It’s the time of year where toes begin to tingle, fingers fidget and motivation gets muffled by the anticipation of summer and what comes Post AmeriCorps (as if that wasn’t already nipping at my conscious enough). Our supervisor Meghann, having been one of us years ago, is all too aware of the burn-out factor and so she has traditionally organized a sort of team retreat weekend around this time, under the guise of our SMACed Training required by the program officials. SMACed stands for Self Marketing and….Asset something Education. Obviously, we totally emphasize on this during the weekend.
Really, its a bonding opportunity coupled with some casual discussion about life after AmeriCorps.
Last year, the team voted to have our SMACed weekend at Camp Indianola in a small town of the same name which rests right along the Puget Sound. It’s a gorgeous area and it was no contest that we voted to return for this year’s “training.”
I recalled last year’s experience with some resentment towards my health; I’d muddled through with severe discomfort most days and donned a fractured wrist that furthered my physical malaise and distance from the joyful bonding energy of the team. This year however, my anxiety was founded more in the social sphere. I arrived with my best intentions and hopes, not focusing on the past experiences and the fact we’d all been “out of practice” with one another over the spring break. However, my apprehensive optimism was quickly squashed within the first couple of hours.
Team meals are a divided responsibility throughout the weekend and Ariella and I had chosen to cook our first dinner. Given my food limitations, I was super excited for our meal, one of the only group dishes I’d be able to participate in. After a busy day of errands and commuting from Seattle, I’d only grazed here and there. As Ariella and I began filling our kitchen with curry aromas, the team rolled in and started stocking our fridge with some good cheer for later, which sparked our desire to go on a similar mission while our food finished cooking. Knowing that we wouldn’t be back from the store before food was ready, we told others they should feel free to start eating.
If there is one dangerous habit to fracture a team, I’ve learned that it is assumption. It’s ridiculously easy to assume that certain outlooks or choices of action you would hold or make are a given for everyone else. That night, we had assumed that making sure there was food left for us would be common practice. Apparently, others had assumed we would have eaten out while getting groceries.
Energy shifted dramatically the moment I peered into the near-empty pot. Voicing our frustration was met with spite, as though we not only had no reason, but no right to be bothered. The rest of the evening was icy. I quietly journaled once I realized there would be no meeting me half way when I attempted to sit with the group. It was an early night.
Meghann began our training the next day with group expectations. I’d tried to let the incident before be water under the bridge but felt it was appropriate to include related feelings to our list that was mostly being comprised of happy-go-lucky answers and jokes about forest animals. Ariella added “make sure everyone gets firsts” and I simply added “Don’t assume.” That was that. No conversation. The tension was super high.
Next on our agenda was interview practices. We were to have conversations with one another about what advice we had for interviewing skills. It felt like a minefield outside as I tried to pair up with people I felt I could be neutral with.
The activity was fitting for what was coming next. Part of the training this year required each of us to come up with an “asset training”. We were to choose a subject or skill we felt we could teach or contribute some sort of insight to and then do a 10-15 minute session with the team. I was to be the first one up and I was beginning to feel like I was preparing for an interview with a panel of eleven.
I’d originally planned to teach how to make pickles and Kefir; basically, cultured foods. When we’d all given suggestions on what we thought the other could teach us, a lot of the responses I got were about healthy foods and yoga. The more I’d thought about it though, the more meaningless it felt. Those responses were just based on a superficial understanding of who people thought I was. Half the group would probably have cared less about knowing how to make pickles. The morning I’d left for Seattle, I sat in the coffee shop to jot some last minute notes about probiotics and instead, I pulled up a blank powerpoint and wrote: Imprints: A Talk. And that was that. I launched into a stream of consciousness, doing my best to compile a concise, laymen’s glimpse into my head and the various mental and emotional levels I’d come to define as my journey through health and how intertwined it is with spirit and the full person. I managed to link my tangents to photography as the cornerstone of showing evolution of the journey and by the end, felt confidant that I’d chosen the right talk.
Now however, after the night before, my “interview” butterflies were sky-high and the closer we got to the talk, the worse they got. Essentially, I was interviewing to have a deeper part of myself be accepted by a group who already disdained the surface idea of who they thought I was. Tough gig.
The talk went fairly well. I felt I could have had a more coherent presentation if I hadn’t chosen it last minute but overall, I covered most of what I intended to, I didn’t stumble or draw a blank, and I didn’t cry (so, maybe I came close.) The response was lots of quiet but respectfully so, and regardless of the reception, I was already feeling like I could breathe better. My talk was followed by Ariella’s ‘Laughter Yoga’ which sealed the deal for me. A retreat that had, by no stretch of the imagination, felt like a segregated prison, was finally feeling more like a retreat. Laughter Yoga ended with something called an ‘Angel Walk’ in which everyone takes turns walking down an aisle formed by their teammates as we all voice compliments to them. I nervous pang returned as I got ready for my turn. I imagined superficial comments, awkward pauses, or simply “I can’t think of anything” but I was graciously surprised by the comments I received, some pertaining directly to the impact of my talk. I was equally surprised by myself as I found the nuggets of my highest appreciations for each individual.
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| Laughing pile during Laughter Yoga |
The rest of the weekend’s trainings were equally inspiring and it felt like each one stayed true to showing each person’s authentic passions. Kerissa cleverly transformed us each into dog breeds, Erika and Brenda let me embrace my long-lost spanish-speaking past, Ainsley surprised us all with her Irish Dancing skills and successfully made us look like fools, Matt put some method to the madness of my basketball “skills”, Jeremy shared very detailed slacken knowledge, Lou of course embraced his mushroom expertise, Katy did a fun photo exercise, Mell got us all in on her paper crane obsession and Cassie thought us fire-building which became our bonfire that evening.
And the bonfire worked its magic, as bonfires do. By the end of the night, we all felt like equals and any adversity I’d experienced through the year was dissipated in that moment. For one night in a long time, I’d felt like part of the whole group.
The rest of the weekend maintained a much more relaxed exchange between group members. Sunday afternoon brought some health distress to me and I had to remove myself for a bit but I bounced back by evening. Before we left on Monday, Ariella, Cassie, Brenda, Katy, Mell and I went to the beach so that Katy could introduce us to her new favorite creature: The GooeyDuck. For those who don’t know, Gooey Ducks are the Peni of the sea. They are also the Mascot of Evergreen, the only fitting mascot they could possibly have. Katy had seen her first the day before on our beach walk and was now our designated GooeyGuide. As soon as low tide hit, we headed down and meandered about for an hour or so, feeling a bit forlorn as minutes passed without a sighting. We did see other neat specimen including a many-legged start fishy dude and a Moon Snail which reminds me of Jabba the Hut. Just as I was getting anxious to get us on the road, Mell shouted “Oh my gosh! A dead Gooey Duck!” and then, as we began to crowd: “Oh my gosh! It’s not dead!” This lone rebel had sprawled out on the sand where typically, only their phallic head is seen from the surface of the sand. As Ariella and I began to walk back to the car, we started seeing a bunch, squirting into the air before dodging back down several feet under ground, as is their habit. I think it was just the time of day we’d chosen to go. They were finally waking up in all of their pornographic glory.
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| I had to steal Katy's picture to show what one of these suckers looks like! |
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| Star-fishy dude! |
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| Moon Snail! |
The weather on the drive back was beautifully sunny and warm and we could finally ride with the windows down. It was wonderful to have my favorite road companion on the way back to reflect on the weekend and be able to speak frankly and openly to. As we talked, I realized that I was fully grateful for a weekend that had begun as a terrifying nightmare. Everyone had had the opportunity to show themselves a little more fully and with each little layer exposed, more clarity and acceptance seemed to fill the weekend. It was a training weekend, just not in “SMACed”. It was a training in questioning assumption and self growth through team experience.
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