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| Opening Retreat |
Monday, August 31, 2009
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Pre- Orientation Boulder A.K.A. Isn’t this the coolest camp ever?
Pre- Orientation Boulder A.K.A. Isn’t this the coolest camp ever?
So I have been in Boulder for about 11 days. A mighty feat has been accomplished and pretty gracefully I might add. I came here with a team: Mama/Mommy/Mom, Sister/Rasha/BFF, and boyfriend/Jan/member under suspicion (jokes, baby, jokes…mostly). We did more in 3 days than a larger family could do in a month. Before my folks left, my apartment was fully furnished (thanks to some beer guzzling CU students and a lil place called Savers, with touches from Tar-zhay), my cabinets and fridge were bursting at the seams with all sorts of edibles, I had the nicest cushiest bed I have ever slept in, and I felt like I had lived in this very apartment for months. After the folks and I had a teary parting, Jan and I had another day and half to feel totally weird about living separately for who knows how long after a seven year stint of hardly ever being apart. Thank God for beer and altitude effects to soften that stretch of time. So people told me over and over that Boulder is beautiful— so much so that I was already rolling my eyes at this statement before I left New York. On my first visit out here, I must’ve stayed at a really weird spot where I just couldn’t see the entire expanse of the flatirons, and maybe something happens to the clouds and the sky in February BECAUSE BOULDER IS STUPIDLY BEAUTIFUL. I mean Lord of the Rings beautiful! I am sitting in my lil living room and I can see just a snatch of tree-covered mountain out my window. There are wild sunflowers and types of lavender growing alongside the roads, and the air feels like inhaling…. I don’t know fresh oxygen? BUT let me not hesitate to say that for every beautiful flower I see, there is a matching mini-mall. The streets just scream BUY BUY BUY from Tar-zhay to an APPLE store, from Marshalls to Patagonia, from the Boulder Running Company to the Hallmark store, you cannot walk or bike or do whatever you do ( I prefer the stroll) without wondering in a very deep and existential way, What do I need?
So I had 5 days here sans roommate where I finished unpacking, ate, drank and smoked a lot, hung out lots with my new pal, Ian, watched some Season 5 of The Wire, wrote a song, cried under a tree, went to a party, met Old Daddy Bruce*, saw an unimpressive show as part of the Boulder Fringe Festival, and went to the only black church in Boulder (also not too impressive). I stayed pretty active and felt pretty open, but it pretty much felt like I was at camp and my parents would be coming for me at the end of the week.
Sunday night my roommate arrived and me and some other newcomers helped to unload his car. I was already labeled a strategist/administrator because I used larger bags to group smaller objects to get them out the car. I have cried hard at least twice since I’ve gotten here. Grieving over my old life, missing my old apartment, all my friends, and especially the pitter patter of little Jan feet Oh I meant Bowie, and the heavy thumps of big Jan calves. And I have had doubts, and asked myself, What am I doing here? And there wasn’t an answer immediately. In fact, when people ask me “What brought you to Naropa, ” the pause has become longer and longer. But this morning, a lovely woman who I totally want to be like one day, opened our “Group process” meeting with a reminder. She said “you are here, not to become someone else, not to fix yourself, but to learn to be who you are, to journey to your center and live from there.” I know some of you are like, why would one have to learn to be who one is? She quoted Chogyam Trungpa, the founder of Naropa, as saying we are all clouded like the sun. The program clears the clouds so we can shine. So I remembered, ah yes, this is why I am here, to clear all the debris I’ve accumulated that has dulled the brilliance of who I am. Ah, yes.
So I have been in Boulder for about 11 days. A mighty feat has been accomplished and pretty gracefully I might add. I came here with a team: Mama/Mommy/Mom, Sister/Rasha/BFF, and boyfriend/Jan/member under suspicion (jokes, baby, jokes…mostly). We did more in 3 days than a larger family could do in a month. Before my folks left, my apartment was fully furnished (thanks to some beer guzzling CU students and a lil place called Savers, with touches from Tar-zhay), my cabinets and fridge were bursting at the seams with all sorts of edibles, I had the nicest cushiest bed I have ever slept in, and I felt like I had lived in this very apartment for months. After the folks and I had a teary parting, Jan and I had another day and half to feel totally weird about living separately for who knows how long after a seven year stint of hardly ever being apart. Thank God for beer and altitude effects to soften that stretch of time. So people told me over and over that Boulder is beautiful— so much so that I was already rolling my eyes at this statement before I left New York. On my first visit out here, I must’ve stayed at a really weird spot where I just couldn’t see the entire expanse of the flatirons, and maybe something happens to the clouds and the sky in February BECAUSE BOULDER IS STUPIDLY BEAUTIFUL. I mean Lord of the Rings beautiful! I am sitting in my lil living room and I can see just a snatch of tree-covered mountain out my window. There are wild sunflowers and types of lavender growing alongside the roads, and the air feels like inhaling…. I don’t know fresh oxygen? BUT let me not hesitate to say that for every beautiful flower I see, there is a matching mini-mall. The streets just scream BUY BUY BUY from Tar-zhay to an APPLE store, from Marshalls to Patagonia, from the Boulder Running Company to the Hallmark store, you cannot walk or bike or do whatever you do ( I prefer the stroll) without wondering in a very deep and existential way, What do I need?
So I had 5 days here sans roommate where I finished unpacking, ate, drank and smoked a lot, hung out lots with my new pal, Ian, watched some Season 5 of The Wire, wrote a song, cried under a tree, went to a party, met Old Daddy Bruce*, saw an unimpressive show as part of the Boulder Fringe Festival, and went to the only black church in Boulder (also not too impressive). I stayed pretty active and felt pretty open, but it pretty much felt like I was at camp and my parents would be coming for me at the end of the week.
Sunday night my roommate arrived and me and some other newcomers helped to unload his car. I was already labeled a strategist/administrator because I used larger bags to group smaller objects to get them out the car. I have cried hard at least twice since I’ve gotten here. Grieving over my old life, missing my old apartment, all my friends, and especially the pitter patter of little Jan feet Oh I meant Bowie, and the heavy thumps of big Jan calves. And I have had doubts, and asked myself, What am I doing here? And there wasn’t an answer immediately. In fact, when people ask me “What brought you to Naropa, ” the pause has become longer and longer. But this morning, a lovely woman who I totally want to be like one day, opened our “Group process” meeting with a reminder. She said “you are here, not to become someone else, not to fix yourself, but to learn to be who you are, to journey to your center and live from there.” I know some of you are like, why would one have to learn to be who one is? She quoted Chogyam Trungpa, the founder of Naropa, as saying we are all clouded like the sun. The program clears the clouds so we can shine. So I remembered, ah yes, this is why I am here, to clear all the debris I’ve accumulated that has dulled the brilliance of who I am. Ah, yes.
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