There's Work If You Want It

Here is another installment of reflections on our time in Boone, Shari had her take, I had my own.  They essentially say the same thing -- we weren't ready to come home yet.  But it's all in the details, eh?  Viva la difference!

I don’t want to come across as Randian here, but there’s work if you want it.  Not being able to find gainful employment in the High Country of North Carolina really doesn’t match with my experience despite the recent economic downturn.  Of course it helps if you have a good relationship with people in your home town, and people who own businesses which could use your skills.  Nor does it hurt if you have skills, and if you care little that those skills might have you down on your belly in the crawl space of a century-old building removing a bucket load of human feces, urine soaked toilet paper and other such detritus from the wacked out plumbing.   Oh yeah, that’s what I’m talking about – that master’s degree comes in real handy right about then.  

You can’t really go home again.

When we decided to return to the Boone area to facilitate the change over in our lease, we thought we might stay a little while, hang out, find some part-time work, and keep it casual.  This would allow us to live cheaply, refill some of the savings account, and get to do all those things we love doing in the area, biking, paddling, hiking, camping, leisurely visiting with friends, etc.  I had such wonderful visions of doing a little guide work for the local rafting company, maybe do a little landscaping, and then spend the rest of the week walking in the forest, playing on a river, or sitting on the bench downtown with my guitar case open.  Just a scant email queries to a few friends and the offers started trickling in.  What began as a small stream soon became a torrent.  Over the last 2 months we worked for River Girl Fishing Company, Blue Ridge Learning Centers, River & Earth Adventures, a few friends and our folks.  Of course, we were flattered by all the demand; and of course, we said, “Yes,” to each opportunity we could possibly fit in.  After all, saying yes to what is freely given is one of our guiding principles since embarking on this journey.  This principle has offered us some of the best experiences we`ve had since embarking, and it has also opened the door for some of the best lessons.   In this case it’s one of those lessons which I probably needed to learn but didn’t necessarily want to go through the learning of it.

So, there I am underneath the old train depot building, the home of River Girl Fishing Company, lying near the overflowing pipe in a haz-mat suit sweating buckets and wondering how much bleach is too much to actually bathe in after this task.  Can I in some way, sanitize my brain for what I’m seeing here? 

Shari and I started working for River Girl about 3 weeks prior and started to become known as “the fixers.”   A few days prior to my crawlspace spelunking adventure the toilet started backing up and so I was called in to see what could be done.  Did you know that people will still take a dump in a non-flushable toilet despite the “out of order sign” on the lid, only then to feign surprise when the toilet overflows and their little contribution to our problem contributes all over the floor?  I needed back up. 

Enlisting the help of my friend and handywoman extraordinaire, Amy, we got down to it.  After much plunging, snaking, and simply not enough draining we concluded that the septic tank was most likely full.  Before we reached that final and somewhat expensive determination I thought I’d trace the outflow under the building from the toilet to the tank to confirm.  What I found beneath defies explanation; an old “Y” junction put in years before, remained uncapped as if trying in vain to service some long ago removed sink.  Once the septic tank stopped taking applications, all that plunging was forcing the waste pipe contents out of, in a most violent manner, the uncapped end of the “y.”  Underneath this quaint building on the banks of the New River, a river of shit was slowly making its way toward one of the central pilings. 

Put up or shut up

Did I really want to put this skill to use here?  I could have insisted that Kelly, The River Girl, get an actually plumber with his own haz-mat suit and fancy chemicals and pumps to go under and clean that shit out.  But what would have been the point of that?  I knew how to do what needed to be done, it needed to be done -- I didn’t see anyone else volunteering, so I did it. 

It’s not my formal education that got me to that enlightened moment underneath the floor boards of the old train depot; rather the dearth of experiences which were opened up to me as a result of that education.  For many years, the most interesting thing about my job at Appalachian was the many hats I chose to wear, the on-the-job learning of how to get something done.  Being in an environment which encouraged me to develop new skills and take on new responsibilities encouraged an attitude that I could do just about anything I set my mind to.  Being a homeowner didn’t hurt either.  So, the lesson this time around comes in the form of saying “yes” to too much.  Just because I can do something doesn’t necessarily mean that it’s good for me.

We have met the enemy and it is us. 

We all have our triggers; things that make us react in a specific way – sometimes despite our best intentions.  The life we created while we were in Boone was one of dedication to the programs and people with whom we worked, loved and played.  It kind of got out of hand because we weren’t listening to our own bodies telling us to slow it down.  We talked about balance, believed in balance, but in the end couldn’t put it into practice.  The more we did well, the more we seemed to take on until doing well just meant doing more.  

Since we’d been on the road, balance was staring us in the face with a bottle of mediocre wine and an open calendar.  Our settings for busy got recalibrated to a place where we felt an appropriate amount of engagement, in each other, in community, in service, in learning, in hobbies, and in activity.  But upon returning to Boone those old triggers kicked in, big time.  I felt drawn again to the pace we tried to keep while living there, as if the very water contained some sort of methamphetamine kick to the ego which makes me see how I can “fit it all in.”

How could I say, no to the people I love and the offers which came in?  These friends just wanted to be a part of our big adventure, help us get to the next stage, and maybe get their yard cleaned up.  I remain grateful for those opportunities, but I’m more humbled by the chance to see that I still have a lot more to learn.  I can’t expect the balance we found while on the road to extend to every place I go.  Balance isn’t really a destination.  We all have to face our shit in life, sometimes it’s the issues that keep resurfacing, and sometimes it’s that uncapped pipe which needs to be fixed before you can move on.

Thank you Boone for all you’ve given me.