But then my wonderful ladies made my night.
Syd, Alyssa, Jess, Carinne and I.
And I made lentils and vegetables with homemade dumplings and Syd made rice.
And we all sat down and had a feast at the dinner table together.
And then we sat there for a good solid two hour discussion of life and health and fears and beauty. And we started out talking about food justice– they started talking about it. Jess thanked me for showing her a different, healthier was to eat. And then Carinne got all hippie and academic with the food revolution. And Alyssa started talking about how we can all empower one another. And then Syd started talking about cultural values, and what we can do as people.
And then we all just about made each other cry as we all admitted that we have given one another a reason to trust people this year. And a reason to respect ourselves and our own decisions, and we will never look at friendships the same way again. It’s either family, or it’s not really worth your time.
And then, toward then end, Syd started taking notes. And then sent us out an email of the compilation.
I love them.
We did a workout/yoga session this morning after our coffee and before work. And we’re going to do it daily. And then we’re just going to make healthy food in our sanctuary, and empower one another to take our own paths out into the world. Loving and supporting one another as we go.
Some kind of magic has been happening all year. But some kind of magic is really kicking off now. We don’t even know.
I’ve been up way too long. I haven’t slept much, but then again, maybe I just won’t sleep much for the next month or so.
It’s quiet now– Carinne is painting and I’m taking some time to be alone with my thoughts.
I’m taking in my surroundings, and my loves, and looking at it all objectively with the midnight sun. The graveyard out of our front window. The ocean about two miles in front of it.
You never know who you are until you’re living it.
And you know what? I turned out to be someone who could stay up with the midnight sun.
It’s been a rush of adventure and people and ideas and new ways of life and taking time to figure out how to best interact. And then just going with my gut. And I’ve really enjoyed myself, feel like this is something that I can do.
I just need to get a little more sleep, and things should be great. I just don’t want to sleep. I want to write it all out. But the words don’t really come as well when you just keep finding new things to write about. So I should probably just get to sleep, and wake up early tomorrow morning again with a few cups of coffee, and a the living room all to myself.
I think that’s what I’m going to do, actually.
I love sleeping in the light. We belong to the light.
Every person I’ve talked to in Barrow about the seasons has said they prefer the winter to the summer, though. Too much wind in the summer, apparently. The negative seventy degrees and complete darkness is nothing when the world is stiller.
Speaking of the darkness— the street lights are so close here. They are placed probably fifteen to twenty feet apart outside of our front window. To light the place up during those dark months.
Something that Alexander touched on today– my first experience talking to a native about it– was the depression that accompanies the darkness. He mentioned his cousin’s suicide, and he mentioned how he never wanted to let depression rule him. And how he chose to embrace the winter and the dark– not let it take him.
He was a very positive and beautiful little man. I’m sure I’ll run into him again.
Tomorrow we are doing our official orientation to the area, which I am really interested in. Because we’ve been here 24 hours already, but barely know anything about the place that we’re in. We’re just kicking around, and getting in trouble on the ocean.
Yes, my teammates actually walked out on the melting sea ice. I was really scared for them from afar. And the local authorities went out and gave them a talking to.
And then briefed us on polar bears.
And then we had a team meeting out by the ocean– and I offered that we walk back to the university to finish this conversation, as I couldn’t give my full attention to details when there was quite possibly something sneaking up behind me on the ice— hiding its nose.
This place, man. It’s pretty wild. You feel like you’re in a town– a small town, but a safe town. But then you walk out of the building, and everyone is jumping you and warning you not to be the stupid tourist that you’re about to be.
So much, though.
So much to discover and write about.
So many people I want to hear.
So many people I want to share with the world.