I’ve compared being at Goddard to Brigadoon (the magical place that comes awake for only one day every 100 years) as well as to falling down the rabbit hole (go ask Alice). But actually Lewis Carroll’s Alice might apply far more although there are many such Alices among us, all looking for what they might discover and how to find true home.
The air is warm and damp (mid-80s and humid) as opposed to dry and hot (like the 109 predicted for Kansas today). The rain comes often. The wind blows lightly. The nights cool to a glistening dark blue sky.
My work here is big at times, all-encompassing with days that start early and end late, and yet there are pockets of beauty, calm and surprise. Today, for example, after a 90-minute advising group meeting in the round room with the round table, I met with some students, worked on some evaluations of student progress reviews, did some email catch-up, and then slipped off to the near-by swimming hole where the water was bathtub-warm on the surface and clear and cold below. I swam across the pond (almost all the way) and back, thinking of how differently I swim than any of the Olympians.
Once back on campus, sat in a half-circle of students, friends and family to watch on of my students present her astonishing and powerful work on helping students connect with the natural world. Against the backdrop of tall trees, I watched the wind twirl an errant fern and the light dapple the leaves and all of us.
On the way back to my office, hoola hoops, which is not surprising given the environment of this Wonderland-Brigadoon-Rabbit-Hole where I get to live on too much passion and caffeine, not enough sleep or space to take it all in, and occasional just-right-ness when I can listen to someone’s truest stories, callings and questions while the wind skims the top of the firs and pines.
I’ll cross back through the mirror to my other home in less than a week, but for now, I’m at home in this wonder.