We
We who are the prodigious children of the 80’s
Progeny of the Baby Boomers
Well-bred
Well read
Well educated on the thoughts of rich white men
We have been provided with the teats of an economic boom
Suckling lulls us to sleep
Snoring even as we eat
We have a hard time spurning the milk we were raised on.
And we yearn for revolution
We yearn for the day that life is so intolerable that we pack our bags and head for the train station
Buy a ticket to who-the-hell-knows
Fast.
Sleep on bus station floors next to the homeless philosopher and pastor bum
From whom we will learn life’s secrets,
to whom we will confess the matter of our privilege
And curled up with the pile of dirt from the push broom’s ceaseless sweeping
We are worried that this hurt is perhaps what we deserve
But we’ll never say it because we are the Ivy educated golden but decimated
children of the 80’s.
Finding ourselves. Finding our spot in a world that cries out for revolution so badly with each creak and groan and honk and yet those of us who
have the time and space and youth and energy
We are the prodigious, sacreligious children of the 80’s
We are the children of the American cheese product
Of the NFL
The woodchuck mini-van
So now,
We experiment with giving away our possessions. We experiment with the isms and trappings of the ability to choose to experiment with the isms and trappings. We wear our causes on our sleeves.
Our hearts hurt, but our heads hurt more.
We beat them against the stop lights as the green urges us forward, ever forward.
We grieve. But we grieve silently, quietly, shamefully because we fear that if someone were to hear us, the sniffling from the back stall of that bus station bathroom, that they might call us out as the polluted revolutionaries that we are.
We are tainted commanders. We constantly look over our shoulders in the perpetual fear that they will know,
That they will know that we were breastfed by the enemy herself.
That they will look in our closets and see our shoes. Worse yet, that they might glance into our cars (our cars!) and find the detritus from a covert McDonald’s expedition. Are we the hypocrites, whose Newman’s Own coffee cup with sleeve and plastic top lie next to the dumpstered Odwalla bars and homemade hummus container?
….
(to be continued…)
Friday, January 22, 2010
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
At it again?
Hey all,
Sometimes, when I'm tired, I think it would all be a hell of a lot easier if I could just put my backpack to bed and stay awhile.
I think of the Wednesday night dinner that's happening in Portland as I write - the community that has formed through a simple presence in each other's lives, weekly, and with food.
I think of nights falling asleep on the day bed with my best friends playing the guitar, or talking, or falling asleep as well - all around me.
I think of the little farm in the winter, and the new ski trail, and the woodstove. I think of the feeling that house has when its just full enough with brothers and parents and grandparents.
I think of what I've come to know as "home" - something I sought for so long, something I ascribed to people, to places. I think of what it means to know that you are "from" somewhere - that once you know, you only desire to know it more.
But then I realize that I have only come to know home through the process of going away - because each time I do it challenges me to peel off a new layer, to go deeper with my connections, with my place - to commit more totally to the people that make up that community. And so I'm back at it - and as I call each new family and talk to each new girl, and read their applications about what they're looking for and why they're traveling, I remember wanting nothing more than to seek my place in a world I didn't understand, find my work in a world that seemed to have so much work to be done. So the same giddy excited feeling of knowing that I get to embark on a 15 week adventure with teenage girls who are just trying to sort out where they fit, whose minds are about to be blown, who are seeking a challenge and an excitement and an interconnection that they don't even have proof exists - but somehow still know to seek it. And I remember that its not for me anymore - I'm not the one seeking. I've found what I'm looking for. I'm facilitating the process of others seeking. And perhaps despite the fact that I've found what I'm looking for, I have no doubt that the next few months are going to flip that over and spin it on its head - to remind me that holding to tightly to the way something looked before might not let it be what it actually is.
And so I'm back in Bozeman, packing and prepping and psyching up to travel yet again. And it could be for a week, it could be for two months, it could be for a year - it doesn't matter. The challenge is to be present - neither by thinking that it will be so long until I return home, or by letting myself slide into the comfort of telling myself "it will go by so fast..."
So here I am. Staying with Gen and Taylor and Zane and Roam - witnessing the way they parent their two incredible boys with an amazing amount of patience and humor. Naked and potty-training Roam pooped on his chair at the dinner table tonight. I think years of traveling lets you see the humor in that. Gen jokes that if you can handle the logistics of the Traveling School, that only then can you handle the logistics of parenting.
Prepping, calling parents, talking to girls, imagining teacher dynamics and orientation, trying to think of the little details and then trying not to let the little details take over the big picture.
So I'm here. The rest of the teachers start on Monday and we dive into orientation. We fly to Miami on Jan 31, meet our girls on the 1st, and fly out on the 2nd. Our itinerary looks roughly as follows:
Ecuador:
Week 1-2: Hacienda Guachala, Cayambe (north of Quito) - Student Orientation, beginning classes
Week 3: Otavalo Spanish Institute - Spanish Intensive
Week 4: Agualongo - Rural homestays in an indigenous village, with whom TTS has a long relationship
Week 5-6: Tena and the Amazon
Week 7-8: Guayaquil and the Galapagos
Week 9: Montanitas, Surfing
Peru:
Week 10: Huaraz, Santa Cruz trek (awesome backpacking section)
Week 11-12: Cusco, Inca Trail, Machu Picchu
Week 13: Puno, Lake Titicaca
Bolivia:
Week 14: Copacabana
Week 15: La Paz, Mountaineering!
So that's where we're at! Follow along, it promises to be a hell of an adventure.
I have been so unbelievably blessed by the presence and support of the people that I have in my life. Thank you each of you - whether I've known you for 20 years or 3 months, you know who you are - for holding the space for me to go and return.
And I almost wrote to ask you to pardon my sappiness, but no! You're going to get what I'm thinking about here - should be raw.
Much love,
Heather
Sometimes, when I'm tired, I think it would all be a hell of a lot easier if I could just put my backpack to bed and stay awhile.
I think of the Wednesday night dinner that's happening in Portland as I write - the community that has formed through a simple presence in each other's lives, weekly, and with food.
I think of nights falling asleep on the day bed with my best friends playing the guitar, or talking, or falling asleep as well - all around me.
I think of the little farm in the winter, and the new ski trail, and the woodstove. I think of the feeling that house has when its just full enough with brothers and parents and grandparents.
I think of what I've come to know as "home" - something I sought for so long, something I ascribed to people, to places. I think of what it means to know that you are "from" somewhere - that once you know, you only desire to know it more.
But then I realize that I have only come to know home through the process of going away - because each time I do it challenges me to peel off a new layer, to go deeper with my connections, with my place - to commit more totally to the people that make up that community. And so I'm back at it - and as I call each new family and talk to each new girl, and read their applications about what they're looking for and why they're traveling, I remember wanting nothing more than to seek my place in a world I didn't understand, find my work in a world that seemed to have so much work to be done. So the same giddy excited feeling of knowing that I get to embark on a 15 week adventure with teenage girls who are just trying to sort out where they fit, whose minds are about to be blown, who are seeking a challenge and an excitement and an interconnection that they don't even have proof exists - but somehow still know to seek it. And I remember that its not for me anymore - I'm not the one seeking. I've found what I'm looking for. I'm facilitating the process of others seeking. And perhaps despite the fact that I've found what I'm looking for, I have no doubt that the next few months are going to flip that over and spin it on its head - to remind me that holding to tightly to the way something looked before might not let it be what it actually is.
And so I'm back in Bozeman, packing and prepping and psyching up to travel yet again. And it could be for a week, it could be for two months, it could be for a year - it doesn't matter. The challenge is to be present - neither by thinking that it will be so long until I return home, or by letting myself slide into the comfort of telling myself "it will go by so fast..."
So here I am. Staying with Gen and Taylor and Zane and Roam - witnessing the way they parent their two incredible boys with an amazing amount of patience and humor. Naked and potty-training Roam pooped on his chair at the dinner table tonight. I think years of traveling lets you see the humor in that. Gen jokes that if you can handle the logistics of the Traveling School, that only then can you handle the logistics of parenting.
Prepping, calling parents, talking to girls, imagining teacher dynamics and orientation, trying to think of the little details and then trying not to let the little details take over the big picture.
So I'm here. The rest of the teachers start on Monday and we dive into orientation. We fly to Miami on Jan 31, meet our girls on the 1st, and fly out on the 2nd. Our itinerary looks roughly as follows:
Ecuador:
Week 1-2: Hacienda Guachala, Cayambe (north of Quito) - Student Orientation, beginning classes
Week 3: Otavalo Spanish Institute - Spanish Intensive
Week 4: Agualongo - Rural homestays in an indigenous village, with whom TTS has a long relationship
Week 5-6: Tena and the Amazon
Week 7-8: Guayaquil and the Galapagos
Week 9: Montanitas, Surfing
Peru:
Week 10: Huaraz, Santa Cruz trek (awesome backpacking section)
Week 11-12: Cusco, Inca Trail, Machu Picchu
Week 13: Puno, Lake Titicaca
Bolivia:
Week 14: Copacabana
Week 15: La Paz, Mountaineering!
So that's where we're at! Follow along, it promises to be a hell of an adventure.
I have been so unbelievably blessed by the presence and support of the people that I have in my life. Thank you each of you - whether I've known you for 20 years or 3 months, you know who you are - for holding the space for me to go and return.
And I almost wrote to ask you to pardon my sappiness, but no! You're going to get what I'm thinking about here - should be raw.
Much love,
Heather
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