12.06.02 - 3:36 pm

last night i was restless. i had napped and woken up at 10pm.

i paced campus. this is a long task. up the hill, down again, into staff dining, down to the production office. up to the cafe. peering mindlessly into the nag champa soaked candlelight of the empty cafe. there's never anyone there, no one i know anyway. i always check though. i realized on my third lap towards staff dining that i was looking for jon because i was in need of connection. i decided that was the wrong approach, mostly because there are a lot of other people here that i long to understand, and only one summer to try. so filling up the Intense Connection need with jon every time would be a cop out.

i ran into barry, his mojo stick, and joe. i mentioned my restlessness and barry said "you should go find abrah, she has a 40oz in her and she has lots of energy."

barry is wise. joe has long black dreads with wonderful things braided into them. he's hard to describe. really hard to describe. but when a fox in heat shrieked in my campground, he told me: be careful, they can smell fear. i have a friend who had a fox in heat go right for her jugular because he smelled her fear. and he refused to admit he was lying. his eyes glimmered slightly.

so i found abrah and we sat in candlelight talking, with jason as our witness. i felt loved and comfortable. sleepy and warm. flowing, words and acceptance. jason is a whole other journal entry. he said you kids were in same pod coming down.

i've been saying, mostly to peter but maybe to people around here too, that i haven't been asking a lot of questions since i've been here. that's not entirely true, i realized last night. i've just been asking totally different questions, gentler questions than before.

later in my tent, the wall made of shadows of trees, i thought about how we live here. all mundanities, or at least, normal life mundanities, are removed from us. we do not buy food, clean our own bathrooms, deal with getting to and from work. those types of mundanities are such a large part of daily life, especially in a city. it drains us. because we are taking care of each other so that we don't have to worry about our own personal mundanities, we have time. so much time. we use the time to relate to each other on levels deeper than are available in other settings. it's a ride. sometimes it feels out of control, i'm flying towards the center of a huge group of people. i don't know them. but i know them.

meanwhile, i've been away from peter just long enough that i feel like i'm losing my footing just a bit. the distance (geographical) and the distance (in time) has grown wide enough that the last time i saw him is no longer a valid grounding point. i need to see him. and i need to talk to him on a phone that doesn't suck.