Each day, I'd like to think I learn something new... about myself, about this small town and/or Montana, about the girls, about my job... you get the point. Here's a list of things I've learned so far:
- It takes me twice as long to get home at night than during the day... thank you mr. deer.
- You can tell fall photos from spring photos by the lines of snow on the mountains. In the fall the snow cuts across the mountains in a straight line, working its way from the top on down, until winter (i.e. snow in the valley and all around). I presently experience this as the great big snow monster creeping closer and closer, waiting to swallow me whole. In the spring, as the snow melts there is no straight line but patches of snow left in places the sun can't reach (I'm already looking forward to this).
- I'm not as cold natured as I thought... I'm handling the cool weather quite well, despite my fear of "real" winter arriving and the aforementioned snow monster.
- Texas winter = Montana fall
- Sophie is my best friend and I am hers. We run laps around the yard when I get home; sometimes I chase her, sometimes she chases me - each of us in our sweaters. I imagine we're quite the sight if we had any witnesses to our silly behavior.
- I was right about cable TV... as much as I despise it, I have little willpower against it.
- Bear spray is NOT the same size as your run of the mill keychain mace!
- Some evergreen trees turn yellow and drop needles! Technically they are Larch trees in the conifer family... I think. I still need a tree book!
- While not an official holiday, two days out of the year for each Montanan is SNOW TIRE DAY. One day in the winter when you swap out your summer time wheels for a nice set of ice-safe studs... or something, and one day in the spring when you do the reverse.
- Beavers make a LOT of dams!
- The woman who offers Reiki healing in Eureka also communicates with animals... and YES, I plan on taking Sophie for a visit.
Now, I'm sure I've missed some key lessons learned, but I'll start there. You can periodically expect similar lists of fun facts and "why didn't common sense tell me that" discoveries.
As for my experience? Well, I imagine making a move like this requires a similar process as going through the stages of grief. Now, let it be known, I am NOT comparing my move to actual grief (though I think I do grieve my old life), but rather that I think there will be stages for me in order to process this new life.
Stage 1 was superficial homesickness. I felt it as soon as I arrived and for the first 2 weeks. It's a constant questioning and doubting if this is real "Did I really move to Montana?" and a constant feeling of wanting to be back in your old home with familiar faces, Sunday Strum day (Cherrywoodies, that's what I'm calling Sunday mornings with Eva strumming on the couch, jump on board), Tuesday Art club, el chilito within blocks, and heat.
Stage 2 and 3 I think overlap and will be continuous.
Stage 2 is adjust and be amazed. Everything is new and interesting (even when you know you wouldn't give a damn about a similar event back where you came from. Example: woman at tire store has 2 Maltese - you would think we were long lost friends; or horses pass gas while trotting - makes enough sense but somehow amazed me when I first heard it).
Stage 3 is legitimate homesickness and a sick feeling you're in the wrong place even though you know you just have to ride it out. And you're riding it out, not out of pride but out of a deep knowing that it really will be ok; and that this really was a good decision. It's an aching curiosity about what everyone else is doing back home... and yes, I know that it's probably the same thing they were doing when I left, but it doesn't make it any easier. Perhaps this isn't a stage for everyone; those of you who have unyielding self-confidence... you probably don't have to suffer at this one... grrrrr! It's a feeling that you are totally inadequate for the job you're given (despite the other voice in your head saying "you are exactly where you are supposed to be" and you CHOSE this job).
I've struggled throughout my life with a fear that people would "figure me out;" discover that I'm not as charming as I put on or that I'm not as skilled at my job as they think or that I'm really just a scared child who never learned how to trust herself. Well, there it is... figured.out. And yet, I don't know if it's true. Every time I have this thought it's followed up by a day when I feel totally in control of my life or at least comfortable with the lack of control.
It's funny though. As I sit here typing away, gushing my feelings where I probably shouldn't, I glanced at an email I just received from my sister asking "where did you learn to be so self-confident?" I even fooled her. My very own sister, who I trust with my fears and hopes... and who trusts hers to me. Does this mean she doesn't know me or does it mean that I don't know myself to the point of even putting on a front with my flesh and blood, my plutonic beshert? I am constantly around people who are figuring themselves out. Learning about why they have difficulty with trust, control, or security. I can't help but wonder, how am I to help them when I haven't even figured this out for myself? And yet, the 15 years I've got on these girls allow me to recognize that we will never fully have ourselves figured out. And, that part of the amusement that is "life" is constantly learning from the mistakes, the accidents, the screw ups, and the curve balls that are thrown at us every time we think we've got it figured out.
Additional stages TBD.
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
The Lonely Forest
Flying 8,000 feet above the Flathead and Tobacco Valleys, few lights broke the horizon and the ground below was an empty space... a vast forest below us which a few hours prior was sprinkled with turquoise colored lakes and golden trees. As my eyes attempted to make out the shape of mountains to the east and west - the Salish Range to the west and the Whitefish Range to the east - I did not feel alone, as I expected to feel on this day. The brightness of the moon dimmed the stars and made fields look like fog clouds in the valley - the ones I see each morning, reminding me of the last weeks in Italy... changing colors on the rolling hills with pillows floating around in the crevices and valleys. At times, I am drawn to investigate this fog as it has a gray tint to it and gives the illusion that it is starting at one point in the forest and is in fact a forest fire.... which it is not.
Enough about clouds and fog... today is my birthday. Leading up to it I didn't think much of it (which is surprising for me because I usually celebrate for the whole week). Yesterday, however, as I sat around a room full of unfamiliar faces - though kind and warm - I realized the only two people in the room who knew my birthday was coming were my bosses. Then it hit me... I am alone... on my birthday... a day that I have spent dining on the Champs Elysees, salsa dancing, house partying, surprise partying, hostessing, pinata busting - all with the amazing people in my life. Strangely though, on the way home from Whitefish, where my bosses flew me in their personal plane to treat me to dinner, I looked below at the lonely forest and knew I was not alone. I could feel the warmth and love sent to me by friends and family.
Earlier in the day I came home to check on Sophie and discovered a box with boxes inside.... a few of my sneaky little friends and family gathered up cold weather gear, homemade crafts, and self-made video messages... in one package people in 2 different states and 4 different cities coordinated the ultimate care package. Countless friends sent me love by mail, text, and facebook, and each time I received such a gift I felt surrounded by love. The thoughtfulness behind each message and token brought with it the realization that no matter where I am in life I always have friends by my side and their spirits within me.
I offer my most sincere gratitude to you all. I am glad I was born in order to witness true friendships in each of you.
Enough about clouds and fog... today is my birthday. Leading up to it I didn't think much of it (which is surprising for me because I usually celebrate for the whole week). Yesterday, however, as I sat around a room full of unfamiliar faces - though kind and warm - I realized the only two people in the room who knew my birthday was coming were my bosses. Then it hit me... I am alone... on my birthday... a day that I have spent dining on the Champs Elysees, salsa dancing, house partying, surprise partying, hostessing, pinata busting - all with the amazing people in my life. Strangely though, on the way home from Whitefish, where my bosses flew me in their personal plane to treat me to dinner, I looked below at the lonely forest and knew I was not alone. I could feel the warmth and love sent to me by friends and family.
Earlier in the day I came home to check on Sophie and discovered a box with boxes inside.... a few of my sneaky little friends and family gathered up cold weather gear, homemade crafts, and self-made video messages... in one package people in 2 different states and 4 different cities coordinated the ultimate care package. Countless friends sent me love by mail, text, and facebook, and each time I received such a gift I felt surrounded by love. The thoughtfulness behind each message and token brought with it the realization that no matter where I am in life I always have friends by my side and their spirits within me.
I offer my most sincere gratitude to you all. I am glad I was born in order to witness true friendships in each of you.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Purpose... quite simply
There is a word used by the girls; one that allows a person to agree with what someone has already said without the need to repeat the same point. They call the process "economy of speech." The word is ECHO.
I moved to Montana to work at a therapeutic boarding school for girls. My desire to learn how our natural environment assists in healing - whether by simply removing toxins from our urban bodies or enlightening our spirit and soul - is what brought me here. I have to say that in my first days alone, in this small town, on the edge of wilderness (quite seriously - it is not uncommon to see a black bear scavenging in yards and a grizzly in the higher altitudes just miles away) I realized that I made this decision quite abruptly. Within four weeks my dog, Sophie, and I were injected into a world we know very little about. I spent the four days it took to get here thinking about this lack of knowledge... how do you dress for negative 20 degrees? how do I keep owls from eating my dog as a midnight snack? will there be tortillas? will there be GOOD tortillas? and what about friends? will I ever be surrounded by such positive people again? can I live in a place with only one bar in town? how does one fend off a bear? can snow boots be stylish and practical? I reminded myself what great "self-awareness" I would develop with so much time alone in the quiet of the woods. I imagined a Barbara Kingsolver-like existence - one in which I chop my own wood, catch my own fish, and shear the wool I'll spin into yarn, then crochet into socks. I envisioned a path of emotional growth as I essentially exiled myself to the woods. With all these questions and doubts and fantasies, I almost completely forgot to think about the job I was brought here to do - provide therapy to teenage girls living in a community built around a belief in nurturance, healthy boundaries, healthy lifestyle, fun, trust, and hope.
I've been here two weeks now and settling in has had its ups and downs - as expected. When at work, however, I feel a sense of purpose and liveliness. I have had the privilege of sitting in on several "circles," which is their word for group therapy. The hope is that I can see the different therapists' styles and get to know the girls so that I may transition more smoothly into my own circles in the future. So far, I am brought to tears at least once each circle. These are not my easy flowing tears of self concern; these are tears of awe and gratitude (and a secret wish that I had been so enlightened at 16!). Who impressed upon these girls the importance of assertiveness, compassion, and community? Who encouraged them to take ownership of the present moment? Where did they gain wisdom beyond their years? The answer is simple... they taught each other. Correction: they are teaching each other.
I always intended to create a blog in order to chronicle this experience, examine the lessons I learn in this new land, and reveal the serenity produced by being in such close proximity to nature. However, I'd be willing to bet that my journey of personal growth will come more from the little community of girls with whom I have the privilege of working than from solitary walks in the wilderness and thoughtful examinations of philosophical books I've always intended to read. I imagine that this growth will come from the moments when I open my mouth and utter echo.
I moved to Montana to work at a therapeutic boarding school for girls. My desire to learn how our natural environment assists in healing - whether by simply removing toxins from our urban bodies or enlightening our spirit and soul - is what brought me here. I have to say that in my first days alone, in this small town, on the edge of wilderness (quite seriously - it is not uncommon to see a black bear scavenging in yards and a grizzly in the higher altitudes just miles away) I realized that I made this decision quite abruptly. Within four weeks my dog, Sophie, and I were injected into a world we know very little about. I spent the four days it took to get here thinking about this lack of knowledge... how do you dress for negative 20 degrees? how do I keep owls from eating my dog as a midnight snack? will there be tortillas? will there be GOOD tortillas? and what about friends? will I ever be surrounded by such positive people again? can I live in a place with only one bar in town? how does one fend off a bear? can snow boots be stylish and practical? I reminded myself what great "self-awareness" I would develop with so much time alone in the quiet of the woods. I imagined a Barbara Kingsolver-like existence - one in which I chop my own wood, catch my own fish, and shear the wool I'll spin into yarn, then crochet into socks. I envisioned a path of emotional growth as I essentially exiled myself to the woods. With all these questions and doubts and fantasies, I almost completely forgot to think about the job I was brought here to do - provide therapy to teenage girls living in a community built around a belief in nurturance, healthy boundaries, healthy lifestyle, fun, trust, and hope.
I've been here two weeks now and settling in has had its ups and downs - as expected. When at work, however, I feel a sense of purpose and liveliness. I have had the privilege of sitting in on several "circles," which is their word for group therapy. The hope is that I can see the different therapists' styles and get to know the girls so that I may transition more smoothly into my own circles in the future. So far, I am brought to tears at least once each circle. These are not my easy flowing tears of self concern; these are tears of awe and gratitude (and a secret wish that I had been so enlightened at 16!). Who impressed upon these girls the importance of assertiveness, compassion, and community? Who encouraged them to take ownership of the present moment? Where did they gain wisdom beyond their years? The answer is simple... they taught each other. Correction: they are teaching each other.
I always intended to create a blog in order to chronicle this experience, examine the lessons I learn in this new land, and reveal the serenity produced by being in such close proximity to nature. However, I'd be willing to bet that my journey of personal growth will come more from the little community of girls with whom I have the privilege of working than from solitary walks in the wilderness and thoughtful examinations of philosophical books I've always intended to read. I imagine that this growth will come from the moments when I open my mouth and utter echo.
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