10 Vipassana Take-aways

1. You can always go a bit further
Whether I had to push through one more hour or one more day, I was made acutely aware of how lazy I'd gotten in my daily life. Allowing myself to take a half hour to walk down the path from the cabins to the lodge felt like hard work. But it was rewarding. I may spend the last 15 minutes of a meditation wondering if I could go a minute further with the pain, and then 15 minutes would be up. On our rest periods, there wasn't much to do but stretch and drink water and I noticed how negligent I'd been to be aware of my muscles that way. Because of the diligence in the meditation practice however, I needed no warming up. I pushed into the farthest stretches because the pain was not registering in a way that made me reactive.

2. But know what serves you
I have a habit of blindly aiming to fulfill a practice or set of guidelines to the highest caliber, out of sheer stubbornness or naive paranoia that I won't otherwise achieve any benefit. However, this pattern of thinking is what makes me not stop for water breaks on a hike, or commit to three day fasts and put myself through mental turmoil, agonizing over whether or not I should allow myself a drink of something more than water. A Vipassana retreat does have to follow a strict set of rules, to give the practice fair trial. But Goenka himself emphasizes how important it is not to accept the practice our of fear, promise of reward, or with blind faith. I am still figuring out what parts fit in my life, but it was a huge step for me to begin to break the misguided rigidity I feel when presented with ritual.

3. A lot can happen in a moment
Just when I would be ready to give up during a sit, thinking that simply sitting with my eyes closed would not merit any changes for the rest of that period, I would sometimes experience a sweeping shift all at once, that would carry me into another level of introspection with myself.

On the more mundane level, I also became aware of how little I accomplish in a day. Sitting for ten hours really shows you how much potential time you are gifted with each day.

4. You're never going to be as perfect as you think 
The first part of the retreat brought me to confront all the bad habits and negative thought patterns that I brush over or try not to notice as a part of myself. Feelings of ugliness, selfishness, impulsiveness, laziness, ego all arose.

5. But you're always going to be more than you think 
On the same token, as I began to meet those darker sides with more compassion, I also began to recognize all the ways in which I embodied the values of vipassana. Ways I'd grown to be a whole-heartedly compassionate person, moments I'd grown to be less reactive of and times I'd learned to sit with discomfort.

6. And either way, you are loved
Through it all, I experienced overwhelming gratitude for having the opportunity to experience the fullness and richness of love and support, beyond my family, beyond what feels "expected."

7. Trust is a placebo for mind-power
I also found that I really don't trust that my mind is capable of remembering a lot, processing a lot, or dealing with complex critical analysis. Of course, because we weren't doing much besides hanging with our minds for two weeks, I couldn't rely on crutches such as the internet, taking notes (well, mostly) or filtering through others' views. The more I discovered my mind could hold onto, the more trust I could begin to build towards its ability. Self-fulfilling prophecy, of course.

8. Your body is alway listening, even when you're not
I discovered that a combination of a little less indulgence, a little more patience and a little more awareness could very well be the simple formula for the bulk of my digestive ailments. I'd told myself that much my past was over and parted with, but as memories began to arise, I noticed how the block in my gut could be directly associated with things I'd really not listened to an processed.

9. Cling to the tools, not the moments
There are plenty of times where so many reflections seemed to culminate in this overwhelming feeling of accomplishment and motivation. It was easy to feel like nothing would take me down ever again. But nothing lasts, even balance...

10...So never stop practicing. 
Since leaving and moving, I've hit emotional walls sooner than I thought. It's frustrating, but as long as I keep sitting and coming back to the lessons learned, as long as I keep engaging, I cannot be lost for long...

From 0-100: My dive into Meditation

If you had asked me how much experience I had in meditation prior to September 14th, my net worth in hours could have easily been counted on one hand. But between the 14th and the 25th, I shot from 0-100. 

If I were to say that for 11 days, all I did was sit, eat and sleep, most would probably shoot me a look of envy and befuddlement, disenchanted with their 9-5 and dreaming of even one day where they could forego all responsibility and indulge those three heavenly symbols of laziness. 

However, those 11 days have come to signify a significant milestone in my life, and comprise one of the most difficult things I’ve ever done. 

The term ‘Vipassana’ literally means ‘to see things as they really are’. While there are a zillion and one ways to meditate while active, using mantras or visualization, the Vipassana practice does not utilize what are considered to be “fantasies” or “fabrications” to achieve inner calm. In theory, this is all very straightforward: You close your eyes, and feel. Scanning from head to toe, you feel that itch behind your ear, that dull throb in your inner arm, that odd chill in your right toe, the headache, the cramp in your side, the happy tingling through your neck to your feet. You feel it all, and observe. Ultimately, the goal is to reach perfect equanimity with every sensation that arrises; don’t cling to the good feelings, it will pass. Don’t feel aversion towards the discomfort, it will pass. Remain equanimous, anicca, annica, annica (impermanance.)

However, theory and practice are very different things (duh.) As Goenka (the teacher responsible for Vipassana in the West) says, the Buddha could show people the paths and tell them the steps to take it, but people would still complain when they didn’t feel enlightened. You have to walk it. Similarly, I could sit and describe a white duck to you. But if you’re blind and reach out to feel this duck, you could very well think that the color white means soft. In short, my writing is going to fall short of conveying the experience because ultimately, it is something that you just need to experience yourself to really understand. 

That’s my disclaimer. But because I like to write, and have this blog to document these very changes and growth in my life, I’m gonna gab. 

Day 1: Registration

I drove out to Idaho a couple of days early and took myself exploring at Craters of the Moon National Monument. I was a bit out of sorts the entire weekend, partially feeling like I should be practicing some sort of drastic aceticism in preparation for the piety to come. However, on Monday, after unpredictable clouds thwarted my hiking plans, I took Leo’s words of wisdom and went to find a giant sandwhich, coffee and a place to gab people’s ears off until I had to go into the camp. I arrived at Sawtooth on the earlier end of registration and spent the couple of hours nervously talking with my fellow cabinmates, each of us curious to know if we’d had any prior experience with this sort of thing, and wondering what on earth brought us there to shut up for two weeks. After registration was over, we were given a tremendous dinner and one more hour of talk time before being called into a small meditation room one by one to receive our assigned cushions for the duration of the retreat. I remember, 5 minutes into our first hour-long sit that night, I thought naively to myself how relaxing and painless this was going to be. 

Ha. 

Days 2-3-4: But really, days 1-2-3.

I was no longer delusional by the end of day one. The schedule is TOUGH. 

4:00am: Wake up

4:30-6:30: Meditate in the hall or in your own room

6:30-8am: Breakfast

8-9am: Group Meditation

9-11am: Meditate in the hall or in your own room 

11-12pm: Lunch

12-1pm: Interviews with the teacher/Rest

1-2:30pm: Meditate in the hall or in your own room 

2:30-3:30pm: Group Meditation

3:30-5pm: Tea Break

6-7pm: Group Meditation

7-8:15pm: Discourse

8:15-9pm: Group Meditation

A day of meditating from 4:30am to 9pm, feels like three. Lots of brain action happened in those first three days. Energetically, my space was very dark and crowded. My mind was jumping from planning for the future, to drowning in a memory managiary, to creating random cartoon illustrations. On the more mundane end of things, I had to restrain myself from plotting how I would begin this very blog, what music I would listen to first upon leaving, and what would be my first words once released back to the wild. I was also fascinated to discover that there are a LOT of hours in a damn day. This is quite a motivator for repurposing one’s time. Walking the small hundred-foot path to and from the lodge for exercise like a caged dog, I would sometimes feel like someone that “had to do time, to learn a lesson the hard way:” ‘I promise, I’ll never while away my hours on Facebook again!’ Contrary to the imagery that mindful magazines at your local grocery check-out line would have you believe, meditation is not graceful. You have 40 people sitting in a crowded room together with stomach gurgles and farts and coughs, and while the room is seemingly voiceless, the mind-chatter would probably be deafening if you could hear inside heads. 

But amid the mental chaos, great knots of habit patterns and engrained memories were beginning to be untangled. Because we weren’t allowed to write, I began to notice how much distrust I had towards my mind’s ability. Because we weren’t allowed to talk, I was forced to be truly self-reliant and take responsibility for my emotions, as opposed to finding distraction within others’ perceptions of the experience. As memories of my adolescence arose, I dipped in and out of dark spaces. I had moments where I just sat in awe at the acknowledgement that this person could be so fully loved by someone. Those moments turned into deep gratitude and then gradually into empowerment as the practice took us deeper into the concept of impermanance. Everything is a constant flow of energy and sensation, so the past cluster of energy or kalapas no longer exists. I began to recognize all the areas in my life that I may have let go of on an intellectual level, but that I was still deeply clinging to within my body. Once I began to address that, I could feel incredible shifts in the acceptance I had towards myself and my reality. 

Time and again, I’d had energy workers mention to me that I held a lot of anger and fear in certain places in my body. As these knots started getting worked with, I noticed how many of the communication conflicts in relationships with my family and others probably arose because I was responding with this old energy, associating from those angry and fearful identities rather than from the person I am now. At the end of a long day, these moments ultimately left me in awe and gratitude for choosing to come. 

Day 4: Hell 

And then you just have those days. It’s exhausting on the brain to try to wrap your head around the constant duality of “this is the most incredible experience ever! I fucking hate it here! when can I leave?!” By the afternoon of day 4, I was experiencing my first truly stir-crazy moment, laying in bed on our “rest period”, which meant laying still without my eyes closed until the moment we had to go sit still with our eyes closed. These times would come with varied intensity and I would find myself counting down the time in a thousand and one ways, trying to make the duration sound more tolerable. But then once again, a small reflective theme would come up and I would realize that there’s not much else I’d rather be doing. 

Another thing that got me through these moments was my heightened awareness to the natural world around me. I’ve always respected and loved nature, and try to walk around with eyes wide  open. Yet my attentiveness is always sullied by time constraints or social pressures to divert your attention elsewhere, or even because of some sort of worry that I’ll appear to be “trying too hard” to be “into” nature. But all of those concerns are stripped away at Vipassana. Without a second thought, I would find myself pausing on walks to pick up a pinecone or rock, or examine a branch. I would lay and watch the incremental shifts in light for what seemed like hours. And the chipmunks! I’ve never watched chipmunks so closely in my life! They’re absolutely fascinating creatures. Their speed is the land equivalent to a hummingbird, seemingly teleporting from one place to the next with so much as a twitch of their leg. These daily respites helped me through just one more hour.

And then we would go sit for our group meditations, and I’d reach pivotal moments that would carry me through just a bit further. And then we would reach the end of the day, which always concluded with a video discourse given by Goenka. These were precious moments. A very wise, very humorous and relatable teacher and storyteller, Goenka would make the whole room burst into laughter. While we couldn’t talk, these animated reactions made me feel human again and gave us insight as to the effects the practice had in life outside of our ten hours of daily sits. 

Day 5: Hump Day, and going rogue

At the half way point, I went a bit rogue. Not only did I sleep in past morning meditation, but I took advantage of the fact that the sign-up sheet for bathroom clean up was left with a marker hanging from it in the bathroom. From that day forward, I began to acrue a small pile of paper towel jotted with brief notations. 

While day 5 was equally difficult as day 4, I stumbled upon another big chunk of self growth that day. It was the day I really began to let go of the person I’d been in the past. This involved thoroughly exploring my detrimental relationships and feelings towards my family. And as I began to disassociate myself from those times, a loosening occurred in my gut. While there is still plenty of work to be done, I think that the retreat showed me just how much of my heath concerns are exacerbated by emotions. 

This was the day that I also moved more from partying with my bad self to giving sort of small pats on the back for ways in which I recognized I already upheld a lot of the values and beliefs that Vipassana emphasizes, from the active compassion to sitting with sensation, to observing versus reacting. 

As we approached the last few days of the retreat, my mind definitely became more and more restless. I had praised myself for tapping into large themes and become newly motivated for things to come. Now I wanted to take all of that energy and go “dododo.” It was hard to remain in a calm mind during group meditations, and many of the sessions evoked large physical stress responses in my head, primarily right between my eyes, and my jaw. It was uncomfortable and is obviously an area with which I need to learn to become more equanimous. But as Goenka says, these ten days are just a small step on a long path. I was not meant to accomplish enlightenment in two weeks. 

On the morning of the tenth day, we were allowed to break from noble silence. All of the realizations and wisdom I’d felt attuned to came crashing when I began to listen to others, finding that I’d gotten more roped into wondering about others as the days wound down and had lost that quiet center in myself where the real work was supposed to be taking place. We continued with group meditations that day, and I used the opportunity to refocus and tackle my naive sense of pride. 

On the morning of the 11th, as we said our last chant, I was bothered that I still felt a painful tension in my face. I should be elated! We’re done! It wasn’t until I was driving out in my car, that the acknowledgement of all the changes I’d undergone began to hit. Things were different. Despite the brain chatter and the moments I strayed from meditation to miss someone or plan something, despite the physical discomforts I was feeling, I had this sweeping inner calm underneath it all. Stopping into town to get coffee, I had no idea how it would feel to be amongst crowds again. And yet, I glided through the room like no one else was around, feeling in perfect control of my space. The same calm carried over into a conversation with my mother, leaving no underlying irritation or misguided communication. 

On the ten hour drive home, all the thoughts and emotions flooded my mind and yet I still had no outlet after two weeks. When I arrived in Packwood, the buildup had manifested in all sorts of physical sensations, from chills to nausea, to shaking. I made a fire and dinner while waiting for Leo to get to town and once he made it, I just rambled and rambled as we both just lay on the couch, him a physical wreck from a cold motorcycle ride and me crazy from all I’d been holding in. But still, an underlying calm. 

I do not want to reach enlightenment. I am an emotionally driven being and don’t mind it. I know that I still have plenty of digging at the roots of the themes tapped into in Idaho. But now I have tools and a framework for understanding those issues and a paradigm that keeps them in my awareness. Every time I sit to meditate, and every time I observe versus react, is a moment I am removing old Sankara or “sin” from my life. 

“If you can take 10 lbs off your head, take 10lbs. If you can take 90lbs off your head, take 90lbs.” 

Bahvantu Sarveh Mangala

May all beings be happy. 

Into Silence...

Today, as I got in my car to leave the Blanton’s parking lot, a voice shouted from outside my driver’s window. “Excuse me! Excuse me!” A middle aged woman ran up to my open window. “I was just over at the thrift store. Did I hear you talking about staying silent for 10 days? That’s amazing. I’m camping alone right now, and I think I’m going to turn off my phone for the day.” 

We chatted and I wished her the best on her own endeavors, once again entering back into this separate space, a world within the world, where no one here can follow. 

This weekend, I am headed to Camp Sawtooth, ID. For lack of a better word, I keep describing it as a retreat. And it most certainly is, in the definitive sense. I am withdrawing from practically every. last. thing. When I reach those doors on Monday afternoon, I will be turning over my cell phone, leaving wallet, music, pens, paper, books, and any other crutches behind me. For ten days, not only will I not talk, but I will instead be attempting the art of meditation for 10 hours each one of those days. 

I’d learned about Vipassana centers a few years ago, while working on the farm in Chehalis. Ever since, the idea of challenging myself in that way always seemed inevitable. When I moved out to Packwood, I began to toy with the thought of using such an opportunity as a way to transition when I would finally have to leave my mountain home. The vague imagery of it seemed to fit like a pretty picture; finish a demanding job. Go sit quietly. Come to my new life with a clear mind. 

Nearly everyone that I’ve told of my upcoming trip has had a similarly enthused reaction as the woman in the parking lot, quickly followed by “Well, I could never…” 

This simultaneously strikes fear into my heart, wondering whether or not I’m crazy then, for jumping in so off-handedly, while also wondering what prompts people to say that? 

I’m sure that when I first heard of the retreat, I thought “I don’t know if I could…” or “I wonder if I could…” but here I am. 

I’m terrified and anxious, but I’m still moving. 

It’s fascinating to me, that so many pull off any number of challenging tasks in their daily lives, and yet when presented with the idea of stillness, it seems harder than the hardest marathon. And we crave it. As soon as that woman had overheard of my pledge, she noticed what she herself wanted. 

Hippie-dippie admittance #1: I’ve never meditated traditionally for more than a half hour at a time in my entire life. And in recent times, I’ve not even been practicing active meditation in the form of yoga etc. But when in charge of my own life, I have a habit of overthinking, getting restless for other things I could be doing, feeling the need to exert some sort of expression…and everything is at my fingertips to distract or otherwise do so. 

But by going to this center, I’ve very literally surrendered that option. And in so doing, will hopefully learn to surrender more beneficially in mind and body, beyond the confines of these 10 days. 

I have no greater expectation. I don’t expect to reach some sort of egoless enlightenment or become disinterested in all material joys of life. I don’t expect it to be as simple as sitting and sleeping. I don’t expect it to be as impossible as it feels right now, either. But by the very act of going into this, I am surrendering myself to the possibility of the sole present moment. And so I hope to emerge more attentive to that, and with less of the type of mind noise that creates those very thoughts like “well, I could never…” 

Stitches of the Mitten

So, besides all the tough, mid-life growing work that happened back home, there were delightful moments to be had. 

Upon getting picked up at the airport, my dear friend Anna was the first person to see. She and I spent the afternoon running the spectrum of serious conversation to worse-than-ridiculous selfie-stick photos, courtesy of my friend Elise, who’d shown up to drive me to the airport, the thoughtful gift in hand for me (okay, really though….thanks, love >.<). That evening, we joined up with my parents and brother for dinner at (my) favorite eats. 

From there, visits with friends escalated quickly, as I tried to make time for all I hoped to see before heading out of town that Monday. These involved many a bike ride to meet up in town, opportunity to revisit the Arb, the long-lost tradition of pot lucking, a visit to the river to watch DIY raft races, a wonderful reunion in my college city, a stop at my old home, farm and bakery (Kismet) and even taking attempting to relive my past life as a DDRer. 

Motorcycle jaunt with Louis before his Burning Man adventure!

Vegan Potluck with George

DIY Raft Race

Snazzy Spectators of Ritzy Rafts

Long overdue reunion with Maggieface!

Grand Rapids excursion with my brother on the way up North

A beautiful conversation with my soul sister, Lori

Bounty from the Bakery!

And of course, as many cat snuggles as I could muster. 

As much as I have mixed feelings about leaving the quietude of Packwood, I’m also excited to have a larger variety of cultural experiences accessible to me again. One thing I do enjoy about my hometown is that there is always something going on in the Diag, whether it be the Hari Krishnas that chant all day long or some special evening class in the grass. It happened that one night while I was back, there was such a class: African Dance. My mom had heard about this weekly offering a while back and had decided to finally check it out, so her and I went down together. As we were waiting for it to begin, more and more people began to gather; far more than she had seen when passing by at any other time. Come to find out, we’d stumbled into the last class the session, bringing in people from all over the state to do a couple grand finale dance sequences. Yet besides the sheer mass of people that made it hard to see the leader at the front, the event was very accommodating to new-comers. We started out doing a sort of yoga-like warm up with a woman that used to be part of a local drum and dance group I knew of and then immediately went into a dance led by beaming man, full of that exhuberant African tribal joy. He broke each portion down into manageable sections and by the time we were running through the whole thing, I’d decided I wanted to find a dance class back in WA. There is something about the rhythm of African dance that feels so primal and natural. The gestures exude this generosity and graciousness for the planet and each step falls on a beat that seems to anchor my body into the planet more consciously than any other dance I’ve experienced. Later, we moved on to a much faster, more complex dance that I did not manage nearly as gracefully. But I really do think I found my match (albeit I don’t have much going for me in the department of hip action, which is highly emphasized in some styles). 

Afterwards, my mom and I grabbed a bite at the new Hopcat that opened up in town, a popular bar I’d never made it to in Grand Rapids when I was going to school (since I seemed to do the whole college-drinking experience thing backwards). Not only was their food tasty (their fries were not called crack fries for no reason) but they had a few MI ciders I’d not heard of, bringing to my attention that I had an important investigative mission to attend to while in the state. 

Being the third largest producer of apples in the US, the mitten is a must for anyone in the business of cider sampling. Before I’d left the state, I hadn’t been familiar with much more than the widely distributed ‘JK Scrumpy’ or the very hard-core funky-fresh ‘Virtue’. I’d been introduced to Vandermill on my last visit home, but that’s about it. 

Adventures in cider included a comprehensive tasting of all the Vandermill cans (althoguh I didn’t manage to get to their tasting room just West of GR), a discovery of a surprising new favorite in ‘Blake’s’ Habanero Mango flavor, and a visit to three different cideries. 

The first cidery visit fell on a drab rainy day up north. It was the afternoon that my brother and I had made it up to the house my parents had rented for the week, and the rain had not let up all day. While the guys were perfectly content to quietly while away the hours in their own time, my mom and I thought it as good a day as any to treat ourselves. I think it was also her way of trying to connect at that point, and less about her interest in the stuff. Tandem’s tasting room is situated in a quaint barn just outside of Suttons Bay. Quite a few other tourists had the same idea for getting out of the weather that day, and the place was pretty packed. Once we sat down though, we were graced with quite an extensive menu of at least a dozen ciders, from bone-dry to syrup-sweet. They’re definitely a place that has something for everyone. I actually found the greenman, - a drier, tart cider made only with green apples - to be a favorite, along with their sweet, summery ‘Smackintosh’ and their Cyser, which was much more clean and crisp than other mead-type drinks I’d had. We took our time tasting each and every one, including the far-too tart cherry (that is actually perfect when you mix it with a sweet, though). I would say, in terms of the versatility of sweetness, these guys were high-ranking. Our second cider visit occurred during our day trip to Traverse City. That morning, we roamed the local farmer’s market and a local art gallery before hunger struck some of the group. Conveniently enough, just across the street from the gallery was ‘Northern Naturals’ a cidery that also happens to have a delicious food menu. While the rest of the family was less than interested in the ciders, I got the full tasting spread and enjoyed a bit of cider chat with our waitress, who reminded me a lot of Stacey back in Packwood. The ciders here were more crisp and there certainly weren’t any “apple juice’’ ones, but the complexity was far superior. They had very subtle flavor profiles, one being lavender, one with orange blossom and one that even smelled and tasted slightly like pink lemonade. Beyond the tastes, the atmosphere was thoroughly enjoyable.The cider house was decked out in old wood, repurposed for chairs, tables and artwork. Bark planters hung on walls and the place supported a local ceramic artist by having a membership program that utilized her hundreds of mugs that hung on the walls. For an annual price, you get a mug and $5 fills on it.

I think I was the only one taking in the experience with much interest, but I did my best to find the enjoyment amongst split interests. As much as my family may fail to understand, I like cider for more than just the cider. A good product serves its purpose beyond being a thing. It is part of a greater culture, ambiance, a tool of community building. I like the sorts of people that it tends to bring together, and the values that seem to pair with it. 

The final cidery I explored while home was back towards Grand Rapids, after the up north excursion. Ridge Cider Co. has been open for a mere three months, but their tasting room is incredible! On one end, they collect and press all the apples and on the other, they do all the fermentation. In between is a long bar, full service tables and couch seating for finger foods and a large stage area for local musical acts. Since we were there in the afternoon, there wasn’t much going on and one of the workers mark, was able to talk to us quite a bit about the different kinds they had on tap. Favorites ended up being the Hopped cider and the ‘Summer Squeeze’. 

Overall, I think that MI has some catching up to do, by way of winning my apple-flavored heart. But I sorely wish I could have left with some of that Habanero Mango! 

Rewinding northward, highlights included BIKING. The nearest towns to our rental house were 6 miles in either direction, so my mom and I took a shot at biking into either one over the few days we were there. While one direction was relatively flat, I actually found the roller-coaster route to be for more energizing and engaging. However, it was definitely a one-way trip. I’m determined to get a bike when I move and build up a more satisfying level of stamina. 

And of course, there was the water. Although I spend very little time physically in water, I am very much a water person. Put me on the shore of a rushing stream or crashing waves, and time will escape me. As majestic and emotionally powerful the Pacific has become for me, Lake Michigan will always be my first love. It was my training wheels for learning to commune with water. This is where the attraction began. 

I didn’t get nearly enough time at the lake. However, the places of respite that I was able to find were perfect. One such spot was on a hike up Whaleback Hill with the family. The small 1.5 mile loop ran along a steep, sloping tree-line that taunted me with strips of blue hue. As the loop began to veer further away, the water called to me. I saw the slightest indication of a trail then, plunging down the hill into the woods and entranced, I pursued the sound of waves. I slipped and slid, and finally came down to the final row of thick brush, leading to a completely secluded shoreline of smooth rock. I had my moment of solitude before an older adventurer with a camera stumbled out of the same less-treaded path that I’d discovered. He turned out to be a Vetranarian from the Yakima area and had gone to school in MI. Small world. 

For the last night of my stay up North, our family friend Leora came to join us. Tensions within the family aside, we had an enjoyable dinner in town, and an appropriately hilarious introduction game of ‘Cards Against Humanity’ with her and my parents. 

Mother also bought this spiffy new Backgammon board!

And above it all, the planet earth presented some fantastic visions: 

The next day, I made my way back south, to meet up with George for one final adventure: DIRTWIRE! 

Over the last couple of months, the music of Dirtwire had become deeply rooted in my heart. When I discovered that they would be a mere few hours south of me while I was back in Michigan, there was no question of whether or not to make the trip. So on Sunday afternoon, George and I drove down to Columbus, OH to meet up with his friend Madeline for dinner before the concert. George’s magic work had frequently taken him to the city, so he knew of some nifty digs. Whole World had amazing vegan and vegetarian fare, including a tempting bakery selection and super rad art on the walls. Afterwards, we wandered aimlessly for a little bit before passing ‘the BIG fun’ toy store. There, they had everything imaginable, from collectable Muppits and action figures, puzzles and games, to gag gifts like poorly crafted poop yogurt. I don’t know about BIG sized fun, but it was definitely a worthwhile way to pass the time. Probably would have upgraded to BIG fun if I’d accepted a bag for my purchase; George informs me they put in free gag gifts. 

I wanted to be sure to get to the venue right when the doors opened, not knowing how crowded it would be and determined to get a front-row spot. There was next to no-one there at the start, so we sat with some drinks and George broke out a few card tricks. There was a DJ on stage, who would turn out to be one of five opening acts before our dear headliners. It was a long wait, but for the most part, the music was good. I’d come to appreciate the different aspects of DJing via the passions of Leo, Lewis and Brian and I loved to watch the way that the DJ’s head would start to get lost in the beats and the transitions as I imagined their body giving over to their art the same way I feel when I fall into a dance rhythm or a drum circle. My enjoyment is less about whether or not it’s music that I’d normally listen to, and more about watching a person become enveloped by their passion. That being said, I definitely took to some more than others. DJ Yheti, for instance seemed to have a much more melodic and unique set of sounds to work with, which I enjoyed. 

The only opener that killed the vibe for me, was actually the band of the man who ran all the music at the Saloon. It was way out of place. Before I knew it, we went from crazy beats to head banging noise. As his first song began to play, he slipped on a gas mask and let down his dreads. As the set progressed, the Gas Mask flew off, along with his shirt, as he flailed his hair and made ineffective gestures on the keyboard in front of him while most of the vocal talent was pre-recorded pop music. Can’t win em all. 

Fortunately, the act before Dirtwire ended up being none other than ‘Dixon’s Violin’ a local musician I’d had the opportunity to experience at the Serendipity Yoga Festival a few years ago. Dixon not only has an amazing musical talent, but being close friends with some of my friends, shares that deeply-felt authentic presentation of self that our mutual connections share. He brought that humility and honesty with him to the stage, and repaired the flow from the defunct act beforehand. 

And then, shortly past midnight, the moment I’d been waiting for. 

Some bands are not necessary to see live. In fact, some are arguably worse after seeing them live. Seeing Dirtwire induced neither ambivalence nor disappointment. On the contrary, I fell in love with their music even more. David and Evan have a very grounded stage presence. As soon as they began to play, I became imbibed with the rhythm, falling immediately into dance. But I wasn’t the only one. They had their whole audience captivated. Between sets, they would talk about the different instruments they use but even during their performance, it all felt like one big conversation with the crowd. Afterwards, I was able to get in a brief word each of them and share my admiration. It was an amazing night and I would see them again in a heartbeat. 

And then the last day came. Going out with tradition, I held a game night at my house. This time however, the group was a mixed bad of old and new friends. Especially since I don’t know when I will be back in MI again, it was nice to make face-to-face reconnections with people I’d been able to keep in my life, only through the virtual powers of Facebook. 

Game night cooking!

I was not dragging my heals at the airport, looking back a million times to wish I had just a moment longer. I had all of the moments I needed. Sure, there are things I can’t take. The water. My cat. A few good restaurants (and that damn good cider!). But the most important things will be traveling with me. Through all of the people I was able to see back home, I realized it wasn’t in MI that I longed to reside, but in the connections.

Whether it was family, with all of our flaws and differences, close friends with whom I can always pick right back up with, or lost connections with those from another part of life, I love all of you and for that, I was grateful to be home.. 

An Unraveling Mitten

Sometimes, growth feels a lot like falling apart. 

My blog is (obviously) titled Mitten to Mountains. As the years have gone on, the reverse has been increasingly difficult. 

In the last few months in Washington, I have been putting together the pieces to construct a new sense of self. My relationships, my professional choices, my environment, and my wishes and dreams have been converging into one fluid current; a new iteration of self, a whole new phase of growth. 

And then that current sped right down a waterfall. 

With a lot of rocks at the bottom. 

I always knew that returning to Ann Arbor brought with it, a degree of a sense of regression, but I suppose I thought that I could surmount such a trap with all of the growing I’d done. 

Some things never lose their influence. Within days, I was grappling with a very inherent sense of feeling 15, compounded by parents holding onto histories and assumptions from that age. Needless to say, it brought up some tension. 

If change is constant, its understandable that we get anxious or desperate when our environment and the people we spend our time with so drastically changes. It can feel a lot like loss. I quickly discovered just how challenging it was for me to be here, to engage with a world that was so separate from the life I’d just come from, and not feel like I was letting that life go, devaluing it, or taking a step backwards. 

My visit home ended up being less of a vacation, and more like homework. But as I prepare to fly home today, I can leave feeling like the work that was done here was necessary, the visit not in vain. 

When I’ve come back in the past, there has been a lingering sense of attachment to the ego of who I was here. Walking down the streets, I’d associate with my adolescence, absorbing an air  of narcissism. I’d unthinkingly get into arguments with my parents and take the haughty high-road approach without looking at the roots. However, this time, I didn’t feel the need to have anything to do with the person I’d been during my upbringing here. I was being inundated with cues and links to that person, but instead of just staying awash in the emotions of that, I began to look at what did or did not serve me anymore. 

The whole experience was kind of like unpacking old boxes that you always said you’d take the time to go through but never did, and now you’re wondering why you have half the stuff. This involved trying on a lot of new ways of communicating ideas or feelings about why I was or was not holding onto things. 

Two weeks later, after yelling matches, crying, introspection, reconnections and heart-to-hearts, I finally feel like I’ve gone from the blurry double-vision of a ghost life, to a more rejuvinated, sharp-focused sense of my self and my trajectory. 

Momentous self-growth occasions almost paralyze me. I get really pumped and then terrified by my own spirit. Perhaps terrified isn’t the right word…overwhelmed, maybe. I wrote on this sensation a few weeks back, in regards to positive life experiences and emotions: 

“…Like, when I have a good day, its not just a good day. I want to cry and dance and write and emblaze the moment in the stars. When I recognize the wonders of it all, I have a panic, almost. Like wanting to stop time because I feel I'm supposed to honor all of these amazing bits and pieces I'm noticing.”

When it relates less to experience I have and more about just inner reflections and growth, I’m trying to get better at trusting the essence of that growth as being ever-present, not something that I feel the need to cling to, for fear that I will somehow lose that wisdom. And through this visit, I feel like I have taken a strange, backwards ride from feeling lost, to feeling even more strongly in my center. 

When I return to WA, I will officially be starting my adultling life outside of AmeriCorps. I will be moving to Portland, working as an in-home senior care-giver, and discovering how I’d like to build my life in that context. I’m no longer in school or a program with “holiday breaks” or “summer vacations”. I’m really not sure when I will be returning to Michigan.

However, now I know that I can leave, not with scraps of unraveled yarn, but with a Mitten that fits perfectly to keep me warm in the Mountains.