Great Wide Open Me

A year ago today I was in Philadelphia having one of my last Starbucks, bored out of my mind (as I always am at conferences) and taking thoughtful glances around the room trying to predict who I'd happily share the next two years of my life with. I remember some faces clearly. Mainly Megan's, Harmonie's, Chad's, Kate F.'s, Brian's and JAG's - all people who, I am happy to say, surpassed my predictions. The rest fall into a sea of faces for me. I didn't go out of my way to talk to many people then, doing as I tend to do: going deeper rather than wider. We were given one of those ice breakers (the premise of ice breakers being "see, we're all dorks now, so relax") where you match people with statements describing them. I think very few people filled my slot in that day - and my sheet was nearly empty. I'd wondered for a second if it was the beginning of me checking out of the experience, but I know now it was really the beginning of me checking in.

Who I was at staging (Peace Corps lingo for "get used to paperwork, folks") is fuzzy. It seems so long ago. I'd just left my family and some friends in KC. Family in St. Louis before that. Friends in Chicago before that. And a life in New York before that. All in less than a month. Everything was in forward motion. Everything was a possibility. I like to think of life in chapters and I'd just closed one and was eagerly awaiting the next - wherever it came from, however it went.

This is one of those long chapters - the ones you wish the author'd split into pieces so you could just go to bed. It's two years and some change. The beginning was full of doubt and a lot of tears. A lot of tearing myself (and various things I'd built around me for comfort) down to make room for something more genuine and authentic. Something more me. I find myself in a stretch now where everything seems almost too good to be true. Work is picking up. I have a life filled with good, caring friends and a social schedule that I can barely keep up with. I've come out of the other side of something - something I still have yet to fully identify - as a version of myself as close to the real thing as I can remember having in the last decade. The laughs outweigh the tears 20:1, at least. Some days are hard, and there are aspects of my growth and evolution that I still struggle with. When I entered this I allowed those days and struggles to define me and sometimes swallow me whole, now they merely serve as a reminder that I still have work to do and encourage me to tip my hat to the work already done.

I wasn't sure why I started this chapter allowing myself to fall apart - to almost shatter. Looking back, I think there's a certain strength in weakness - in allowing your parts to seperate and to go wherever they want to go. Likewise, there's a certain weakness in strength and keeping all your ducks in a row - showing the world the "collected" you. Allowing the pieces of you to drift requires a certain confidence that they have a home to begin with and that they are mature enough to find their way there. It also requires a spiritual strength, one that allows the center of you to hold strong in the mist of a major storm - to not just close your eyes and hope for the best, but to take the helm, let your heart leap out of your chest to and be fully aware of - to fully feel - every drop that hits your face.

Being some place for two years has a few built-in difficulties, the biggest being you're not permanent, though it's too long to act like everything is temporary. You invest and then leave, sometimes investing to leave. I like the idea of not feeling like this is the end - that this is my life. However, I've never been one to establish something temporarily. I'm present. I invest. I care. I don't understand people who think the best way to live is like today is the last day of your life. There's no sharing, no connecting there. And while that's the scary stuff, it's the good stuff too. Rome wasn't built in a day and neither was anything in my life that means a damn to me. It's all been a lot of effort and a lot of time. Not all of those investments worked out, but those that did more than made up for those that didn't. I know I'm only mid-chapter because there are still plenty of investments I've made in this experience that the jury is still deliberating. Plus, I know that the most permanent investment I've made here is me... and that's nowhere near completion either.

I think about those days in Philly and wonder how I could have missed all those other faces - some of which mean a great deal to me today. I'm thankful that I've had this time to recognize and share with those people and look forward to another unpredictable year - knowing that the way this works there'll be at least as many downs as ups. I look forward to sharing myself - my full, flawed, fulmmoxed self - with those who care to share themselves. I look forward to working with my town for another year, to seeing what I can offer them and what they can offer me. I look forward to traveling - emotionally, mentally, physically and spiritually - in pursuit of greater comprehesion of both myself and this crazy world we live in. I look forward to the laughs, and even the tears if they mean that I entered with an open heart and was earnestly affected.

That form - the ice breaker in Philly that I ignored - was the beginning of me. It was the beginning of me saying "This doesn't fit and I'm not wearing it." Both my clothes and my skin are feeling a lot more comfortable these days and I've never regretted ignoring that form - or the many others I've ignored since.