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.
Monday, December 01, 2008
Saturday, November 29, 2008
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!!
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!!
Thursday, November 27, 2008
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.
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.
Sunday, November 16, 2008
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
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
Thursday, November 13, 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.
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.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
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.
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.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
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.
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.
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