I totally understand this reaction. The first time I went to Moosehide in the Yukon, it was completely magical. I was 30, homeless, road-tripping in the convertible and living a dream. Random fortuitous stuff kept happening in ways that seemed like they had to be part of some grand plan. Everything had a purpose, and everything fit together seamlessly.
The second time I went, I was nervous as all hell that it wouldn't be the same. And it wasn't. I had expectations -- thought things *should* happen one way rather than another. The people I worked with were different. The performers were different. New tribes came and old tribes didn't come back. People I'd met at the first one had promised to come back and of course didn't. One did, though, and the new folks were equally cool, if not cloaked in the magical aura of the first time around.
Five times in now, I have a much different relationship to the place. I'm a fixture; I'm familiar enough that the locals seek me out. I've worked with many of the locals over and over again and know them well. There are always new experiences -- from four-wheeling to throwing axes -- but now they fit into a much broader space. I no longer expect one Moosehide to sustain me; instead, each one renews my sense of the overall experience.
It's kind of funny: the Clark had some native tribes come in to dance and play music Sunday, and I like and appreciate watching it. But even though to all appearances it's much like what you'd see at Moosehide, I don't feel that same connection. Maybe it's conscious choice; maybe it's that I don't love the land as much as I do up north. Whatever it is, I accept it.
The other thing I've noticed is that I know better who I am now. Ten years ago, I just tossed myself into the current and let it carry me where it would. Now, I've learned what I need and how to get it, and am a bit more active to make sure I do. Now, the challenge is still being open to others whose journeys may be far different, but who would still understand completely what I've done, and might have a few good ideas I should listen to.
And alas, the cool grownups have always been far more interesting to me. It's to the point now where I wonder what I'll do when all those people 20 years older than I am, whom I connect with almost instinctively, start dying off.... [sigh]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2009-08-06 01:09 am (UTC)The second time I went, I was nervous as all hell that it wouldn't be the same. And it wasn't. I had expectations -- thought things *should* happen one way rather than another. The people I worked with were different. The performers were different. New tribes came and old tribes didn't come back. People I'd met at the first one had promised to come back and of course didn't. One did, though, and the new folks were equally cool, if not cloaked in the magical aura of the first time around.
Five times in now, I have a much different relationship to the place. I'm a fixture; I'm familiar enough that the locals seek me out. I've worked with many of the locals over and over again and know them well. There are always new experiences -- from four-wheeling to throwing axes -- but now they fit into a much broader space. I no longer expect one Moosehide to sustain me; instead, each one renews my sense of the overall experience.
It's kind of funny: the Clark had some native tribes come in to dance and play music Sunday, and I like and appreciate watching it. But even though to all appearances it's much like what you'd see at Moosehide, I don't feel that same connection. Maybe it's conscious choice; maybe it's that I don't love the land as much as I do up north. Whatever it is, I accept it.
The other thing I've noticed is that I know better who I am now. Ten years ago, I just tossed myself into the current and let it carry me where it would. Now, I've learned what I need and how to get it, and am a bit more active to make sure I do. Now, the challenge is still being open to others whose journeys may be far different, but who would still understand completely what I've done, and might have a few good ideas I should listen to.
And alas, the cool grownups have always been far more interesting to me. It's to the point now where I wonder what I'll do when all those people 20 years older than I am, whom I connect with almost instinctively, start dying off.... [sigh]
Welcome home.