wisdom teeth

[the first time I met maeve didn't really go so well. I was blunt, she was defensive, and things just went downhill from there. but camp worked its magic, as camp is prone to do, and by the end of the summer I could count maeve as one of my best things. when she asked if she could stay with us this summer, we cheered together as a family. here's her view on her time in nc. you can read more from maeve on her blog. then you will love her even more, because she is totally fabulous, whether she is wearing hair extensions or not.]

People always talk about how amazing travel is. How much it changes you and how you think about the world. And it does. But it's not all epihanys. It's not all magic. It's not all falling in love and sun kissed tan and hair braids that last well into October.

It can really break your heart. Sometimes it can really break you. Sometimes it's slow. And it's hard. And people are mean on the subway and you're sick of eating seven 11 hotdogs and you wonder why you came at all. When you would give anything to hear a session in the comfort of your own little city.

For a long time I have considered it as a means to gain experiences. To gain friends and knowledge and a kind of cultural awareness that only comes thousands of miles from home. And from all this I could build this perfect version of myself. This person who would sociable and interesting and worldly. A person I could really be proud of. This is the fantasy anyways.

Well This year I lived out my summer in North Carolina. Lived it on the mountains. Lived it out in the bikram studio, in the lakes, in the presence of people I have long considered family. In the lifestyle I have since come to understand and admire.

But it wasn't all connection and acceptance and easy breezy living. it was somewhere that suddenly my smoking had become unsociable. Where my makeup and hair extensions were not only unnecessary but ridiculous. Where happiness was measured in love and passion and life experience rather than money and success. In a place where i was or at least felt, often out of place.

So the word I gave myself for this summer was vulnerability. to remind myself to let people in and To let the pain go. To lower the defence in order to heighten the experience. Sounds obvious right? But how many of us are actually doing this. And it was something that was really hard for me. Something that's even hard for me to write about. So much of my personality is tied into my defence. My wit, my confidence.. Even my self esteem.

This was not my summer of growth and change. It was a painful striping down of the defences I'd so carefully built. It was going for a drink with no makeup on and curly hair and realising that maybe people could still find me attractive. And more importantly, maybe I could still feel attractive. It was not having my iPhone attached to my forehead, not having that escape. Not having that security. It was not having a face that i could just paint on every morning, the face that protected me from the world.

But it was also the first time I realised it was okay to cry in church, actually it was more than okay. It was beautiful. And it was okay to tell the person you love "hey, I'm really happy with you". The first time I realised it was okay to reach out to people who never seemed to reach back. To shout out, to stand out, to sing out without remorse or sarcasm or irony. To use accents when you talked to the chickens because you know what, it makes you happy to be silly. And who cares who's watching, who's judging. I was in church one week when the pastor said people will always ridicule those who step out in faith because secretly they're embarrassed about their lack of courage and passion. They're ashamed of the emptiness their closed hearts brings them. I guess he probably meant religion but the same can be true for life.

There were no risks, no real ones anyways. And yeah I got my heart broke but for the first time in my life I could say I really did everything I could. And yeah i embarrassed myself, but it made for good stories with my framily later over some dodgy beers.

On the last day of my trip, actually as I was sitting in the airport the first corner of my first ever wisdom tooth came threw. At the time of writing this post a week later I have three. The last piece of the puzzle. The last reassurance that this was the summer I not only wanted but needed. That there is triumph in our hardships, that there is beauty in our suffering. And that with every challenge comes a little wisdom. If you're willing to accept it.