gathering no moss,... yet

This is a tougher entry to write for me. My last trip to Colorado caught me a little off guard. Under my armor slipped a recognition that I struggle with commitment, am a bit reluctant with intimacy, and have gypsied my way through life. I don't acknowledge this with self-condemnation as much as sadness. As I prepared to pack my bags last Monday morning in anticipation of my red-eye flight that night to Boston (after a wonderful and full week in Colorado) I heard a voice within me register on my radar: "I am so DONE with leaving. I am sick of saying 'goodbye'." I am encircled by a wonderful community in Colorado, I have a growing circle in New England, and I am very attached to my family in Ontario. On top of that, there are dear friends sprinkled around the planet whom I consider 'keepers'.

I have lived in the following locales. If there is a number bracketed after the location, it means I lived in a number of places within that community: Woodstock, NB; Holland (2); Woodstock, NB; Presqu'ile, ME; Chester, NS; Mahone Bay, NS; Terra Cotta, ON; Waterloo, ON; Terra Cotta, ON; Peterborough, ON (4); Lytton, BC; Nelson, BC; Lytton, BC; Nelson, BC; Lytton, BC; Victoria, BC; Canmore, AB; Ontario; Fernie, BC (3); Boulder, CO (5), Barnet, VT. That's around 30 moves in 39 years. Less than I thought but still a lot.

For a number of reasons, it's easier for me to go than it is for me to stay. I once had some pride about this fact. Now I'm unsettled. I travel light. I fall in love readily with many beings but I let go easily, not so much out of rejection but from a desire to move forward. I struggle with suffocation. I long for deep connection and yet react with anxiety to too much closeness. What a pickle. Now I am living in a part of the planet that really resonates with my system; in New England I feel at home. I love the pastures, the forests, the mountains, the weather, and the pace of life here. I want to settle down. I wish to grow lighter wings and deeper roots. I want this land to be my home and I want to weave myself into the community here, personally and professionally.

Perhaps awareness is key as many Gestalt theorists and practitioners have declared. Being more aware of my proclivities allows me to notice when discomfort arises with regard to feeling stuck and wanting out. I don't regret any of the experiences I've had nor would I give up any of the people and homes I've known. But now I'd like to explore the depth rather than the breadth available through this human experience.

As it turns out, the next chapter of my journey unfolds this week coming. I will move into a job as a Clinical Co-ordinator/Supervisor at a transition home for adolescents based out of Jefferson, NH (http://www.nafi.com/ and then click on NFI North at the bottom). I'm excited and nervous. I am still searching for a residence and sleeping in my tent. Fear not, I don't plan on living in my tent this winter -- something will come along. It always has... 30 homes don't lie.

natural born killer

I celebrated my friend's birthday while visiting Colorado over the past week by participating in "Lazer Tag" (and other assorted amusements). Indeed, something takes over me when I get a gun-like contraption in my hands; all of a sudden I develop a thirst for blood! In both games I revelled in being the high-scorer (similar to my ridiculous ego-boost for making good driving time between point A and point B) as proof of..... what exactly? Running through the darkened course, hiding behind barriers, the adrenaline pumped through my body, my mind unable or unwilling to discern the difference between pretend and real-life -- see previous post, what is reality anyway?

A few times over the last month or so I have considered setting myself up with a heavy bag or a membership at a boxing gym. Even as I sit and meditate 2 hours a day and similarly spend inordinate hours peacefully walking through the woods and enjoying the silence, something in my system yearns for an aggressive outlet. Is this neurotic? natural? healthy? Am I feeding a monster or soothing a beast? It's more than just being physical, although when I was digging up garden beds I noticed my aggressive tendencies were at least otherwise exhausted. My energy likes to come up against the boundaries of another and spar there -- I liken this feeling to spreading my wings and feeling my full span of energy and movement. There's nothing personal in this activity. It's not a statement or reflection about how I feel about my adversary. In fact, it feels to me more like extending an invitation to another to 'dance', to push against, to meet self through the flushing out of strength, energy, and movement.

Perhaps this is in some ways connected to the origins of the tango or waltz; self and other, the exploration of passion and boundaries through movement and meeting. As a warring species, we might do well to explore this drive further, open our individual and collective minds to how this shadow element of aggression can be more relationally and contactfully embodied for true resolution.

"Reality is merely an illusion...

...albeit a very persistent one." This is a quote from one of the finest 'minds' of our modern era. Albert Einstein knew there was more to life than even his brain could encompass and explain. I have been revisiting some of the experience of a blog I wrote a while back, the one about swimming out to the sea, responding to the call of Sirens. This was not a nihilistic compulsion. Quite the opposite, I believe it was a call to leave behind all that I believe to be true and enter more courageously into the Mystery.

I have taken up reading an author who has inspired me further along this path. John O'Donohue (philosopher, poet, scholar, lyricist) is guiding me as I explore this idea of SOUL; what is a soul? does it exist? for what purpose? Perhaps part of my journey that began in September (if one can indeed mark the beginning of a change) was for me about becoming more intimate with my soul. In Anam Cara, O'Donohue writes:

"Trusting the more prenumbral dimension (soul) brings us to new places in the human adventure. But we have to let go in order to be, we have to stop forcing ourselves, or we will never enter our own belonging...One of the things that is absolutely essential is silence, the other is solitude." (p.98)

I don't believe that one can think their way to an understanding of their soul. I can make lists, analyze situations, choices, circumstances, and history and nothing brings the Mystery to light. Indeed, I have begun to appreciate more and more how light and dark play in this world of discovery and secrets; how valuable the secrets are to maintaining aliveness in the present. I shiver a bit as I think about my past work as a therapist and how I was hungry and driven to throw on all the lights in order to help someone understand their life circumstances. The garden has taught me a great deal about ripening and how there is a time, an intelligence, and a grace to unfolding.

On a more concrete level, I am including some photos taken last weekend, hiking with my friend, Becky, and her 2 dogs in the White Mountains. My skill and technology cannot do justice to the feeling of walking through the woods and coming out on a rock outcropping and watching as the sun sets behind the mountains to the west.

I am still very much enjoying sleeping in my tent (granted the weather has been very kind). On Thursday this week I will fly, once again, for a week-long visit to Colorado - hoping to do some work as a therapist and also reconnect with my friends and community there. I am aware that my life has gone from 4 phones and constant internet access (30-50 emails + 10-20 phone calls daily) to 2 hours a day of sitting, 6 hours of gardening, and dishes. I don't want to lose the solitude and stillness I have cultivated in my life. I do wish to invite back working with people; I want to see how I can incorporate some of my learnings into the privilege of sitting with people as they awaken and ripen.

horses, kitty cats, puppy dog, birds

An exciting, satisfying, gratifying, relaxing, and wonder-filled time in southern Quebec this past weekend. June and I (check engine light on) travelled north of the border to visit with Jane and her excellent 'family' of hoofed, pawed, and clawed beings.

For those who don't know, I've generally been frightened and awed by horses. Jane tells me that horses can see through our masks. Perhaps I know this intuitively and freak out because I can't fake my way into their hearts. I think it also has something to do with history. I had the delight of growing up with an obstinate pony named Dusty who took perverse pleasure in hurting small children. On top of that, our family owned a few high strung Thoroughbreds who similarly had little patience for awkward youths. If you've ever considered getting your children involved with horses, please follow the advice of Jane: have them take lessons for a few years, get them involved with horse care at a nearby farm, and then, when they're 16 or older, go halfsies, maybe.

Horses, even moreso that doggies, need a great deal of space, knowledge, time, energy, training, and care. And they need other horses. They're a herding animal, right? So many of us, particularly women, are drawn to horses. I could share my thoughts on why this is but it would probably just give you unnecessary insights into my own psyche and neuroses. I'm grateful for people like Jane who have put their passion, time, and energy into really being with horses so as to provide a link and access point for the rest of us.

Case in point: Yesterday the sky turned black in the middle of the afternoon and a torrential system moved across the skies and accosted the farm and surrounding area. The horses came in from the fields to seek protection. Jane opened the door to the indoor arena and we all came together under one roof (8 adult horses, 2 foals, 2 women, 2 cats, 1 dog). The air was electric and the winds and rain unleased on the outside walls of the arena. The horses started moving and I could feel myself holding my breath, my eye to the exit. Some nicked and kicked at each other, some rose up on their hind legs, some raced around shaking their heads, whinnying. Jane sat calmly and quietly on a white plastic chair near the middle with the 2 cats on her lap. My eyes were saucers and I kept my body close to the open door in the event of needing to escape. I played with relaxing. I played with re-establishing my ground underneath me. I played with how much power and energy there was in one enclosed area. I liken it to sitting on a surfboard, looking out to sea, watching the building and collapsing of 30 foot waves rolling towards me. I wanted to surrender and simply enjoy this much energy so close. Part of me stayed present and part of me felt compelled to disassociate a bit to moderate the arousal and fear in my system.

While my natural horsemanship skills leave much to be desired, as the weekend progressed I felt noticeably more at ease moving around the horses. And for the most part, the horses were very patient as I learned. I am remembering a suggestion I offer to parents who struggle with holding their ground around their rebellious teenagers: "Don't pretend to be something you're not. Name your experience, own it, make contact with it. Don't make it your child's job to fix how you're feeling. Then you can find your ground from that place of authenticity. And don't stop breathing!"

Thank you, Jane, for sharing your gifts with me.