Going Off to Quakerland

Saturday, September 29, 2007

Quakerland. That’s what my friend C. calls Pendle Hill – Quakerland. "Hope you’re having fun in Quakerland – going to meeting, weaving baskets, protesting the war – whatever they do up there…"

The decision to go to Pendle Hill, the temporary shut-down of a life in Durham (quit job, rent house, say goodbye for now to friends and family, leave my dog with my parents, clean house, mow lawn, and then PACK) happened in less than a month. The body isn’t meant to move that fast, honestly, as evinced by the wicked case of poison ivy that’s taken over my body.

THE POISON IVY INDEX:
On a scale of one to ten, please rate your current discomfort: 9
Please list the areas of your body that the effects of poison ivy:
* behind right ear
* on neck, right side
* the most hideous patch (where it all began): my left arm
* the undersides of my right and left arms
* right breast
* belly
* just above lady parts
* left thigh
* behind right knee
* right ankle
Plan of action: Antihistime (2) and Steroid Cream (prescription, running low). On Monday, call Dr. to prescribe an oral steroid, because this isn’t getting any better.

I have to pause here and thank EVERYBODY who made it possible for me to turn my life upside down so efficiently. First, my Mom and Dad – without Mom, I’d still be packing, and without Dad, I’d still be hidden in the grasses that sprouted chest high in the back yard (I’m exaggerating slightly). And I MUST thank April for all of her help leaving CDS and seven years of stuff, and for organizing a great going away party and an amazing going away gift (more on that later).

The thanks could go on, and will go on, but I’ve got something else to say now.

A seven hour drive took two days. Part of it was car trouble – I had to pull into a Toyota dealership that blessedly appeared along I-95 near Richmond because my hot engine light twinkled on and off, on and off for about 30 seconds. It took about four hours, though it was ok with me…I organized the papers I’ve been shoving in my bag for the last month, the “this is important but I can’t deal with it right now” bag…and then I dealt with financial matters online (wireless internet at the car dealership, very cool).

By thr time the red temperature light flickered again, I was near Woodbridge, by the Potomac Mills outlet. The traffic was slowing to a stand still. Mom and I had finished loading my car around midnight – and for the second night in a row I got about 5 hours of sleep. I’d been up since 5:30 a.m., on the road since 6:15 a.m., and I barely felt human. I certainly didn’t feel capable of dealing with the feelings that were going on inside of me. I didn’t feel capable of meeting a whole new group of people, of performing me, though as my therapist Nyra said, I didn’t have to perform – I just had to show up.

So I stopped, and got a hotel room at the Holiday Inn Express, which I completely endorse as a wonderful hotel. I spent a frustrating time trying to find Internet access because I suspected that it would be cheaper to reserve the room online, and I was right – I paid $117, and the lady at the desk quoted a guy who wandered in $149. But the effort knocked me out…at one point, I had a vision that I would take a nap, and then head to the mall for a bit of retail therapy, and maybe catch a mindless movie.

Instead I slept from 5 p.m. to midnight, and then from 12:30 a.m. to 8 a.m. I blissfully swallowed two Benadryl and slathered myself with steroid cream.

The next morning, I was still scared, but I was human again.

It seems wild that I was surprised by the fear. I’m stepping into a fairly structured environment – from 7:30 a.m. breakfast to 9:15 p.m. closing meeting. I’m coming to a place with the clear objective of being present – a requirement of being present several times a day. I sat on a bench this evening, being quiet, looking for W. who had my packet and my name tag. I was suddenly and severely gripped by a deep need to find the closest Target.

I’m not kidding about this urge at all. I could feel a hovering sensation – feelings, feelings everywhere, threatening to knock me dead. It was terror, but in that moment I both felt the terror and also, felt it break. I was still afraid, but I felt, then, that my fear made sense. I mean, come-on…I’ve left my comfort zone, as imperfect as it was, big time. I’ve left my essential coping strategies behind. This is intense stuff for me.

As I was leaving Durham, I’ve been saying to everyone – I’m grateful, terrified, and excited about going to Pendle Hill – but I don’t know that I had time to really experience the terror of leaving my community and heading somewhere almost completely new. I did make the decision to spend the night outside of Washington D.C. for a number of very practical reasons – not wanting to sit in traffic, not wanting my car to overheat while I was sitting in traffic, the fact that I was physically drained by a lack of sleep and the awful itching and burning of the poison ivy.

But I also think I needed a holding area between one life and the next. The sanctuary of a hotel room and a good nights sleep.

As a result, I missed the first day of orientation, and some good getting to know each other exercises. But before dinner, I was welcomed with a great hug by the Dean, and I do have nine months to get to know these folks – my 13 companions on this journey.

It’s 10:46 p.m. and I’m going to sleep. Breakfast on Sunday at 8 a.m., then meeting after.
I’m obsessing about what to wear, though I think I brought too many clothes and not necessarily the right ones. I was weighed at the doctors office the day I left, and I weighed more than I have in a while. I’m trying not to think about it, but weight is such a reliable way to feel bad about myself, it’s hard to resist.

I might go into Philly with another resident student for meeting (after the PH meeting). Or I might skip it and walk into Media, the closest town. Or maybe I’ll nap, or finish organizing my stuff (clothes are put away – as long as I don’t actually disturb the drawers and closet in any way – like by wearing the clothes – everything fits. At least for now. Still have my office to set up, but that can wait.

I’m writing with my computer on a pillow, sitting on my twin bed, with my own comforter and pillows. My queen size duvet looks pretty on the bed, with the sides almost reaching floor. I'm on the second floor, so I feel good about leaving my windows wide open.

It's funny how Southern I feel here. More on that later...

d

i have left chronos time...

and I am flying along in kyros time. Chronos, chronological, where life transitions take months and change is sensibly incremental -- gone.

Nope, I'm in kyros, where minutes and hours and days are shown to be the arbitrary human-made structures that they are...

that to say, the hovering presence that was too much to even write about in a previous blog post...well, it's happened.

Over a period of weeks (literally, weeks!), I was invited to apply for and received funding to participate in the resident program at Pendle Hill, "a Quaker center for spiritual growth, study, and service" outside of Philadelphia, PA. I leave Durham on September 28 and will be living at Pendle Hill until June.

I've quit my job and rented out my house. My parents are keeping my dog (this is hard, though not for Kacey -- she'll be happily spoiled and loved).

After all of these years of saying, I want more time for my own creative work, I want to be more present in my life...we'll, folks, I'm taking the leap.

more soon.

d

me of little faith

Seek and ye shall find support -- at least if you have totally kick a*! friends like mine! As you may have noticed (say, in my last post) I'm struggling with the whole idea of accepting grace, of staying in the present moment.

I'm not always so great at reaching out for help outside of my family. But darn, this is so great, I might do it more often!

I wrote to Pastor Pam, and she sent me this piece of scripture. Anyone who knows me will get that it's funny that I'm being asked not to worry about what I wear.

Matthew 6:25-34 (NRSV)
"Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? And can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your span of life? And why do you worry about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you--you of little faith? Therefore do not worry, saying, 'What will we eat?' or 'What will we drink?' or 'What will we wear?' For it is the Gentiles who strive for all these things; and indeed your heavenly Father knows that you need all these things. But strive first for the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. "So do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring worries of its own. Today's trouble is enough for today.

thank-you, thank-you

I received some WONDERFUL support this morning from my friend Jerry, along with this fabulous quote:

Willy Wonka: But Charlie, don't forget what happened to the man who suddenly got everything he wanted.
Charlie Bucket: What happened?
Willy Wonka: He lived happily ever after!

Thanks, I needed that! (What commercial, tv program is that phrase from?)

Please check out Jerry's funny, smart, and engaging blog @ http://www.idiomsavant.typepad.com/

when the gods want to punish you...

they answer your prayers. I think that's Meryl Streep's line to Robert Redford in Out of Africa. I don't believe those words -- I don't, truly. But here I am...and so much is coming together...and I'm eating frozen pizza and goldfish crackers.

By which, I mean, I'm still afraid. But I almost have a second audio documentary I'm truly proud of, a radio station in Santa Cruz picked up my last piece, which is cool, and I haven't forgotten about Bipolar Girl...

And then there is something hovering out there, something powerful, that I'm not even ready to write about yet.

But I do need to write, that much is clear. I feel so much better now. WRITING GROUNDS ME.

So for now...one-mindfully, I will finish this sentence. I will brush my teeth, wash my face, listen to my audio books, until I fall asleep. And I will tackle tomorrows challenges -- and attempt to accept God's grace -- TOMORROW.

Just for the record, I'm MUCH better at tackling challenges than accepting grace. But I'm working on it.

fear itself?

When I dare to be powerful - to use my strength in the service of my vision, then it becomes less and less important whether I am afraid.
-- Audre Lorde, 1934-1992

This quote from Audre Lorde is my email signature. It is also the first words at the top of my blog.

Tonight, I am breathless with fear. I am on the edge of completing a documentary audio piece that I've been working on (with a rather large gap in the middle) for over a year. I'm working with literally one of the best (if not the best) editors in public radio. In addition to this smaller project about one of my close friends Pam -- who moved up to NC after Hurricane Katrina -- D. has agreed to be an editor on "Bipolar Girl Rules the World." So it would be really good for me to talk with her about that project too.

I am a genius at helping others step over that bump of fear. And so tonight I managed to help myself step over mine. I called a friend and shared my fears. I got told that I'm a goof ball and to get over myself. I then took small steps to make sure that all of my tape was transferred to my new computer and that all the files were present. It's now 9:20 and I've printed up my 14 pages of transcripts that I did last summer. I may go home and listen to some stuff or I may just go to bed.

Stay tuned. Will Dawn continue taking small steps and move forward on the creative work she now has an opportunity to complete? Or will she derail herself in some spectacular way? Will she literally die of fright? Or will she decide that, as Audre Lorde says, that believing in one's vision actually results in being less afraid?

on reading

It occurred to me to feel a little silly about how deeply invested I am in the Harry Potter series -- my anticipation, my midnight tryst with hundreds of other fans (of all ages), and my dream of sharing these books one day with my child/children. I will say that I don't know if I would have sobbed quite so loudly if it hadn't been, well, that time of the month. But what of it? Why not cry about a book? About a ten year investment in a gorgeously developed gang of characters?

So the feeling of sillyness came up, and I looked at it, and thought, hmm, how interesting. And instead of shame, a wave of gratitude for READING, and writers, and books gracefully rose to the surface. My mother and her mother have modeled reading for me my whole life. I don't ever remember not reading as a child. And looking back, at the hundreds of books I have read, and the many, many I have reread, I think -- what a gift. All the complicated, difficult feelings I experienced as an adult -- reading saved me. While I didn't have the skills to negotiate the depths of my depression (or life) induced misery, I could READ.

I don't know how many times I read the Anne of Green Gables books as a child and teen. As an adult, I read and reread Ellen Gilchrist. Sometimes, books were like air -- I'd gulp desperately and finally, breathe easier as I turned the pages.

Sometimes, books were a way of numbing out, to be sure. But more often, I think, reading was an escape to something. A place of presence and meaning, of authentic emotion.

done for now,
d

harry potter, harry potter

I won't say anything, anything at all about the plot, because i'm afraid that anything i say might give something away. What I think I can say...

1) Last night, I ate a good, healthy meal and then permitted myself the luxury of uniterrupted hours. I finished the book. I read it really slowly, referenced past novels so that I fully understood the significance of each horcrux, and rereaad chapters as I went through so I made sure I knew what was going on. I didn't want it to be over.

2) Now that I read it, I keep going back and rereading parts.

3) I sobbed through several chapters. I cried so loud that my housemate came to check on me. I also laughed out loud through several moments.

4) I will be able to read the series to my unborn/not-yet-adopted children. That to say, the ending satisfied me deeply.

5) I need to wait awhile before I download the audiobook. Readling Deathly Hallows was a really emotional experience.

Thank-you, JK Rowling. Reading your books, especially Deathly Hallows was a truly wonderful experience.

p.s. The image above is the cover of the UK edition of the book.

p.p.s. check out JK Rowlings personal website. It's pretty great.

recent obsessions

amy winehouse
I can't stop listening to this album. And watching her videos online. she's amazing.

charlaine harris
She's a mystery writer, and I've never really been a mystery reader before. I got way hooked on her "Southern Vampire" series, starring Sookie Stackhouse, the telepathic waitress (my Mom did too). Now I just finished another series of hers -- the Lily Bard "Shakespeare" books. Strong, complex, southern heroines. Funny and well-written.

the upcoming release of The Golden Compass
the movie. 12.07.07. One of my favorite books is becoming a film. Please read the book, if you haven't already, or listen to the AMAZING audio recording. And Daniel Craig, of 007 fame, is playing Lord Asriel. Enough said.

the upcoming release of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows
I'm torn. Do I read it quickly and find out who dies? But then, this is the LAST one, so I should read it slowly, right? And what if JK kills....Harry? Can't do, can't be. How could I read this book to my hypothetical children and get them all invested in Harry Potter if he's going to die? Unbearably, I have a board meeting at 9 a.m. on the Saturday (12:01 a.m.) it's released.

tomatoes and blueberries
It's that time of the summer. tomato, basil, fresh mozzarella. bliss. And though the blueberry harvest was hit hard by the spring freeze, both the picking and the eating (with homemade shortcake) was still perfect.

summer movies
Live Free or Die Hard.
Bruce Willis, as you might have heard, brings down a helicopter with a van. It was totally awesome.

back to black

it's just been that kind of day.

or pieces of several days broken up by ok moments.

i'm in a kind of numbed out daze and i'm not exactly wild with coping mechanisms at the moment.

i have work to do that i'm not doing. i have something to turn in tomorrow that i have GOT to review before mid-morning. it's now 11:07 P.M. and if my summer house-mate hadn't let out my dog, I'd also be a terrible dog owner.

i am almost three-weeks overdue on an email i promised to send.

i have laundry to put away (this is not tragic. it's just that i could be creating some sanity in my physical environment if i hadn't been doing all kinds of ridiculous distracting stuff for the last few hours).

my head just won't stop with the mean self-judgmental crap.

well, it does sometimes stop.

well, it just hasn't stopped for several hours.

ok. this is funny. writing this post has somehow broken some kind of spell. i hope the break lasts long enough for me to pack up my computer and go home. if i can at least get to sleep at a reasonable hour then tomorrow doesn't have to totally suck.

i'm lonely, i think. well, last time i checked, that wasn't a crime. it doesn't make me weird that i'd like someone to love and to love me back. not too weird to want a family of my own.

mostly, i do ok with this wanting. mostly i cope with this particular kind of lonely. i'm grateful for lots of good things.

well, tomorrow is another darn day.