Another day off! Huzzah! And it’s still sunny!
Josh and I decided to have adventures today. We trekked out to the gondolas to take a ride up
the mountain (there are many, of course, and I’m sure this one had a specific name, but I don’t know that. I know it was one of many big mountains in the alps). The view, and experience, was insanely gorgeous and wonderful. I did get a little nervous — the gondola was really high (does the picture demonstrate this well?). But — totally worth it.
Once the ride stopped, we were greeted by this lovely wood carving.
Then, we started hiking. We went, up and up and up, for about an hour. I can’t even describe the views. I’ll send you to the full collection of pictures on my facebook page (I think you should be able to see them by just clicking on this link:
pictures).
The air was noticeably thin; I’ve been slightly aware of this overall in Saas Fee, but only to the extent that it could just as well have been my imagination (not that I’m prone to over-thinking the physical or anything…). Here, I felt the strain. And we hiked at a pretty good pace (as I’m constitutional unable to walk slow) — for a while at least. Then I did in fact start slowing down. And maybe emitting a bit of a squeaking noise from my lungs (at least Josh told me that later, on the way down; apparently I freaked him out a little). Anyhow, I began to feel warn out, and decided to actually stop before I was completely done for (i.e. a moment of wiseness and clarity -- I'm definitely getting old). I'm often frustrated to find actual limits to my body, but I've also gotten better at accepting them (and not hurting myself). We reached a bit of a plateau with a large rock, perfect for sitting. And so I sat.
[this is me sitting. the other is my view from the sitting (before josh hiked up further)]
Josh continued up the mountain — all the way to the top! Quite impressive. Read his story on his own
blog.
But let’s return to my sitting. As I begin this sentence, I know I’ll not do justice to the moment, not even come close to the experience. But I’ll try. I sat there, just looking. The clear sky, brisk breeze, and quietness surrounding me. Small noises — the clack of the hoofs of mountain goats (or something) on rock, the wind blowing through, occasionally another hiker passing by. But mostly, quiet. The surroundings dwarfed me, but I didn’t feel small. I felt — peace. I realized the extent of this rare, beautiful moment. I was sitting in the middle of huge mountains on a
gorgeous day, here for an amazing academic experience where I spent my days contemplating the world from different perspectives; I will return to the states to start work on my dissertation, the culmination of these years of study, the point where I finally explode in my own ideas and expression; my family and friends are all relatively healthy and happy and in moments of their own stability; I read a really good email that morning. I felt the extent of my privilege — a life of my own building, where, for the most part, I really do what I want to do, following my passions and interests. I’ve overcome fears of leaving home, of change, and, even when still scary, I pretty much jump into new experiences (or push myself, at least). For one brilliant moment, every aspect of my life — professional, familial, personal, worldly, and otherwise — is peaceful, beautiful, and good.
In short, I am happy.
I do fear that that whole paragraph still can only sound trite or cliche, but that’s as close as I can get to the moment. So (Akua particularly, who asked for more of “me” in this blog) — there you go.
After about an hour or so, Josh returned from the peaks of the mountain, and we hiked and talked and laughed (and almost got lost a few times) for about two more hours — the rest of the way back down to town. I’m lucky to be here with such a great friend. Three weeks in close quarters with an other can be tricky, but I think we’ve done well, and I can’t begin to recount our amazing conversations, from the profound to the profane (and definitely the inane).
We made it back to the hotel in time for lunch, which we ate quickly and in relative silence. We were hungry and exhausted. We then retreated to our apartment for naps. Three hours later, we emerged for dinner and the end of the night.
Really, a spectacular day.
don't worry, it's not really the end of the world.
the mountain (there are many, of course, and I’m sure this one had a specific name, but I don’t know that. I know it was one of many big mountains in the alps). The view, and experience, was insanely gorgeous and wonderful. I did get a little nervous — the gondola was really high (does the picture demonstrate this well?). But — totally worth it.
gorgeous day, here for an amazing academic experience where I spent my days contemplating the world from different perspectives; I will return to the states to start work on my dissertation, the culmination of these years of study, the point where I finally explode in my own ideas and expression; my family and friends are all relatively healthy and happy and in moments of their own stability; I read a really good email that morning. I felt the extent of my privilege — a life of my own building, where, for the most part, I really do what I want to do, following my passions and interests. I’ve overcome fears of leaving home, of change, and, even when still scary, I pretty much jump into new experiences (or push myself, at least). For one brilliant moment, every aspect of my life — professional, familial, personal, worldly, and otherwise — is peaceful, beautiful, and good.
Yup, those are my feet on a tightrope, balancing about 2ft off the ground. Tres, one of the guys here brought a — um, tripline? I’ve lost the word — but a rope-ish line that he drew between two giant trees in the woods. I overheard Sophie talking about practicing on this line the previous afternoon, and slowly moved my way into the conversation. I’ve been attempting to be a bit more social and actually get to know the people here. If you know me well, you know that genuinely doing this takes me some time. I may look like Mom, but I continue to carry Dad’s constitution. In other words, I’ll smile and nod and be polite and academic and such, but making that next move to actually know someone usually takes strong effort and movement outside of my comfort zone. Occasionally it happens that I’m naturally really drawn to someone, but that is rare and quite special, and hasn’t really happened here yet.
Then they asked if I wanted a turn. Now, again, you may know that I’m not known for my, hm, grace in physical movement. If there’s a hair on the rug, I’ll trip over it. Hell, I don’t even need the hair — I do that tripping-fake-running thing on pavement all the time. Almost every significant injury I’ve had has come from ridiculous circumstances, like breaking a finger by rolling a ball on the ground, or taking my dog outside. So, I was not optimistic. And I hate not being good at something. Combined? This activity included more risk than one might first anticipate. But I climbed up, and could stand straight while only barely touching the tree next to me. At various turns, both Tres and Sophie offered hands/shoulders for balance as I walked across, and generally I only needed them for that — a light touch and a small bit of balance. Okay, there were occasional desperate grasps at the help, but I never fell off. Actually, it was a tremendous experience, far more mental than physical (though strong abs help. yay sit-ups). This required focus, patience, and trust in my body. The moment I felt fear, I’d wobble, but if I trusted that my foot would find the rope in front of me, if I both held my body tightly and relaxed into the movement of the rope, I could negotiate the space. Lovely life metaphor, no? And more physical of a workout than just plain meditation. Thus, I recommend it highly.
-- not the standard therapist note-taking, but creations of art, drawing, words, concepts.
s.
example/metaphor for ethical interaction as transubjectivity with stings of shared affect connecting us in severalities -- groups of a few who engage in/through matrixial spaces. We move thickly through her work -- she reads a few lines, breaks out to explain/complicate concepts, to elicit questions. In the Lacanian psychoanalytic tradition, her work is a labarynth of terminology -- matrixial gazes, borderspaces, encounter events; trans-inscription, -subjectivity, -formations; m/Other, wit(h)nessing, beside(d)ness, fascinance, subsubjectivity... And the notes are as spiralic as the theory. And/but the whole class is engaging intensely, making the experience far more experiential.
