflection of them (theres the great "they" again) not having enough faith in my abilities out here. I think Ellen and me also communicate in very different manners in a lot of ways, and her blanket ebuliance and energy intimidates and exhaust me.

I catch myself starting to get anxious about the rain and the weather and the omnipresent looming specter of encroaching winter, and I'm reminded of my WFR instructor's two certainties in life. He liked to say you can be certain of two things in life, the bleeding will stop and you're either pregnant or you're not. Similarly, the rain will end. It has to, even in Oregon in the rainforest the sun comes out periodically. Winter is the same, just on a greater scale--the sun will come again. It has to.

I'm strangely OK with the way the boy situation unwound itself. I think the universe was conspiring to tell me great and global things, that I interpreted on a small, selfish, and pretty much inconsequential level. The lessons were correct but the application was far too narrow-minded. I think he was sent to show me exactly what I've been missing by walling off my heart, and to remind me that there are so many other ways of being in the world. I think he was supposed to show me exactly how disconnected my head is from my heart, and how deeply that disconnect manifests itself. I think we can be great friends, past all this lovely awkwardness. I think he was also supposed to remind me of my power. When I want something bad enough I can summon the gumption, resolve and courage to follow through. I talk myself out of what I want so easily and so convincingly. I'd like to see the romantic ideological side of myself win more battles in the future over the realistic pragmatic domain. I like those parts a whole lot more completely, I think. I respect the pragmatist, but I enjoy the romantic.

On this day of thanksgiving and gratitude, I'd most like to acknowledge the deepening understanding and openness to the myriad of things the universe can unveil to me. I'm greatful fo rthe opportunity and emotional fortitude to have come to this place and follow through with this grand adventure. I'm incredibly fortunate to have found myself here, and greatful for the insight that has already come to me. I am greatful to be living withouth depression as we look to winter's approach, and for all the tools and strengths I've honed in managing my fight. I'm greatful to be out here this week and every week, for the chance to live to my greatest potential and most soulful nature of my being.

It will certainly be a holiday that I will remember for a while.

Poetrees?

I want to write
like the blood pools in my head
suspended and
upside-down.

I want to write
with incandescent
recognition,
locking eyes with a stranger.

I want to write
how blue skies tear
my unprotected psyche, how
bobcat tracks knee-deep in mud
shiver.

I want to write
like the last sunset, dazed,
caught unexpected and off-guard
in the rear view mirror of my car.

I want to write
with saltwater and seagulls,
of waking up in the desert neath
juniper canopies,
waves still crashing.

I want to write
while the children still sleep,
and my fire is the only
light splitting open
darkness for miles.
~11/14/08

I breath fire sometimes
while my insides quake and
stumble and breaks squeal
like a child in pain.

The chiseled brownstone three
floors below has rooms to let,
and cowboys on bicycles smile,
wondering how Colorado fares come
springtime thaw.

Winter sun retires, beaten
flummoxed and finished before
teatime. We call out
to mortal gods of fire and white.

Though I breath fire sometimes,
pour light like coffee at $1 a cup,
I am secretly pacified and amazed
as the ring road mountains blush
and crystal plays with the moon.
~11/14/2008

Bobcat Tracks

It's quiet up here in Big Canyon, and warmer than it seemed down below. I walked for an hour up past Sidewinder turnoff, ate lunch, and found a sunny spot to promptly doze off in. The mud from snow melt proved to be way more of a work out than I had expected and I am gleefully now covered from at least knees down.

Unexpectedly not working this week has me quite off balance. Maybe I was off balance before, and not working just exacerbates and excuses. The moon is nearly full this week and it pulls at my heart not to be out there beneath it. I miss work in a very real tangible sense, full of longing and sadness and uncertainty and a search for meaning. I carry particular students with me in ways which I'm not entirely sure are healthy, and definitely not helpful. I carry the land with me though, so completely it is almost jarring at times to wake up in a bed.

I'm a firm believer in what Jason once told me long ago, that we are only given the challenges which we can handle. Part of my challenge on this whole grand adventure of moving out here and trying to make a life with this work is acceptance. Taking on the life that has been given to me, not necessarily the life that I imagine, and being thankful. Give in and drink the proverbial lemonade, so to speak. I think I was given this extra time for a reason. I think I've been hiding a bit in work and not really settling down here at home. I think by throwing myself wholly and completely into the job I've allowed myself to mask a bit of the discomfort I feel during off-shifts. I also think that partly because I've yet to settle on any sort of transition ritual from field to home I've been so far unsuccessful at differentiating the time and genuinely not so hot at disengaging.

Half the reason why not is upsetting has nothing to do with money. I was worried about spending two more weeks by myself. I'm still worried, but trying to make the best of it. I feel at times like there is so much missing from my Durango life that the hill is almost insurmountable. I miss friends, and conversation and intellectualism and music and challenge and community. I miss having reasons to leave my home every morning, not in the I'm depressed sense but in the I'm bored sense. I miss having people that will give me crap if I don't.

I think I was given these weeks to put my wellness plan into action. To have to disengage, and to sit with my discomfort on doing so. Change, yes, is unnerving, but I am so much better than this.

A Little Reminisced

I finally figured it out. Walking back over the river to my car tonight, under daybright nearly full moon and iridescent remnants of last week's first snow--Durango reminds me of Krumlov. Almost painfully so, the low and stony river, the spiral streets with no cars, the way the snow reflects off the sky lighting the entire city in eery cast-off tones. Even the way the mountains stand off, withdrawn, the perspective of the surrounding hills and the castle tower. The revelation was so strong it took me a moment to take a breath and bring myself back.

The moon is full and being indoors is killing me. I didn't expect to miss the field this profoundly, to feel the pull so strongly after only a month out here. I miss the girls and the routine and the very act of being there--home and away and righteous.

Complex

It sort of serves me right to miss out on sunrise yoga this morning, after not quite finding the motivation to venture over to the rec center on several occasions this week. So instead, denied, I am hiding my face at Starbucks with all the tourists (real Durango-ans no doubt take their business elsewhere). Tuesdays are taking on the weighty impulsiveness of Sundays during school time--too timid to trump the specter looming of real work, and far too much to accomplish in the meantime.

I am facing this shift with a fair amount of trepidation. This week is number three, what should be the end of my apprenticeship. Even aside from the pressure I feel to perform well and move forward, I am working towards intention for the week to come. Last shift part of the reason I felt successful is coming in with very specific bite-sized goals for myself. They were in large part reflections of that very first week int he field. I'm not sure yet what I want to reflect, what my task will be.

As for improvements, nothing sure really trips to the front of my mind. Not to say I was close to flawless last shift, far from it. But most of what I'd like to improve doesn't come alont with steps A-K. My biggest point of concern is maintaining the facade of appropriateness with the students. I worked really hard during last shift in the field to be more aware of the things I said to the girls, and the manner in which I spoke to them. It was frusterating to even still get feedback on the topic. She is probably right though, that I'm not super cognizant of the root of the things I'm saying, particularly family and other parts of my history which still cause me pain. The problem is I don't really see a logical doable fix, no intermediate between inadequate and better.

I think I could probably benefit from admitting my fears surrounding the pure logistics of this job. I have, sort of, the personal impact anyways. But at a very core level I'm afraid of fucking this up. At basically every juncture for feedback I imagine them to finally tell me the jig is up, OK thanks for playing, but it is time to go. Ellen intimidates me alot (hello transferance) and every time we are riding too or from base and I hear people compliment any of the other new folks a more than small part of me wonders why no one is saying similar things about me.

This inferiority complex this is so abstractly fascinating for me. Where the hell did it come from? It's not exactly like I was verbally beaten as a child or anything. All of these latent expectations seem so foreign and inexplicable, yet at the same time so perfectly familiar.

Wants and Needs

Saturday night and I just couldn't bear wasting another evening. Instead I am stewing and sipping hot cider at that coffee place across from Walmart. I was up and out early today for some yoga, but fell back asleep as soon as I got back after sunrise. A good long talk on the phone with Chris, dinner, a shower, and there went another afternoon, whiled.

I'm here tonight because I need more order in these off-shift days. I need to figure out what I want and need from these jumbled days, and I need to be honest and methodical about how to go and get there.

So here it is, wellness Open Sky style:

Body:
physical exercise besides yoga 2x weekly
cook real meal on stove at least 2x weekly
take supplements regularly
see acupuncturist at least 1x monthly
shower at least every other day
get dressed well at least 4x weekly
lotion
clean bathroom at least 1 x monthly
leave floor clean before leaving for work
spend at least one hour outside at least 2 x weekly

Mind:
read books at least 3 x weekly
find and attend at least one concert/lecture/gathering of smart people weekly
watch at least 1 new movie a month
finish altar collage by january
pay off credit card by january
pay Mom debt at least 1 x every other month

Heart:
find and see shrink 1x monthly
locate volunteer opportunity and serve at least 5 hours monthly
journal at least 2 x weekly
speak with family at least 2 x weekly
write at least 1 poem per month
write at least 1 letter per month
leave house daily, even if just to walk Gilbert

Soul:
yoga at least 4 x weekly
meditate at least 4 x weekly
UU church at least 1 x month
locate music by january

So let it be so...

Las Mariposas

I'm finding this off shift that the better I am at my job, the harder it is to really leave work in the field. This past shift I was so much more successful at making connections and building rapport with the girls (and other staff, for that matter), and fortunately/unfortunately I am struggling a bit to disengage.

Lately while meditating, I've been imagining my thoughts as swarms of butterflies, flitting around my face distracting me from my real work. Every time I catch myself thinking, I imagine the butterflies and envision them flying out the window on a command updraft, then return to my breathing and the task at hand. Every time I've noticed myself thinking about the girls lately, I force myself to push the butterflies back out the window--sort of a waking reminder, an ebbing and retreat of the tide.

It's sunny, blue, and cold again today, with just a hint of Wednesday's snow dusting still lingering on the hills and canyons outside of town. I am musing at the Steaming Bean, watching cowboys in Chuck Taylors' stroll by, and doing my damnedest not to think about anything significant. I am indulging in my first cup of coffee in maybe a month, which is only stoking my apprehension for winter's coming, the end of my apprenticeship, and a bit of homesickness for the rain forest and that past northern existence. It smells like pine suddenly today, and tourists in sunglasses and shirt sleeves seem strictly absurd.

I'm chaffing a bit at my lack of routine, I think. My stomach is a bit unsettled, that nervous energy that usually goes with riding a bus in a new and unfamiliar city with no knowledge of either where I'm going or the cultural custom required to exit the vehicle. Its a bit disheartening to be skating on the surface of this town. I want so badly to break through, to make some connection to something or someone that will hold fast to me here. The rest is a bit, well, lonely. Except that I dont do lonely, really. I feel no loss for people, only places and ties and that fleeing sense of acceptance and belonging that I both love and loath.

It is somewhat of that same battle that I fought all of last year while working weekends for College Outdoors. I love the visceral feelings in my body while working, how complete and present I feel in the woods. For whatever reaon I am still feeling that hard to hold on to in real city inside life. I'm closer to integrating both mes than ever before, but the process of doing so is quite alienating and discombobulating. While walking in concrete I am at a monumental loss for words.

I feel tightness in my stomach and stress in my shoulderblades. My stomach and legs feel itchy and scaley. I am warm, and my left foot is trying to go to sleep on me. Mentally I feel lubricated, like there is so much more that must be said, yet no words to express. Emotionally I feel a bit wistful. I have some anxiety and some longing that is making me want to clench my fists and paste my eyes shut tight. My soul is elsewhere, sitting on some highup overlook dreaming of water and clear skies.

Confessions of the Evening

I am secretly more excited to be back from the field tonight to shower, throw on sweats, and lie in my bed watching last week's episode of Grey's Anatomy than I am to get caught up on the news...

I have secret cravings to crunch maniacly on crypto while working in the desert...

I sneak chocolate from my food bag regularly during meals when I think no students will notice...

I miss the northwest a bit...but not as much as I feared I might...

I'm afraid of winter coming on...

Election Day

That big day in November and that other world seems very far away right now. It's Tuesday afternoon at base and the wind is howling something fierce (as usual) while the girls are doing chores. I am both pretty exuberant and fairly drained. I didn't really take any time for myself while we were on solos, which in retrospect was a mistake. I found myself sitting in group last night not really retaining anything that was being said. I fell asleep before Martha had finished singing the girls a lullaby. Solos were pretty mellow, actually. It made me want to do one of my own. Each of the girls were so totally different while they were out there by themselves. The loudest most gregarious ones would appear almost sad and withdrawn when we checked on them. The quiet ones were totally in their element off by themselves away from our daily chaos. It was nice just to kick it with the guides and with the field managers as well, but it made for a very strange feeling week. There hasn't been a lot of time to really hang with many of the students, not even my mentee student after pushing so hard to take on mentor responsibilities.

Plus I'm probably dehydrated. And haven't wagged yet today, which is making me feel altogether giddy and not myself...

Finally took that break. Its dusk now and I'm hanging out up by the trailer in their hammock, watching some crazy sky. Its been blowing pretty hard all day, the temperature dropped maybe 10 degrees , and without sounding too cliched there is definitely change in the air.

I'm lying here trying to think of what this week was meant to teach me. I keep flashing on moments, but so far no particular overarching message comes to mind. There have been glimmers which leave me amazed and curious that this is actually my job, like how did I come to be in this moment in time. I take that as a very good sign of being comfortable, allowing myself to accept that I'm really here, and to settle a bit further and deeper emotionally. I think maybe this week was meant to show me the power of intention. I left the field last shift fairly frustrated with myself, mostly because I left feeling sort of impotent. I knew there was so much more that I could do and offer and take on. I came in this week knowing that I wanted to step up and take on more, to take more initiative in order to feel good about my work. And I really have...

Four hours later Obama is our new president. Its snowing pretty good, and so cold my fingertips hurt sitting up writing this. Everything seems downright surreal, and the thunder snow continues outside adding an eery layer of disbelief.

Snapshots I'll take away from this week: sitting on the edge of Avatar point on Halloween night with the new girl Sarah in the dark and actually getting somewhere talking. Several incredible psychadellic sunsets and sunrises. Thundersnow. When Caren called out on solos, and the three of us took off at full speed, total adrenaline. Maybe perhaps getting through to her about productive uses of anger. Leading my first two groups ever here. Feeling included in staff groups. Being asked by students for help. Getting my period twice in three weeks (damned healthy food). Busting up a storm with David and Derek, and getting significantly closer to flame. Cassie smiling at me. Marie crying about aftercare. Learning what it feels like to be manipulated by a student. Learning what it feels like to be unwittingly dehydrated and drained. Being a bit revulsed to have to tarp a student. Freaking myself out over skinwalkers. 120 killerpillers. Duststorms and dragons. Feeling like I belong out here...

Suddenly I'm Torn

Back tonight at Avatar Point watching the sun go down towards the Chuzcas, not quite making it before the horizon wins out. I love this site but am finding it makes me homesick for the ocean. I think it is by virtue of unobstructed horizon line panorama, looking down and out on the flat plane that takes my brain there.

Off this first evening of expedition, and I'm finding this week way more to my likings than last shift. I feel much more at home and closer to falling into a routine on the job. I hadn't entirely realized how being cold and not sleeping well affected me throughout that first week. Its a good deal warmer this week so far than last shift for sure, but the additional warm layer, winter sleeping bag, and pants with a crapton of pockets (hell yes JCPenny husky boys section) make life a whole lot easier to deal with. My new thermarest and super cush -5 degree sleeping bag make going to bed a bit of a joy and getting up for sunrise way less of a dread.

Theres an oil drum jam session going off somewhere close by and I keep loosing my mind adrift somewhere in juniper and pinon below. Its cloudy today, kind of muted and disconcerting. I can barely imagine this high desert in the rain, a strange juxtoposition of alien forces and not quite natural consequences.

I'm feeling very torn this week, for a lot of different reasons and from many different directions. First off I guess would have to be Dave. He finally got in touch Tuesday evening, and I finally forced myself to listen, hopefully in a more detached manner than I've been able to before. Talking to him made me angry, but different than it has in the past. He's doing better, not so depressed, but off medication and back on pot again so as to not demonized and alienate himself. I am pissed at him because it seems like such a ridiculous propostion--drink and smoke to be less depressed--but I think I understand where he is coming from. But for the first time, I'm not angry with myself about it all. I was proud that I was able to clearly explain to him why I was angry, how enmeshed I feel in his issues, and how much countertransferance I put on him, how much guilt I feel every time he goes down hill. I want to know more about countertransferance and co-dependency, like pathologically. Dave is definitly my model for it, but he's only one exaple of many, one relationship among dozens where I take too much responsibility and begin to personally manifest other peoples' experience and emotions. Empathy is a gift, but for some reason my compassion impulse goes on overdrive and is poorly controlled. I remember at 10 thinking my Dad got cancer instead of me, and feeling deeply at fault. Or at 13, lying awake all night for months because I thought Charlie could sense that I was awake and thus not kill himself because of that connection. Dave is just the lastest in that chain, and I want to know why and wherefrom.

I am feeling torn this week in the field physically due to the separation of two students from the group. We have Caren on directions (sort of an extended time-out) for the duration of the shift probably, and than Sarah just arrived new night before last still on Gateway. I'm finding it hard to speak only minimally to both of them, when I really want to nurture and make everything all better. I also feel fairly manipulated by Caren--I want to believe and trust her, but I know that I cannot at this time. I fear she is trying to use me, to take advantage of my ignorance to get away with things of which I'm not yet aware. We had a couple of good talks about why she's being punished and her anger, where I really tried not to take sides at all and just listen. I fear now that she takes me as an ally over the rest of the group and staff with which she still feels fairly conflicted. Particularly I feel used over first-aid priveleges. I'm in charge of basics this week and she is using my compassion and commitment as a cry for attention rather perpetually. I'm uncomfortable still not being able to fully trust the students, a feeling I'm still processing. But in the mean time I feel quite torn.

I'm also running into some internal conflict about being relazed and building rapport and wanting to be better on boundaries and rules with the students. This came up a lot last summer, and I know I feel better when I am more lax, but stuff also starts to happen when I'm not totally on top of things 100%. I am torn here in this setting because of the constant give and take from the rapport bank. I want them to like me and trust me, but those boundaries are so crucial to the girls' development...I haven't been here long enough to know where the balance point is yet. I fear being taken advantage of or being seen as weak if I don't enforce the rules that I see all the more because I'm new and the students don't know me well enough yet.

Torn, and pulled in so many directions, as I said.

We're laying over tonight for Halloween (!). Then tommorow and Sunday we put the girls out on solos, which they are not going to dig at all. We'll head back to base early Monday, then commences all of the turnover chaos. It seems so weird to me that this may be my last shift with some of these girls, either because they might move me next week, or because some might have gradded by then. Days with these girls really aare like weeks in terms of the experiences and connections you make here on fast forward. I will be happy to see them move on, but will think about them all often as my very first students out here.

Holy Wholy

Still off this morning, watching an unfortunate set of clouds roll in. At least if it starts to pour, the next two nights are at base in the wall tent, not under my wholey tarp. My shelters are getting better, but the top tarp is pretty shredded from walking through one too many junipers on training. A big storm is gonna happen sooner or later, and I'd almost rather get it over and done with.

I wonder how it will be like for me, looking back on this week months and years from now. I remember my first trip at Birch Trail so vividly, how it felt in every inch of my body to finally be doing what I knew I should be doing. It terrified me to be completely and totally out there, to have this dream and risk everything in pursuit of that curiousity. Most of all it scared me to throw myself into this work and chance learning that I wasn't good at it, that the dream wasn't meant to be. I felt a bit like that on training, particularly when things were so difficult and I wondered (they did too apparently) whether they would approve of me or whether I'd have to start all over again. I have these two simaltaneous instincts. One, if I'm not naturally gifted at something that it must not be for me and I shouldn't even bother. The other leans the opposite direction, that I just naturally havet o work three times as hard as most people to succeed at the things I am passionate about, and I should just accept and acknowledge that fact. This week has been a new and different mixture of both tendancies. There have been some parts where I've felt just called to this job, liking pushing Cassie up that last hill, or coaching Kris with her letter. There have been some parts where I know I'll have to put the work and the hours in, like confrontations and group management. And there have been a lot of moments where its been neither a total loss or complete victory, where I feel pretty OK simply taking things as it comes and learning as much or as little as I need as I go along.

As much as I've been asked lately, I still don't have a good answer to why I'm here. Wanting to do this work has been such a constant in my life for at least four years. Its hard to go back and parse the inspiration. I wanted this even before I knew how vital it would be for me. I wanted wilderness before I needed it like oxygen or blood. I'm here because even in my darkest moments I could find a bit of peace outdoors. I'm here becasue I wish someone would have had the awareness and the guts to send me to a place like this at 17. I came here because I know so well some of the experiences of these girls, and what profound impact small moments can make. I guess in as few and as clear words as possible I'm here because I know personally the effect wild places can have on wellness, I've seen the change in others, I've read about it in countless books and journals, and I believe spiritually that there are forces out here working on all of us that are more powerful than any intervention I can offer. I believe in wilderness personally, experientially, academically, and spiritually, a belief so strong that I must do my part to make it happen. I am the best of myself out here. I've come, yes, in part selfishly, because I want to continue to see those shining pieces of myself on a more regular basis. But I've come also with empathy and service and curiousity--I want to see the best parts of these girls out here as well.

I have that hint of winter depression in the back of my mind, poking at me discretely every time I notice the date on the calendar. I can't even wonder again whether this year will be different, I cant allow any of my energy to go down that path. Its really not even worth the temptation of believing I'm cured, though no doubt the perpetual sunshine and wellness in which this job surrounds me will do wonders. The temptation leads to a laying down of all my armor and a weakening of my resolve. Being well takes all of my will and none of my imagination. This means getting back on the supplements, and back on the personal time agenda, and getting used to talking to strangers in this new life in which I find myself. I know the battle plan, I know the fortifications, I just need to prepare myself physically mentally emotionally and spiritually for a return to war. The summer armistice is over. I hope being in this environment, atleast half time, where wellness is so ingrained in everything we do, that I can find the support and enough reminders to force myself to do what I need to do...

Personal Time

Laying over today was just...excessively pleasant. Thats the best way to describe it. I woke dripping, literally, burrito-d in our make shift tarp bivys from line sleeping last night. Martha and I sat around drinking mormon tea till sunrise, blinding and psychadellic over the La Platas. Nate showed up a bit later, and we ate chocolate, dissected the previous day, and gave midweek feedback to each other. I found both the giving and receiving of feedback today uncharacteristically hard. I got some great stuff from everyone, though not as constructive as I would have liked. They both commented on my comfort in the outdoors, which made me smile inside, and also my tone, though as a positive. Giving feedback was particularly challenging because I've known these people a grand total of five days and am so new at the job myself, like far be it from me to give them any criticism.

For myself, I need to figure out how to stay warm. Its only October and early mornings I'm already shivering in all the layers I brought with me. I need to have a better handle on tone and sarcasm. I need to sleep better in the field because I can already tell I'm wearing thin. I need to get better at reading the group, and knowing how to motivate without pushing puttons that I don't want to push. I need to get used to not fixing everything, and sitting back and watching things unfold as they may. I need to watch the self deprication, because it sets a harsh precident. I need to get over myself and realize that I'm never going to feel like I have the right things to say.

Today was also a big day for me in the therapy side of things. We had Kris' responsibility letter group after breakfast. It was sort of a first good look at the structure of this place. Her letter is her chance to own up to anything and everything that she feels she has done, wrong or right. It was fascinating to watch the other girls dissect her project and process. They really did most of the work for themselves. I felt like I had a lot to contribute as well, which is still surprising me. I also had a good talk with Marie afterwards, about how it feels to be surrounded by so many people who are so proud of their sobriety. She let me sit in on her check in with Martha as well, which was pretty profound. I am feeling like I'm standing on solid ground more and more lately.

We spend the afternoon carving on fire sets, sitting idly, and whittling in the sun. All and all, a pretty idyllic way to spend a work day. Tommorow a psychologist is coming to do meds for three of the girls, then we're heading to base in the evening. To the best of my knowledge Tuesdays at base are chores and catch-up, then changover on Wednesday.

Weird. This week is going much quicker than I expected.

Achingly Incorrect

We just made it up to Grumpa a litle while ago, rolling in well past sundown. I'm off till dinner, and have settled on an outcropping looking down on the sea of shadow dusk and the memory of sunset. I am fighting the overwhelming sensation of having walked this way before. I think at least presently because it reminds me of sitting on East Rock at Star, though the sounds and smells are achingly incorrect. Its warmer tonight, up high looking down on the top end of Squaw. I actually kept my feet bare, in an act of daring defiance against the coming frost. I haven't mastered sleeping warm out here yet, which is making going to bed quite frusterating. Being here in the high desert is like being new in a foreign country. I can can follow and keep up with most of the actions and expressions, but some just get lost in cultural and linguistic interpretation. I know how to take care of myself in the backcountry, but learning to do it here in Utah is like a rough rudimentary translation.

The thing that has so far most surprised me is the amount of change in individual girls that happens over hours or days. How quickly they can melt down and also how quickly they can step up and show new signs of grace and maturityin the heat of the moment. I want to say that its been sort of a dramatic couple of days, but my sense is what we've delt with is small in the scheme of things. A lot of interpersonal conflicts between two girls jousting for control and feeling cut out and resentment for the other. One minor freak out in drinking puddle pond scum down in Squaw this morning. One potentially somatic stomach bug, though I want so badly to believe her. One hiking melt down, crossing anxiety issues with some maybe perhaps physical breathing problems.

It was actually one of the coolest omements of the week for me so far. I had been walking behind Cassie for most of the afternoon. We hit some pretty burly hills near the end, including the last one which was almost clifflike in stature. She's super independent, and gets touchy when people ask her how she is. I got her to tell me what it felt like when she cant breath, which she actually did in detail. The rest of the way up, she would stop every five or ten steps to catch her breath and psych herself up. I was afraid to cheer her on and make her angrier and more embarassed, so I just stood next to her, and matched her breathing until she slowed hers to match mine. We did this 6 or 8 times until we got to the top. I dont even know if she knew thtats what I was doing, but it thrilled me to get a positive response.

They had me navigate down to Little Easy yesterday, which actually went quite well. We went down a pretty good cliff near the end of Avatar point which next time I'll know to avoid. I took a good fall and bashed in my knee pretty good, which is worrisome, but the girls all made it down fine. We ended up crusing down this sweet side wash full of flowers and whirls and slickrock. I'd only feel better if I'd done it on purpose, if I'd planed to end up there, but it was definitly enjoyable either way. We ended up camping a bit up from Little Easy to get onto state land, and be allowed to poo in the ground. Horray!

Plan is to layover here tommorow, maybe dayhike some. They all have tons of therapy work or pathway stuff to do, and I think we get to do 1-on-1 checkins which I'm observing apparently. We may even stay through Monday, though I hope we'll head on . I cant imagine how two days of personal time would be. It's strange to have water delivered and be near a road again. Sometimes this wilderness seems so close, yet so artificial. I guees all wilderness which I've experienced seems sort of like that, just on a smaller scale than this.

Now my toes are cold. Dang it.

I've noticed and checked myself on a couple occasions my sarcasm and harsh tone. I was called out about both during training, which made it all the more disturbing to see it in myself this week. Also the affects both have on the students in real time. I think in a lot of ways I'm not fully concious of my tone or my sarcasm. Its definitly something I will push hard to be more aware of, for myself and for the students. It can only serve me to speak consistently from a more real place, and seek to understand what sarcasm is convering for or covering up.

I'm intrigued and unnerved by how much therapy tak seems to be sneaking into my lexicon...

Morning Light

Apparently I have this morning off as well. Its well after sunup and I'm finally just getting warm. The moonrise last night and the sunrise this morning lit the horizon on fire. I caught the tail end of the show this morning from my shelter, while trying to convince myself to get up.

I'm sitting maybe 200 yards from the kitchen, down an outcropping behind some junipers, just sort of gazing out over the desert below. The bass line of a couple of far off jets is throbbing in time, and I keep imagining I hear church bells, in this my wild cathedral. The sky is so big in so many directions, it's hard not to be a bit overwhelmed. I find myself wanting to touch everything around me, to drink in and taste the desert.

Today we transition Cassie to the West. We are headed down into Squaw to Little Easy tonight. Then comes the dreaded accountability group, where all are given amnesty and a chance to confess to their sins in front of everyone. There has been a lot of conflict brewing and a lot of strange happenings, a lot of which I imagine, or at least I hope will come out tonight.

I want to be able to process these first few days in the field so badly. In some ways I think maybe it just hasn't affected me as profoundly as I was expecting. Yet. Or maybe I just haven't found the words, yet. I've felt comfortable and familiar with all the hard skills and campcraft. But at the same time all the more frusterated, because I know hard skills can be so much on the surface, albeit thinly veiled. I would like to get into things deeper here, but I don't quite know how yet. I'm concentrating on building rapport with the students, which is pyschobabble for getting to know them and hopefully gaining their trust. I feel like I'm pretty good at making relatively quick and strong connections but I want so bad to go further. It has been a bit awkward, really having no idea what my role is, or what expectations exist for me. In the future I hope to be able to be more up front with myself and with the staff team I'm in about asking and taking on responsibility. Its almost a strange limbo, being new here. Its being real live staff, but not really because for the most part I'm only observing and being another set of eyes, and chiming in when I feel like I can. I can imagine being more than this, which is new. A lot of times, particularly the more difficult moments I have the same instincts and want to say the same things as the senior staff end up saying. Its affirming to know that my responses are pretty on target, though I'm not confident enough yet to throw them in.

Into the Wilderness

It's day two of real live wilderness therapy. I don't even know where to begin. Its prooving way much harder than I expected to take a break. I have this evening off, and I find myself laying in my shelter trying desperately to strain to hear whats going on at group around the campfire. Cassie is supposed to give her lifestory and then transition to the West which is such a crucial step for her and for the group. I feel like I should be there.

Other than that I think I'm actually sleepy. Weird. We're at Avatar point tonight which is big flat mesas on all sides. Heading into Squaw tommorow. Today I learned I need to be much more confrontative. I let too much slide and am not yet comfortable getting into the middle of a conflict. I had a really good talk with Marie about her drug use when we were hiking, which was sort of this first glimmer of what this is really like.

I'm not even making emotional sense right now. It is nothing and everything I thought it would be.

I Feel It In My Fingers

There has got to be some kind of powerful energy in this town. I went to sunrise yoga this morning, which was wild and full of all sorts of energy on it's own for the record. Driving home I saw the biggest, brightest, most vibrant triple rainbow I have ever seen. It spanned all of down town Durango, and touched down on both ends so strongly I could probably triangulate the spot if I thought hard enough. The crazy part, this is the second wildly clear and vivid rainbow in about three days. The last one I saw from my window, with one base just about at the lip of Big Canyon, and the other over in the next wash.

Now if thats not a good omen, I don't know what is.

Aho Mitakuye Oyasin

It's Sunday evening and days are slowly ticking by and I'm getting increasingly and majorly nervous about starting real work in a few days. I know it's just one more blind leap of faith to add to the list of the last couple of months, and that I'll feel loads better once I get there in the thick of things. But right now I'm just starting to get comfortable and cozy in my new place full of sunshine and blue skies, and imagining my first shift sits in my stomach like a pot of cold oatmeal. This job means so much to me, I have to figure out a way to set down all of my expectations before heading out to the desert in a few days.

On the one hand, I have absolutely no qualms about being here in this moment, on the path that I've fought to find myself on. I've wanted to be in the wild in a therapeutic setting for so long, it still strikes me as kind of strange to actually be here, doing this. My two weeks of training for the program honestly were some of the most profound experiences of my life. It ended over a week ago, and I feel like I've only just began to process what happened out there in the desert. I remember sitting on the train to Portland last winter, and writing about how I thought my story was just beginning. I really had no idea...I feel like my words, no matter how many times I turn them around and over, really do no justice to the intensity of this adventure.

There is a metal archway, layered in Tibetan prayer flags which stands in the middle of a field of big sage, about a 10 minute walk into the bush from base. This was my introduction to this new world, and the end and beginning of illusion. Through this arch we entered the gateway, the arrival, signifying the end of past lives, and the beginning of intention. I sat there, in the dirt under cloudless sky, incense burning somewhere close by, totally overcome by my senses. I sat there and meditated about what it is that I leave behind to begin this journey again, and then slowly crossed the threshold.

We walked that first night through the darkness in silence. We walked for hours on an old oil rig road, in single file, with no headlamps, quick enough to distract from everything but staying awake and upright. I remember the smells of the desert, and the strange updrafts of warm air between slow bursts of cool night air. Beyond that, the evening blurred around the edges, with glimpses of lucidity and the biggest brightest shooting stars I've ever seen. It was a trippy experience, walking through a tunnel as if blindfolded, no idea what lies ahead, simply focusing on the physical act of putting one foot in front of the other.

Waking up the next morning was as surreal as getting blindfolded and dropped on Mars. We slept out, and due to our spot near a couple of oil drums going all night like a bunch of well trained hippies with bongos, the exhaustion of the previous few days, and proximity to a bunch of Anasazi archaeological sites, I had some seriously trippy dreams. I remember one about mistakenly eating some poisoned mushrooms, realizing it, and trying to make myself vomit. And also one dream where the bugs flying around my face where I was sleeping where talking to me. Then to wake up under that sky, with mountains and mesas on all sides, facing one of the biggest adventures of my life, it was wild.

I think I was most surprised by the amount of emotion, honesty, and disclosure they both expected and elicited in us. I was surprised by the amount I found myself affected by our journey over those 9 days, and the amount I actually let slip from my lips. I would have considered myself a relatively self-aware person before my training for this Wilderness Therapy gig, but really it seems I had no idea. One of the main focuses for our students is to develop more of a consciousness towards the mind-body connection. We practice this regularly by checking in and reporting on how are mind, body, heart, and soul are doing. This entails no explanations, no justifying, and no pontificating, which for someone as cerebral as I tend to be, can be reallllllly hard. I found myself wanting to explain why my knee was throbbing, or say that it didn't matter, when all they require is an observation of sensation. I had a really hard time separating heart and mind for a while, because again being so caught up in my head I try to think things away, to explain and understand emotion until it makes sense and thus doesn't affect me so much. Some of the revelations were relatively simple, yet for me all the more profound. I happened to be chatting with one of our trainers one morning while putting on some arnica gel. They were asking me why and what was going on so I told them nonchalantly a bit about my knee problems, ending with "nothing really helps so I just try to ignore it." With out even hinting at psychobabble, he simply asked me why. I was stuck on that for a few days actually, and then finally it clicked. The more off balance, uncentered, foggy, or not present I am emotionally, the less I pay attention to my physical presence. And I'm in the clouds quite often these days, I'll just say. But the less I pay attention to how I'm holding my body, the more my feet overpronate, do the wrong things we'll just say, which pulls on my knees and exacerbates everything that has happened to them. The less conscious of my physical body I am, the worse I walk, and the more my knees hurt. The more my knees hurt, the more frustrated and angry and off-focus I become, further worsening the cycle. Simple mind-body awareness, but for me, it was huge.

I find it really fascinating that I have relatively little qualms talking about my own experiences with mental illness, however talking about my own small part in other peoples' still terrifies me. There are things that I said and connections that I made between issues and experiences and ramifications during that time that I've never been able to realize or share before. One night near the end of the week I sat up by the fire after everyone else had gone to sleep and ended up crying for a while with a couple of the guys. I'd been pretty shook up about the lesson on suicide watch for the students, and I'm not quite sure how it happened. I'm learning that I take on an incredibly large amount of responsibility for other people, particularly their welfare and well being, and I invite other people to use me and take advantage of my empathy and compassion because of it. Then when I'm at a low point, there is no one there for me, and I feel all the more betrayed. I am not responsible for the survival of others, but even saying so makes me feel a little...cold. Like I've lost a piece of my heart. But the weight of all of those people drags me down so deeply, it's time to let go. So I cried for all the people I've been their for, who I've talked down from the proverbial window ledge, and who I've allowed to lay down some of their burdens as my own. The last time I cried was senior year of High School when they told me that my mother had lung cancer. Over eight years ago.

We experienced a lot of beautiful spots and people, but the one that sticks with me is the sweat lodge. This was not, by any means, a sweat in the traditional indigenous sense. It was a creation of the organization and all of the people involved, that borrowed heavily from many traditions world wide. A sweat, regardless of who you are or what you are working through takes you out of yourself. I believe it is their intention to facilitate an awakening, a revelation, maybe even a spiritual experience, to show to the students that they are more than their pasts. I know for me it was one of the most profound and mystical two hours of my life, and I say that with out pretension.

Our sweat was to the four directions, one round devoted to each space and place, with breaks in between. During their time with the organization the students work through pathways based around the directions as well, each complete with tasks, responsibilities, and personal characteristics which they must embody before moving forward. Our sweat was only a small sense of the tremendous journeys they are on, and the work they must do.

I was smudged with sage before entering, placed my hamsa necklace and a small stone on the alter, knelt and prayed to the Earth and to the others with me, and crossed the threshold. Inside the lodge is pitch dark, already hot, musky, and so low you must crawl on all fours around the pit in the center. It is small enough that you must sit hugging your knees to your chest, and probably still be touching some part of another sitting next to you. They brought nine rocks from the raging fire that had been going all afternoon for the round of the south, and placed them in the center pit. The door closed, and I had to fight for a while with myself not to panic as I sat in the total darkness, temperature climbing, sweat already pouring off my face. They slowly began to pour water onto the stones one by one. Incense and herbs billowing off the pit filled the lodge with acrid and tempting steam. Then the music began, and we sang and chanted and called out to all things.

According to many traditions, to the medicine wheel, the south is a time of freedom, of play, of joy, of fire, of music, of passion, of rebellion, of youth, of red heat. This round was joyful, spontaneous, and free. We sang and screamed and yelled. We called out to our inner children, and howled at the moon. The south was exuberance, with little thought to the looming presence of the rapidly encroaching West and North. I danced in the south, and smiled wickedly. It was over too soon.

The round of the west brought figurative sundown, responsibility, facing dragons and demons. West brought the work of introspection, and a turning in my stomach. I sat in the hottest spot for this round apparently, directly in line with the fire and the pit filled now with an additional 4 stones. The west dropped all pretense of unbridled happiness, and instead faced the real personal and intense work that comes with darkness. I wanted to hide my face and make it be over.

North is winter, white, somber, and the hint of rebirth and renewal. North is taking on the dragons that you discover in the West. North is serious and a bit scary, with all sorts of talk about the people and things that have harmed you, the traumas which we have all lived through, and the damage which has been done. North is facing up to all of the little broken pieces of ourselves, and acknowledging the pain before stepping past it. North took that lump in my throat and stone in my stomach, and sort of forced it to the surface. My dragon? Twofold I think. One I already sort of mentioned, that is all of the people and things (including myself) that take advantage of my compassion and sap the life and joy from me in exchange for taking on others' responsibility and survival as my own. The other is I'm sure related, though I haven't quite completely traced the lineage yet. My dragon is my insecurity and lack of self-confidence, my inner critic that tells me its never good enough and that I am some what of a fraud. That I don't deserve to feel the way I feel and experience what I am going through. North was a wild and primeval bloody ride.

East is the coming of spring, of sunrise, the return of green, of rebirth. East brings wisdom and expects one to guide others. East was the end of our transformation that evening, as we sang and chanted our way into a new world which we would create for ourselves. East was endless, hot, and humbling. I spent most of it with my forehead flat on the ground in front of me, too completely overcome to sing more than a few words at a time. I don't remember what I said I would take with me, though I'm sure it had something to do with confidence, empathy, compassion, strength, endurance, passion, commitment. When it was finally over, with the doors blessedly open, we crawled out one by one, stopping at the threshold to intone the Lakota prayer "Aho Mitakuye Oyasin," our head to the earth pausing to all of our relations, that we are all related.

I stumbled out into the night air, totally and completely overcome by all that had just come to pass. I crawled maybe ten feet to the far side of the fire, and lay on my back looking skyward. The palms of my hands and the soles of my feet dug into the soil, and I swear I could feel the Earth pulsating. My whole body tingled as energy flow through me freely from head to foot and hand to hand and from sky and fire and breeze and stars. I lay there until I realized I was shivering, then forced myself to get up and change into dry clothes. I would have laid their for hours, for once completely and totally present, all four lines aligned and just filled up with the immensity of it all.

I wasn't myself for a few hours after leaving the sweat. I think about it a lot, try to harness the things I allowed myself to say, the things I silently intoned, the throbbing of emotion and intention in that space. I am in so many ways terrified about dealing with the students, but in that place it was meaningless. I am where I should be, I deserve the life I've made for myself.