Poetic Justice

I’ve stopped wearing deodorant.

Was going to look up how to make your own deodorant with Carinne, but decided today that we are probably just fine getting used to our own musk. And maybe you start to smell better once your body gets used to not having deodorant chemicals under your arms?

Outside under the shade of the tree in our front yard, sitting in the wooden chair in the grass. The wifi works perfectly out here, and I’ve got a new favorite spot. Walked out to the backyard to work, but George was out there lifting weights. And everyone is all over the house. The community here is wonderful. I love to run away and have my alone time, but I love the fact that I have to run away. That there is something to run away from. I think it’s a necessity that we overlook in Western society- that chaos that comes with a house full of people, a constant stream of faces calling you and greeting you and pissing you off and warming your heart and mowing the lawn, making inspirational posters to hang on the wall, cooking chicken parm, lounging in the backyard living room.

Monica, Joe, Hannah and Maddie were here this morning. And they interacted with a majority of the people we know in the hours they were here.

When we woke up this morning, Ella walks into our living room to find us all having a sleepover. She is on a mission, and deposits something in our kitchen, and leaves with something else. She doesn’t need to know names, she barely notices that we’re all there. That coexisting together without needing to have full interaction with one another. We’re all alone together a lot of the time. It’s my favorite– same feeling as you get when you go to a busy coffee shop to study alone. Ray walks in with a guy with a beard, red shirt, skinny jeans. She grabs something, and then they both walk out. Don’t know that guy, might never know who he is. But later, we’re making vanilla chocolate chip scones for breakfast, and the phone rings. It’s for Ray next door, so I walk over with the phone and hand it to her. The red shirt guy is jamming out on their piano near the front door.

Out at the lake, we are rowing across the lake with seven people in a three person boat. And a dog starts swimming manically across the lake toward us, and we grab it and pull this 100 pound dog in. But then the owners, five people across the lake we didn’t really know, yell at us to let the dog out.

Then later, we see them on the other side of the lake, and it’s Cody. He’s encouraging us to jump off the boulders into the water, and we’re like, you can do that yourself if you want. We’re good.

And then on the way back, I met a community member I’d never met before and we exchanged names.

We’re fixing lunch, and our neighbor Hunter walks in the door to grab cheese out of the fridge. We are cleaning up after lunch and then ten people I live with are all flitting around, interrupting conversations and being interrupted in addition to our four visitors from Sacramento. Then we walk outside, and Fallon and a few others are gathering out on the road in the sunshine, gathering people to go play a ball game out by the redwood grove.

This morning, Hannah woke up around 7:40, and left the house and walked down the street looking for the community chapel. And she didn’t find it, but she did find a community member. He pulled up in a golf cart next to her, and asked her if she needed a ride, and she said yes. He took her to the chapel, and then she was there for their breakfast, but left a bit after because she didn’t feel like she was completely welcome. Which is the interesting thing here- there are the people we know really well and talk to daily— and then there is the other half the community that we have never spoken to, but have eaten dinner every night with for the past month and a half.

It’s crazy. They are not used to lots of people, and in a way they moved out here to get away from people. So there’s great community here, but also a trend toward isolation and tight cliques.

-Eating an apple outside and George is asking about email addresses.

This guy I met last night who used to live in the house, with a cute hat and style is pulling shit out of attic and putting it into his car, barefoot and loving it. Less information the better. He says he stored a bunch of shit in our rooms.

-Just to give you an example of my life. I just had to leave for a twenty minutes while writing this post, because S got back with the groceries. And unloaded it all into our house, and then I completely cleaned out the fridge, and threw out old beans into our compost pile out back. We compost everything, with the option of also composting our own shit with the community if we want to start using chamber pots.

Anyway. I cleaned that fridge out, and felt great. Carinne and I talking about the crazy from last night. Syd calling my name asking how many hours I put down for last week, and then Ryan calling my name saying he needs some help from the assistant team leader position.

And now I’m back outside, attempting to begin writing about the last few days. So much has happened that I want to write about, but I think I need to go running first before the sun goes down– it’s 3:30 now and then we have dinner at 4:30.

The sun is shining through the tree in front of my in just the right angle that it is warming my face, but the rest of my body is mostly shaded.

My poor Irish nose– it hasn’t been anything but red for the past month an a half. It’s most definitely worth it. So happy in this sunshine, everyone deserves sunshine.

Everyone deserves to walk barefoot.

Everyone needs to experience stepping on horrible prickly plants every once in awhile, and being stranded on the other side of a lake, the boat rowing away, and you realize you have to navigate across a new trail, as the previous trail is covered as the lake has risen over the past week from the rain, and now you’ve got to jump creeks and look out for thorny weeds.

That’s just the way it is.

I remembered how to love adventure. And I remembered how to keep my own structure.

And I remembered I don’t have to be anything but me, because I am unique and that is all I need to be. And everyone is so fucking unique, and let’s encourage one another.

Hannah told me today, as we were walking home from the lake, that encourage in Greek literally means to “put courage into.”

Encourage. Cool, eh?

Badass. These people all around me are changing and growing and insecure one day, and the pulling boats to the dock with unbreakable confidence the next day.

 

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