loose change

a long overdue monday piece! breaking my silence! today’s thursday piece looks like this:

i’m off of morning schedule because my immune system gave out on me this week. i’ve got that kind of cold that’s induced by carrying too much tension between the shoulders and exacerbated by too much time in the sun. i didn’t see it coming! we can’t be firing on all cylinders all the time–something had to give.

being sick is objectively unpleasant. being sick at camp the worst case scenario. sam and i have been talking about this–it’s really hard to slow down here. we want so badly to be at 110%, to be at our best at all times. it feels terrible to stay in bed, even when it’s a necessary measure in recovery. i need a break, but i don’t want a break. i like how similarly s and i view camp, how parallel our roles here are. he’s really really good at his job, which must mean i’m pretty good at mine too.

lately i’ve been feeling very sensitive to certain things. i have a lot of existential questions bouncing around in my brain. i’ve been getting a little bit sad every time i kill a bug, even if it’s a horsefly or a mosquito. i’m particularly nervous about the chipmunks and the frogs on the road when i’m driving, especially at night. i am noticing this sneaky little fear of failing at everything, this feeling like the curtain could fall at any moment and everybody will see that i’m extremely vulnerable and have no idea what i’m doing.

i cry easily, mostly in gratitude or awe. sometimes out of good grief: yesterday morning i returned exhaustedly to my cabin after breakfast and the tears started falling, big wet tears that dripped off of my face onto my sheets. these were sad tears–i couldn’t keep them in. yesterday evening, i received a package from isabella and hannah with little gifts and notes from each of them and the tears returned, this time happily.

outside of my fugue state, camp continues to provide an abundance of joy and energy. it’s been hot and muggy and shows no signs of cooling. we’re thankful for the warm breezes and for the small bits of rain that break the afternoon heat, even if only for half an hour. it’s crazy to consider that maine summers may look like this for a good long while. prior to writing today i was skimming the news and there was an article in the atlantic from ross andersen, a tech and climate writer who traveled to death valley for the Hottest Reliably-Measured Day In History. i’m pretty captivated by this passage describing the heat:

the more our planet warms, the more it feels like there’s not much i can do to stop it, the less i want to think about it at all. i want to think about small things that are within my control: laughing together, making music, taking my dog to the beach, a cold beer on a warm evening, the sound of wind in birch trees, sharing a really good sandwich, driving on a trafficless road, kissing, breathing, swimming, napping, working, learning, crying, teaching. loving. i want to find the fine line between existentialism and nihilism. what a silly thing to yearn for!

here’s what i would have written had i had the energy to do it on monday:

sunday will go down in history as one [of many] of the happiest days of my life. it was founders’ day, upon which two camps come together to acknowledge the folks who gave us reason to be here at all. i’ve loved this day since i was a little kid. this year, four of my favorite people rallied to come to camp and sit through what is otherwise a pretty boring ceremony and honor our shared history. seeing lucy, avery, jack, and danforth all together in maine makes me feel like the luckiest gal in the world. i’d spent my day off with them on friday, but being able to look over the audience on sunday and see them standing in the back nearly brought me to tears.

what a gift it is to be surrounded by the people you grew up with in the place you did the growing.

i’m not sure i’ve got much left but if i do i’ll add it later! thank you for reading! take time to rest! be well xxo r