Sunshine, ocean, palm trees, and the journey

Last week, from Thursday to Sunday, was the mid-year Service Adventure leaders' retreat. With people coming from Colorado, Kansas, Oregon, New Mexico, Pennsylvania, and Alaska, we convened in sunny San Diego.

We stayed here at this house

where there was a piano

but more importantly, there was a lemon tree

and an orange tree

and a jade tree

right in the backyard.

We ate a lot (A LOT) of delicious food.

We walked along docks

and beaches

and a sand castle created by an independent professional artist.

Some of us (Leah) drenched ourselves in Pacific Ocean waves. Others of us splashed in the shallows. Others just watched the sun set.

We visited Balboa park, home of a gigantic tree

contortionist-dancer-acrobats

more dancers

and lots of mind-blowing cacti.

When we weren't out exploring the city, though, we were having meetings and conversations about everything related to Service Adventure. Not only was it helpful to share stories and questions about how the year is going, but it was encouraging on a broader-strokes level. Being at leaders' retreat gave me new energy to return to work and new excitement about the transformative power of this program. I was energized by the stories of former program participants who have, sometimes years later, expressed gratitude for the ways they could now see that their lives had been changed for the better. I also, in hearing about past and present challenges and sometimes great pain in Service Adventure households, strangely found a thread of hope that emerged. I felt strongly the sense that, most of the time, it is worth it to confront the mental and emotional struggles that arise.

A poem came to mind: 

Diving Into the Wreck

by Adrienne Rich

First having read the book of myths,
and loaded the camera,
and checked the edge of the knife-blade,
I put on
the body-armor of black rubber
the absurd flippers
the grave and awkward mask.
I am having to do this
not like Cousteau with his
assiduous team
aboard the sun-flooded schooner
but here alone.

[...]

First the air is blue and then
it is bluer and then green and then
black I am blacking out and yet
my mask is powerful
it pumps my blood with power
the sea is another story
the sea is not a question of power
I have to learn alone
to turn my body without force
in the deep element.

And now: it is easy to forget
what I came for
among so many who have always
lived here
swaying their crenellated fans
between the reefs
and besides
you breathe differently down here.

I came to explore the wreck.
The words are purposes.
The words are maps.
I came to see the damage that was done
and the treasures that prevail.
I stroke the beam of my lamp
slowly along the flank
of something more permanent
than fish or weed
[...]

There's more, and it's worth the read, but these are the lines that, for me, connect strongly to the experience of living in intentional community. The air down here is different. It's blue and bluer and green and sometimes black, and you breathe differently. Sometimes, in living closely with others who see the best and the worst of you (and you of them), you come across the damage that was done earlier. Scars we all have. The imperfections of being human. But amidst it all, you find the treasures too. And that's where the beauty and redemption come in.

This, I think, is why so many people react negatively to the idea of living in community. We don't want other people to see our scars, and we're deeply afraid that the damage will overcome the treasures. But this weekend, I was viscerally reminded of my dearly held belief that this is the way to become the best person I can be. Intentional community is a mirror that reflects to me my worst patterns, and with enough practice and grace and prayer, I can use that to become a better version of myself.

This weekend, in a way, felt like a renewal of vows. I've committed again and again to diving into the wreck of messy relationships and flawed humans, and I will continue to re-commit to this my entire life. To extend grace time and again. To pursue deeper relationships when shallow ones feel easier. To be vulnerable. To try. To forgive. To show up in the difficult and raw and emotional moments and let God do the rest.