Success?

Be forewarned, it's been a while and I've been thinking a lot so this post is rather lengthy and somewhat weird:

I have been avoiding doing this. I feel like the main reason is because I've been waiting for things to improve, for conditions to be right, for there to be just the right moment when the motivation or inspiration I needed would come to me instead of having to take initiative and sit down and write. Another reason is that I feel like my January post was a bit of a pity-party about my difficulties with my malaria medication and subsequent woes, and that to write another post that is... what is the opposite of up-lifting?... down-dropping??... for me to write another post like that would not be what people would want to read. But that's not really the point- is it? To write what I project onto another as their desire? Then what is the point? Over the past few weeks there is an adage that has been floating around in my mind; if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all. What a load of crap that is. If people only said nice things all the time, nothing would ever be resolved. Nice isn't about biting your tongue, nice is about using your tongue to spit out truth framed in a way that is constructive and activating. "Don't say anything at all" is a cop out. I think, then, that I will say stuff. And write it.

This semester has been hard. I am tired now and battling through some why-am-I-doing-this questions. I've been through my doubts before about helping to provide an incredible opportunity like this for kids who have lived their lives hopping from one incredible opportunity to another. I won't revisit that here. What I do want to visit here is more introspective. I'm realizing that something I have thought true of myself, and liked about my character- that I do things I enjoy and enjoy doing things just to do them, not looking for recognition or appreciation- is not all together true. I've come to realize that recognition and appreciation are really important to me, and I'm not sure how this realization makes me feel. I've been thinking about this both on the short-term scale of my current work, as well as on the long-term scale of my career overall. First the short term.

We've been struggling this semester with group dynamics. We are 8 students and three instructors and there is a very obvious split between the two. There are splits within the student group as well, and the result of this is a semester swirling with unresolved storms that brew below the surface. The layers of our experiences that we have built into our common foundation remind me of the layers of a Montana winter's-worth of snow. Different types of snow fall and build upon each other on Montana's mountain slopes; some are sticky and compact, some are lofty and bulky, some layers crusty and icy. When slopes are gradual and the temperature is cool, the frozen arms of the crystals of each type of snow reach out and grasp onto one another; the layers remain linked and stable and solid. When slopes steepen and temperatures rise, the crystals of snow begin to melt into spheres and detach from other crystals. Gravity and pressure begin to push upon the layers, powder slips on slick icy crust, the foundation loses integrity and avalanche ensues. After each avalanche we start over again, building layer by layer, each time becoming more and more cautious, biting our tongues and tip-toeing as we push the boulder of the semester up the tenuous frozen slope of our fissured mountain. Dramatic, no? It's not as bad as all that- some days are great, some days we go sledding. I've had wonderful moments with every single student, I haven't given up looking for teachable moments, I keep pouring out layers and reaching out crystally arms. But I do bite my tongue, I do tip-toe, and I proceed with the expectation that the ground will slip out from beneath my feet. That prophecy has so far been fulfilled.

So how does this relate to recognition and appreciation? I've learned that after each avalanche I am a lesser teacher. When students draw back their hands, I draw back my own instead of pushing myself harder to reach out to them. When gossip falls like drops of dye into pool, I stew in it instead of getting up and getting out and rinsing off. In the absence of "thanks Jess" I thank less. If my requests for ideas or activities are met with dull eyes and weak efforts, I read a book or go for a walk instead of seeking out the root the apathy or the forum that would inspire others to put forth their own ideas. I get tired, I get down trodden, and I want to give up. I know that environment and culture effect the way an individual operates and performs, and that I am not above this system- but I have never taken the time to really examine the way an apathetic and indifferent environment effects me personally and professionally. It is sobering and disappointing.

Taking this out large is sobering as well, but in a slightly different way. Lukin and I had a conversation about this a couple of weeks ago and it has stuck around in my head. Is the idea of success something I can truly define for myself? By many standard I am not operating in a successful career. I work year-long contract jobs with little to not opportunity for upward mobility and bounce- often without health-care- from country to country feeding off of adventure and education and curiosity. I'm often broke, occasionally contract tropical diseases, but more often I have been incredibly lucky and have been taken under the wings of of people and cultures of or other than my own and given patient training on the many ways to be a human being. I quite love it, but have never believed that this is anything that I would call a career. In these endeavors I have not sought or expected recognition or appreciation- I've understood that my rather unconventional path through my twenties would perhaps raise some eyebrows and some doubts. But I've found reward and growth in these experiences that have left me even-eyebrowed and doubtless, and that's enough for me. Now I am turning homeward.

In recent months I have changed course from pursuing a big-impact NGO/policy work position in Kyrgyzstan, to pursuing further language studies (Spanish) and teaching certification in Austin, Texas in hopes of finding a teaching position at a high-need public school in the American South. This is a dramatic change of course and something into which I have put a great deal of time and consideration. In doing so I have come to face the fact that a significant factor in my drive to work in Kyrgyzstan was my desire to pursue a path that would be considered conventionally successful, even oddly glamorous. My aspiration was to be a big deal by working my way up into a big deal organization like UNIFEM or UNICEF to help catalyze change. I felt that if I put in that time and effort and gained a level of success like that I would not only be in a position to help others, but also in a position to prove myself- my intellect, my capabilities, my potential. That I would receive the recognition and appreciation that I sought in following that path. Then if I wanted to do something different (like teach in the rural South) after a decade or so, when I was burnt out or ready for something different, I could do so knowing that I had "made it," that I could do it, and that I was just choosing not to anymore. But a decade is a long time to spend on a proof.

Thus the doubts about my ability to define my own success. Thus the change in plans. And now I find myself trying to release myself from the illusory pressure resulting from expectations of me that I have projected onto others. I'm also escaping from the pressure of my work by reading a book about the fabricated nature of reality proposed within the Tibetan Buddhist tradition, which has doubtless contributed to the contemplative nature of this post. Funny how that happens. Enough of that.

As for right now, I am in Sichuan Province helping the students design service activities for 150 children who have been relocated to a make-shift boarding school here until their home city of Wenchuan (the epicenter of the May 2008 earthquake) is brought back on its feet. We have been here for a week or so and will stay for a few more days before we head to the mountains o of the West (many of us begrudgingly) away from the bright lights- big (13 million) city of Chengdu with it's comfy hostels and Western restaurants. It is good to be on the road and despite the difficulties I've had in sharing my passion for it with others in this group, China still fascinates and energizes and challenges me, and I am glad to be here and moving in it.

Lukin called yesterday from Yangshuo, a city in China's far south, and it was good to talk to him about his first impressions of this place. It is good to feel connected to him through the sights and sounds and smells that present themselves similarly across this big country. In just over three weeks I will be back at home in Kunming and Lukin will be there and we will begin our last couple of months of this year of globe-trotting. Though over the past few weeks I've felt like the horse who has just caught sight of the barn, I'm holding back from running. Even if I stand still, the next few months will slide quickly like snow beneath my feet.