Thunderstorm

When I say my brain is storming, I meant it! After a blogless week, I am back on the typepad. It actually hasn't been a completely blogless week, I have been blogging in my head, and in notes to share with Shaffia. So here's my round-a-bout week-in-review....

Finished burning the fields today, and after 3 sessions, I am most thankful to learn that we only get to do it every three years. Who knows where I will be in three years. In three years, I could be almost finished with my Peace Corps mission, or perhaps have my own piece of land, but alas, I am clearly jumping way WAY ahead of myself. Back to the land.... Have come to realize in the past week, that nature is one of the few places, outside of my incubator, where I feel happy and grounded. During Tuesday's burning session, heard the muffled voices in my head scream, "WE COULD TOTALLY DO THIS!!!!", and I finally realized that they've been trying to tell me this for SEVERAL years. How do I know that? Countless times I have left beloved KC for Outward Bound, Colorado, Montana, or even San Franscisco, all to return in uncontrollable tears. The only times I am happy to come back are when I've been to bigger metropolises, like D.C., Chicago, and Bangkok, and it's good to be back in my familiar micro-metropolis called the Plaza. But only then.

It's interesting how my metro unrest has really come to the surface over the past two weeks. After the first burn, I didn't realize how grounded I was until I parked my car in a familiar spot on glam avenue, materialism oozing in utter abundance from the streets and the people who subscribe to that mentality. I used to be one of them, but am not anymore. It's taken a year for me to realize that that USED to be my lifestyle, when the voices were so muffled I could barely hear them. But I did hear them. And have heard them all my life. That's why I have played the part, but always been a little different, perhaps ahead, of the rest of the gang. Marching to the faint beat of my own drum in the background of the midst of the waltz played at the country club party I have attended for the past 27 years.

Being out in nature is a drug for me, and I have come to grips with my life-long addiction overnight. Saturday's buzz barely got me through to the second session on Tuesday. But that buzz quickly got killed Wednesday. After a relaxed day out in the country, reality slapped me in the face when I had a "busy" schedule, packed with a Peace Corps meeting followed directly by a massage, and had to cancel my two other appointments due to an ensuing 3 hour panic attack. Not the best timing on my part, but it was a tp emergency, and Target was nearby. But when I went into the friendly fluorescent lit super American mega chain, I was consumed by fear of The Man. Losing my individuality. Where everything looks the same and all the drones happily comply with losing their indivuality, the Brave New World. Was able to grab the item I originally came for as I sprinted out of the store all the way back to my incubator. Where I suddenly questioned Peace corps' mission. It is a government run organization in which the volunteers are ambassadors to the United States. Fair enough. But are we really 'helping' other countries, or rather just helping them achieve our standard of living? And as the minor minority can attest, our standard is crap in the long run with the underlying theme being that material success and wealth bring happiness. Is anyone listening to me?! How can I coexist in a 4th grade mentality world, when I live on the 13th grade level?! Where does one draw the line between authentically helping another, and accepting another who comes with a completely different manual? When do we learn that different is perfectly okay?! This was the one thing that drove me all the way back to my incubator from Vietnam. Everything American over there is great, and I had to wear the mask that I enjoyed living in the celebrity lauded land. The land that blew the arms and legs off the guy on the street smiling at me while asking me to help him out?! The injustice of it all!!! The injustice of brainwashing one that their culture is corrupt and the only way to happiness is through a dollar that is ten times more corrupt. War is an expression of fear. Fear of differences, fear of change. The same is true of power. No wonder the two go hand-in-hand. When will we graduate to the 5th grade level mentality? Or are we forced to regress back to 3rd because we have flunked the test too many times?!

While that is only one perspective of many, I am desperately trying to see the situation through another perspective, but for some reason it is incredibly hard, and as a result I am shutting down. So I didn't go to the evening PC film and talk, nor did I go to dinner with my high school drone friends, because I was afraid I would get sucked back into dronedom. That's what is so refreshing about Bruce, 100% authentic, guaranteed anti-drone. But through this past struggle, called a year, I am now coming to realize that it's okay to be different, no more fighting it, just accepting and exploring in a search for my authentic self. That almost made life sound like fun.