Observations

My sister often blogs in bullet points. I think it's a good method for today . . . I just had a very provocative conversation with a winter over woman who believes very differently than I do, and it's made me question what I think about winters and wintering. Here's some thoughts . . .

* When people winter here, in this far away place, they lose the long view. The USAP is about far more than their winter over experiences. And the more they winter, the more distant from the real program they become. The big picture isn't here during the winter. It is more accessible during the summer -- when more folks are coming and going. The full bloom of it can only be seen by interacting in the planning meetings with the client. If you have never seen that, you have no idea how big and far reaching and important the USAP really is. You can only see how Raytheon treats you (which is, indeed, shittier than even they think) and all the confusing injustices -- which aren't actually confusing when you have been exposed to the big picture.

* These current winter overs don't know they can't see. They think they have it all figured out.

* These current winter overs actually think they are recovered after three months traveling and being off work. And I know -- because I have some time between my winter and me -- that three months doesn't allow you to process what has happened, no matter how good or bad your winter was. Doing multiple winters just prevents the lesson and makes the lesson that much harder when it does come.

* The lessons from the winter are big and hard and complicated and arrive subtly and slowly. And if you don't go out among them and compare and try and feel alienated and question why you feel alienated, then you don't get the lessons.

* These people are comfortable and well kept here, but that isn't actually contusive to making well rounded, good people. It isn't the way the world teaches us. The world is a cruel, harsh, heartless place that must be endured. And by enduring it, we as creatures are challenged and grow and actually get to a place to grasp some lessons and make some changes. We must go out there, forced or not, and experience living in it's full volume. Having life too easy retards the learning. It's like rich kids becoming terrible people and beautiful people being dumb. It is in the heartache and the struggle and the endurance and in the overcoming that we really embrace what it is to be human. And by engaging and TRYING we advance the race; we invent literature, we see more clearly, we make breakthroughs. Choosing to come here and live easily year after year with only three months to go out there and hear the full volume? Nope. Three months a year is not enough time to fully self actualize. To fully engage. To try out the lessons and see what you've learned. Coming back here is the same, year after year . . . there are only a few lessons you can exercise. The rest require greater complexity.

* Wintering causes life to shrink into a very tiny tunnel and the little pieces that make up life are magnified. Nothing gets complicated with getting the kids to school or negotiating traffic or making dinner. Dinner is just there. No kids. No traffic. No mundane little things to distract you . . . so you get some pretty heavy doses of lesson learning. Big, purified LESSONS that are really intense. And it makes you wise in a way -- because your experiences are so uncluttered. But what good the lesson if you don't ever want to go out there and try it out?

* Wintering and summering are vastly different animals. Summering allows you to be connected to the mess of living because it comes with you. Wintering might be a personal challenge the first year, and it definitely will test you down to your very fiber. But summering offers more of that life complexity. And 4-1/2 months here balances better with out there. 7-1/2 out there in the noise is better than 7-1/2 months here, isolated.

* Multiple wintering is hiding and avoiding the lessons. It gives you a place to go to never listen to what this place is actually trying to tell you.

* When strained through my value strainer . . . seen through my eyes now, many years after my winter . . . life is about the full engagement and about continuing to scare yourself and challenge what you know and try new thoughts on. And it's about learning the big life lessons and then going out there among them to see if you can execute those lessons in the face of distractions and kids and traffic.

* Winter feels big and intense, as if you can see the TRUTH -- but actually it's really boiled down to really simple little pieces. The big test is whether you take those big intense things and understanding them out in the noisy complexity.

Continental Shift

Well, all that freaking out and packing paid off. I am in Christchurch, New Zealand, after an epic journey. I was routed through Sydney and it took 28 hours to get from door to door. By the time I was talking with my sister on the phone from the hotel, I had been up 38 hours and was starting to hallucinate. Magnificent.

I'm good now. Slept for 12 hours and had a nice long walk in the rain this morning after breakfast. It was so beautiful out. COLD and raining. I even bought a lovely tiny umbrella from the nicest women in the universe. I love this kind of weather . . . cold and rainy. I had breakfast at a groovy coffee shop place and wrote in my journal. I do so much better in this black-clothes, urban environment. I love it!

Now the sun is shining and I'm thinking of taking a nap. I received an email from a cute boy who might want to hook up after 8:00 tonight. We'll see if he does call round. I'm not holding my breath. He travels in packs and may be consumed.

Tomorrow I go over to the CDC to work. I should try to get a sandwich made from that bagel place to take for lunch. Give me a reason to leave the hotel for a minute. I may also walk over to the gardens . . . for beauty.

Anyway . . . I'm in New Zealand . . . where all shouldn't be, but is familiar. How did this happen? How did the inside of Sydney's international terminal and the city of Christchurch, New Zealand, ever become second homes to me? How did this happen without me noticing?

Space/Time travel is mind blowing.

I love Astrobarry

This is part of Astrobarry's latest post:

"In general, when we speak of Mercury retrograde, it's about obstructions to processes of transmission, transportation and communication that hassle our best attempts to pay bills, get to the office on time, or explain ourselves in touchy situations. We're closing in on the latest Mercury retrograde (Oct 12-Nov 1) from the sign of Scorpio, where these sort of hiccups may prove to be more psychologically sharp—mainly because they may stir uncomfortable emotions, perhaps way out of proportion to the actual inconvenience that's occurring, or through whatever deep-but-deeply-unpleasant revelations 'accidentally' make it to the surface."

This was my day today. I am scheduled to leave on Friday and I don't have a ticket. I got an itinerary that had me leaving on the wrong day. I turned it back in and now I have gone to the bottom of the pile and I have no idea when I'll be ticketed. And I'm pissed and hurt and freaking out "way out of proportion to the actual inconvenience that's occurring." I swear to God. What I want to do is throw my purse and yell, "If I'm not good enough to ticket on time, I'm not good enough to deploy for you, Fuckers. I'm out of here!"

And the scary thing? I'm full time with this company. I am intimately aware of how badly we treat our employees. I never expect to be treated well. And if I'm this mad . . . THINK of how mad the contractors are. Think of being a first time person not getting your ticket and you are supposed to be leaving. Think of how bad that is making everyone feel!

And what are they doing to help . . . nothing that anyone can see. There is no cavalry.

And I'm just tired and freaked out -- like I always am before I deploy -- and I am thinking to myself why bother with all this stress when I'm not even good enough to ticket on time!

I hate being irrational. I hate being so mad that my vision tightens up and I shake. And I've been like this all fucking damn day.

Tonight, to remedy, I am going to pack all up . . . as all up as I can . . . so I have less to stress over. If and when they finally buy me a ticket on a plane, I'll go somewhere. And I'll be nervous and stress and then I'll turn my hands up for goodness, make notes of the stories, focus on writing them all down, and leave here in a blaze of glory.

Breathing. Breathing through the anxiety and the body image shit that's coming up because of the clothes I have to pack. Breathing through the not knowing and the uncertainty of the missing ticket. Breathing through the pinched headache I have right now. Breathing through the phone ringing and the heaviness of baggage.

I desire nothing.

I turn my hands up.

I accept what comes.

I stop pushing the river.

There is absolutely nothing I can do about any of this . . . but pack.