Why I wanted to write. Why I didn't write. Why I'm writing now.

In which I attempt to address three lines of thought regarding blogging and not blogging.

My reasons for wanting to keep a blog were overwhelmingly less than revolutionary.  A year and a half ago, I was moving to a new country.  I wanted people to be wowed by my experience, I wanted to share something with those who weren't coming with me.  It would be nothing other than a subtle update of what my life looked like.  At best, I even dreamed that my work would serve as some inspiration to others.  I fell in love with the Mount quickly and I hope that this showed in my early entries.  It is a place worth writing about.  Even more than that, it is a place worth experiencing.  A place with stories that are meaningful, genuine, and funny.  With such a task set before me, my blog entries could have taken a fairly predictable if entertaining and occasionally interesting path.  I could have written about what it's like to live in England, or the places I've traveled outside of England.  My entries could have showcased the great struggle my students go through on a daily basis, paired with my own internal and external struggles as I live and work beside them.  I could have highlighted the fairly remarkable aspects of the therapeutic community in which I live, touching on the beauty of the environment and the importance of hands on work.  I could have taken the reader through a year full of celebrating festivals that enrich the inner life and remind one of the divine spark that surrounds us.  I have literally hundreds of anecdotes that would have served as brilliant reminders of the importance of simplicity, or love, or nature.  My entires could have been peppered with heartfelt morals and quirky punchlines.  But after a handful of well-meaning entries, I stopped.  I didn't take up a single one of these threads.  Which leads me to my second point.

People have asked me if I have a reason for stopping (and to be fair, many have not, after all many well-intentioned blogs evaporate and it's not that strange or earth shattering) and some people even provide an answer for why I have stopped - "You must be really busy".  I appreciate the out.  And I am really busy.  But, not too busy to read novels or watch movies or drink the uh, occasional glass of wine.  So, it's not really accurate to say I'm too busy to write.  My reasons take on a different character:

1.  I stopped wanting to share.  Many things, both good and bad, I preferred to keep entirely to myself.  I write daily but my interests in editing (more for toning down my temper or zeal than for grammar and usage mistakes) were mostly at zero.  I became possessive about my life and felt smug about some things and ashamed about others.  I lost the ability to sort out what could or should be shared and everything began to feel too personal.  

2.  I felt the need to put a positive spin on things that didn't feel positive.  Who can write an entry that starts with "I'm sick of my students and I miss my family" if you're not prepared to end it with "But the students teach me so many good things that I realize how lucky I truly am."?  I was in no way prepared to end my entries that way.  I wanted every day to be a fable and the days instead often ended in nothing but questions.

3.  I was bored of myself.  Telling people about my life before I went to England was dashing.  Telling about it as it first erupted before me in a flash of brilliance was dashing, "Look!  Look at all these things I am seeing and doing and being".  But telling about it as it became my life was boring me to death.  I became much more interested in escaping my life during my free time than in retelling stories of the day.  

4.  My life is not a project.  The Mount is not a project.  And, I guess this is the big one.  It felt like I started on the wrong foot with my writing.  I structured it in such a way to fall in step exactly with what I now want so much to avoid.  People speak of the things they and others do as "great experiences" and while there is nothing particularly offensive in this phrase, it makes me ears itch to hear it.  It seems to take the thing you're doing out of the context of living your life.  It is the same annoyance I have with the word "gap year".  As if living in England is a tiny hole in a life filled with lots other things that are less void-like.  Actually, life is seems pretty gappy in general.  Gaps between stretches of happiness, gaps between meals, gaps between work and sleeping.  Gaps between us and God and our families and our fears.  Gaps we create, gaps we run from, gaps we hide in.  To set aside something like living at the Mount as a gap in which I was supposed to garner experience in a way that I would compile, in writing, my thoughts on it became impossible.  

But I'm writing now.  I'm writing now to remind myself that my life is not boring or awful.  It is not a project, or a series of anecdotes.  But, it is an opportunity to reflect on things that are beautiful and things that are difficult.  I'm writing because it's good to share.  It's good to share our experiences, our hopes, our thoughts, and our pictures of cows.   

The adolescent

Twenty-one is supposed by many to be the age when one finally crosses the threshold out of adolescence and into adulthood.  Lucky for me, I stepped over this threshold almost two years ago.  Technically.  Unfortunately, there is still a good deal of adolescent grime clinging to my actions.  But I'm not despairing; I can feel adulthood almost tangibly on the horizon.  

Teenagers are a pretty disdained social group, and often rightfully so.  They are surly, pretentious, selfish, annoying people and the universe tends to reject them.  But, I have found myself just barely out of this near decade-long period of turmoil and now in a life where the students I work with are just a couple of years behind me.  At this time in our life (I include both myself and the students) we are just birthing our egos, we have very little direction and no answers (perhaps not even proper questions).  Being a "young adult" is unspeakably hard.  With the discovery of identity, destiny, and freedom is also shame, fear, and loneliness.  Without even really touching on the fact that the students here have the added obstacle of special needs, I can assert that the birth of adulthood is painful.  

I haven't updated my "charming adventures in England" in over a term now.  There is really more than I can tell you.  I guess I would just like to report that despite my grandly courageous gesture of moving across the ocean - I have very little idea of who I am or what I am doing.  I guess the relieving part is that the students don't really either.  I struggle with almost every action of every day obsessively searching for meaning and purpose and soul-discovering clarity.  But my life is not going to suddenly erupt into the final chapter of a coming-of-age novel.  Instead, every day I must simply encounter and recognize the souls of these young adults around me, dealing with their own struggle for independence, self-knowledge and purpose.  I encounter them, offering no answers or help - merely a recognition that each is a real, whole person.  We bounce our uncertain reflections off each other - over meals and basket-weaving, and walks to the grocery store.  

I'm not really a grown-up.  But I am real.  

ps.  This was vague and a little self-absorbed, I think.  But that is the mark of a young adult.  Forgive me.      

 

End of Term Reflections.

I have been here (on a side note: as soon as I started writing the blog I realized that maybe it should be called "over here" rather than "over there" but no mind) for a whole term now.  I am in the middle of my holiday currently and the Christmas term will start on November 5th.  Like every time we start a new part of our lives, this makes me want to exclaim loudly how it seems like I just got here and also like I've always been here.  But I won't get into a discussion about psychological time here.  What is my evaluation of having lived here for one term?  I love it.  I really, really love it.  I love it so much in fact that my eleven months in England project has turned into a stay here until I'm done learning everything I can project.  I have decided that I will return next year for another year and after that?  We'll just have to see.

My gang.   

And to sum up the most exciting 2 and a half months of my life: 

We have bonfires.  

In front of Anne Boleyn's childhood home.
Note how cool and European I look in my fanny pack.

I am making wreaths with a small group of students.  Each of the co-workers has to work on a small group craft project as part of our course evaluation.  Mine, of course, is inspired by my wonderful father.  And also probably Euclid who gave me a strong love for circles.   

OCCASIONALLY, I even leave campus and go out without the students.  This is Dover Beach.  As if this was not cool enough, I  found a copy of the selected works of Matthew Arnold for 50p at a charity shop there and was able to read "Dover Beach" ON Dover Beach.  Score!  After I took this lovely photo, I turned around to take some pictures of the majestic White Cliffs and my camera died.  Go figure.     

Rudyard Kipling's House!  There is a tiny room full of tiny jungle animals
that I'm sure was not there when he lived there, but it was still really cool.

I told you this has been the most exciting time of my life and then I showed you pictures of students with twigs.  This may seem incongruous, but I assure you it is not.  I could write forever about how I love it and how it's hard and how it's lonely and how it's fulfilling - but none of that could really do any of this justice.  So instead I'll just tell you one of my absolute favorite things.

Every night before bed, I set the breakfast table with one of the students.  It's a simple task - setting bowls and spoons and cereals on a big table, but I cannot tell you how comforting it is.  There have been times in my life that the darkness of night seemed unceasing.  This is still the case sometimes.  But when you set the breakfast table, all those shining little bowls sit out and seem to promise morning in the most unassuming but comforting way possible.  The days are linked through our table, set for ten.  There is a place set for me - my name staring up at me from the label on the napkin ring.  This is your place in the world - right here.  Morning is coming, promises the table, and when it does the Muesli will be waiting.  

Michaelmas

Yesterday, we celebrated Michaelmas here at the Mount.  Michaelmas is a harvest festival centered around the archangel St. Michael.  St. Michael is the conqueror of the dragon and friend of mankind.  Reflection on him can help us all to overcome the darker sides of ourselves and let the lighter sides shine through.  St. Michael conquers, rather than slaying the dragon.  We must tame our passions - most notably pride and fear - though they cannot be exterminated.  Michaelmas is the first of many festivals to be celebrated here.  We started the day with a collection of performances.  I sang in a choir and recited and verse with my house but there was also music, dance and storytelling.

  

Calendar of the yearly festivals. 

After the morning gathering with the community, we split into groups to harvest different sections of the gardens.  My house was harvesting leeks.

The harvest! 

In the afternoon, we each worked on a different project with a group of students.  Each group produced something to share with the community at the end of the day - dancing, cooking, and iron forging were among the projects.  My group was preparing a harvest display for the dining room.  

The Masterpiece! (That's St. Michael in the center) 

To end the day, we had an outdoor supper of pumpkin soup and rolls,
followed by pudding - of course.  

I couldn't have asked for a more beautiful day.  What a blessing to be able to spend time working together with a community.  The fact that we have been enjoying an Indian Summer helps too!  Holidays can be stressful - everyone running around trying to prepare some sort of wonderful day to be enjoyed.  It is so easy to get overwhelmed.  There is usually enormous pressure to prepare so much ahead of time so that everyone can "relax and enjoy the day" that one can forget to relax at all.  This harvesting festival, while almost continual work, was an important reminder that the beauty of the day is simply working together.

I am overwhelmed with how cool my life is.    

A smattering of the vibrancy of my life.

I've been trying to find this perfect combination of time to write and fascinating things to say and beautiful pictures and a coherent theme in order to throw them all together for a post that could wow everyone.  This combination is not coming together as much as I'd like.  Instead I'll just share a few things that are happening in my life.

1.  Our first craft project in College 1 is pottery.  However, instead of heading for the wheels or even for a nice new packet of clay, we trekked out to....the woods.  And we dug clay.  And now we are in the process of wetting the clay (squelching) and removing all the imperfections - wood, leaves, stones, etc.  It is wonderful to simply feel the earth.

2.  In art, we are doing wet on wet watercolor painting.  Our first project was a yellow circle surrounded by blue and next was yellow on the top of the page and blue on the bottom - just barely meeting.  It is very therapeutic and just having two colors to use is so clearing for one's mind.  On Friday, I entered the art room after a very difficult incident with a student and I was very worked up.  Being handed a paintbrush and asked to stand (we always stand rather than sit while painting) alongside the students - I found a great calm come over me.  I could concentrate on the simplicity of two colors and the strokes of my own hand.  The students need help with focus and staying still and listening - but I do too.  The reasons why painting is good for them are not lost on me.

3.  In religion class, we passed around different objects from the garden and started to ask about life.  Just barely starting to ponder these things - no heavy theological truths - just students sitting around a table carefully examining the bounty of the world that God has created.  Where does all this life come from? the students were asked.  Watching them interact with each object and fully experience what was before them was incredible.  It is so easy to forget how beautiful everything is.

4.  On Saturday night, we had a birthday party for one of our students.  The joy that accompanied "Dancing Queen" - the last song of the night was so invigorating and wonderful.  

Life is vibrant here.  We must never stop dancing and looking and painting.  Every experience here is in brighter colors than I can describe.  The therapies that are in place for the students in order to help them order their lives are having the same effect on me.  I am proud of what I am doing.  I am seeing the world fully.  It is not easy work but each day I am aware of how far the human soul can stretch and how gracious God is to man.    

Weekend.

During the week, the schedule is VERY busy.  I am working with the first year students and so they take classes in a little bit of everything.  This is great for me - because I really get a taste of everything at the Mount.  It is also quite a run-around!  Literally a RUN around.  About half of class time is spent just trying to find escapee students :)  "How could I possible lose 4 students in a half hour tea break...?"  I am asking myself on a regular basis.  

The weekends offer a bit of a different flavor.  On Saturday, breakfast is an hour later than usual (so 9:00) which means we all get a little extra sleep.  The mornings are spent cleaning which is an absolutely fabulous feeling.  Everyone has a job and so the whole house gets a complete scrub down.  I am in charge of the girl's bathroom and laundry room.  The washing is very therapeutic and really helps to prepare yourself for the rest and reflexion that is to come.  The cleaning also allows for some one on one time with the students since they are working alongside the co-workers.  It is a great time for conversation and getting to know each other.  The feeling of sitting down with your house after the cleaning is so wonderful.  I have lived in various degrees (mostly on the lower half of the spectrum) of cleanliness in college and living in a place that is floor to ceiling sparkling gives me such pride.  The students can also feel the importance of their roles in this community as they contribute to these domestic tasks. The house really feels prepared for the special day that is Sunday.  How nice to set this day aside!    

After the cleaning routine, everyone in the house showers, dresses and prepares for festive supper.  Festive supper is a silent meal of bread, cheese, and cold meats that starts with a blessing of the meal and ends with the reading of a bible passage.  It is a little strange to eat a meal with others in complete silence, but it also very refreshing.  I think I fear silence a little and it nice to have an opportunity to embrace it.  After supper, it is quiet time for the students and usually meetings for the staff.  Sunday brings the service.  The service here is unlike any other I have attended and I will need more time to process it until I can write it all down.

Sunday afternoon?  Usually an outing!  This week, we went to a castle.

 When I was little my conception of England was rain boots every day and visiting castles whenever you felt like it.  That's actually pretty close to the truth.  Lately, I have been pretty homesick.  So I have to remind myself often that God is with me always and also that it is really cool to take field trips to castles.       

The Morning Verse

While the jobs around the house - domestic life, if you will - take up much of my life, I am also working with the first year students in the classroom during the day.  Each morning, we recite a poem together, written by Rudolf Steiner, that is worth sharing:

To wonder at beauty,

Stand guard over truth,

Look up at the noble,

Resolve on the good.

This leadeth man truly

To purpose in living,

To right in his doing,

To peace in his feeling,

To light in his thinking.

And teaches him trust,

In the working of God,

In all that there is,

In the width of the world,

In the depth of the soul.

Sometimes the days feel too long, and the students are difficult, and you feel so very far from home.  But there is comfort even still!  This morning verse has helped to center my life and keep me focused not only on what I am doing here at Camphill, but what we should all strive to do always and everywhere.  

I will write more about what I am actually doing in my classes soon, I promise!  It is really good stuff :)