My Independence Day

When I told my friends at Canyon that I was headed to Lake Yellowstone completely alone for a weekend of rest and solitude, they promptly informed me that I was crazy (as if I didn't already know). But after arriving yesterday evening, I can say that it is perhaps the best decision I have made all summer.

Allow me to clarify that there is nothing or no one at Canyon from whom I need to escape; on the contrary, I love Canyon and everyone with whom I live and work there. However, anyone who has experienced community living would know that it provides neither privacy nor silence in anything more than miniscule amounts. Not only does this weekend mark nearly the halfway point of my stay here in Yellowstone, but tomorow is also Independence Day. For these two reasons I chose this weekend to celebrate my very own independence and get away for a few days. After visiting Lake last weekend with my friends' families, I thought, what a lovely place to stay on vacation. I'd love to stay there someday. It occurred to me only later that I could stay there whenever I wanted, and at no charge to me, other than the amount taken out of my paycheck every week for regular living expenses. I was eager to take advantage of such an opportunity, and a week later, I find myself here. Lake Village is situated literally yards from the beautiful high-elevation lake, surrounded by mountains. The hotel itself is a huge, summer-yellow wooden structure that resembles a 1950s country club, probably because during that time, the hotel's hay-day, it was the vacation spot of elite socialites who would be entertained nightly by the hotel's string quartet, dancing and drinking wine all the while. Although tourists no longer typically arrive in Yellowstone prepared with their cocktail dresses and tuxedoes, a string quartet still plays for guests in the lobby every evening, and Lake Yellowstone indeed still bears the faintest aroma of perfume and cigars I imagine it did all those years ago.

So, what exactly have I done here? Well, last night after dinner, I took a long walk around the Lake and a mile down the road to Fishing Bridge, a popular tourist site and photo-op. I got up early today and went for a run around the lake, enjoyed breakfast, and then read and drank coffee all morning in the comfy lodge, something I don't usually make time for. This afternoon I finished my book in the sunroom at the hotel and, after writing this blog, I plan on taking a nap and perhaps writing some letters. I'll spend the evening enjoying the string quartet, and will head back home to Canyon tomorrow morning. Despite my intentions, I have managed to meet several Lake employees, who are so nice and friendly. Contrary to what seems to be the popular opinion back at Canyon ("Won't you be so bored!?"), I instead wish I were able to stay here a few more days.

Admittedly, I had more reasons than just silence and the holiday to spend my weekend all alone here. I have had a lot on my mind recently and no time or place to let these thoughts be fully manifest. You see, since arriving at Yellowstone, I have been careful to take in every new experience that I can, even the ones that I'm not so excited about: I have been hiking almost daily; I have gone camping (without success- see blog for 6.22.09); I have not worn a stitch of makeup for a month, and I'm in dire need of a haircut, among other necessities whose accessibility I used to take advantage of. The way I see it, all of these things that are out of my typical range of experiences are giving me the opportunity to to make informed decisions about who I want to be, and who I don't want to be. After all, how can you know if you will identify with something if you never get out of your comfort zone and experience it? However, in my open-mindedness, I'm afraid that I may be neglecting some aspects of myself that make me me. Just as I don't want to miss out on activities or people who can enrich my life, I need to be cautious that I don't withhold any qualities I posess that could potentially enrich the lives of others, if only by the sheer diversity that these qualities contribute to the community as a whole. Furthermore, I have been patting myself on the back a lot recently for being so adventurous and open to new people and places, but I have forgotten that, unless I am changed for the better because of the people I have met here and the things that I have done, and unless I add these experiences like ingredients in the mixture of who I am, making them part of me, then they are mere expenditures of time and money, photographs mere records of aquaintances and activities rather than memories. I have failed to properly process much of what has happened since I arrived in the park. So, to speak candidly, I now give myself permission to not enjoy something; to not blend in with my surroundings when my true character does not encourage me to do so. I permit myself to forfeit self-imposed obligation; and, most importantly, to not let my independent nature prevent me from accepting kindness and love.

Also, I have recently felt like never before an overwhelming sense of gratitude. I am so undeserving of all that has been bestowed upon me. Who am I, that I get to live in arguably one of the most beautiful areas of North America? Who am I that I have attained so many friends here from all over the world, having made no effort to speak of with which to qualify myself for such a gift? Who am I to have a family who not only encourages me to see the world, but supports it in every way, flying me across the country and putting up with my unpredictable and too-infrequent calls from the dorm payphone? And for free (in fact, I'm paid!), I get to explore these mountains, canyons, lakes, and waterfalls, and see sunrises, sunsets, and night skies blanketed with more stars than I have ever laid eyes upon. Everyday I thank God for this beauty he created with me in mind, and for all of us to enjoy. I have wanted to write about this overflow of gratitude for weeks now, but have had neither the time, nor quite the words to say. I read the following passage today in a book by Elizabeth Gilbert, and it seems to perfectly encapsulate how I feel:

"In the end, though, maybe we must all give up trying to pay back the people in this world [and God, I'd like to add] who sustain our lives. In the end, maybe it's wiser to surrender before the miraculous scope of human generosity and to just keep saying thank you, forever and sincerely, for as long as we have voices."

So world, because it is all I can do, I say thank you. I really do wish I could do more, but my meager existence (which the mountains surrounding me magnify) offers me no resource with which to adequately do so. My voice, my most potent of weapons, can't even stand a chance. It is blown away over the lake, or lost in echoes through the mountains. Perhaps this is God's way of letting me know that my fortunate circumstances are not of my doing, but because of His Grace shown to me everyday through others. Maybe this is a clue to the only way any of us can appropriately express gratitude: by offering the same grace and kindness that is shown to us, whenever the opportunity presents itself.