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.