Barriers and Blockades

For the past six weeks, the forest in which I have worked has been closed for deer management.  This closure was in place for all of the public access areas. We, as a school, were granted access to the forest on these days with the agreement that we would be gone by 12, an hour before the management began.

For six weeks, barriers and blockades were lined up at the entrance to the forest, a visual reminder to not enter. When we arrived in the morning, we would need to remove the barriers to open the space for children and families to arrive.  I often moved two of the three blockades, as the first one was moved by my colleague who arrived before me.

On Tuesday, I arrived at the entrance to see two blockades “blocking” the road.  This isn’t going to work, I thought to myself. Cars can come in, but when cars go to leave they will not have the space. Cars can not come and go through the same narrow path. I put the car in park, got out and began to remove the barriers as I had done for the past five weeks.  Except this time was different. This time, when I went to lift the barrier, one of the “legs” fell off. As I bent down to lift the leg and secure it back in place it occurred to me the meaning and significance of this action and I began laughing out loud, full on cackling.  Yes, yes, I said out loud to no one except myself, “This is what I have been doing. For the past five weeks I have been removing the barriers, the blocks that allow children and families to move freely. This is the work that I have been doing- literally and figuratively. Oh my, oh my.  This is it. I get it. Thank you!”  Once the barriers were removed and placed on the side of the road, I snapped a picture.

Inside at school I shared my delight with other teachers.  At the end of the morning, I was tasked with, as I had been for the previous five weeks, putting the barriers back in place so the public would not enter the space. (* During the the first week this management program, a police officer came into the school space as I was driving out. We nodded at one another as we passed. Police officers know that there is a port a potty on site and often come in to use it. That paired with the knowledge I had from early that morning, when a police officer was on site, had me thinking that they planned to sit at the space to monitor so that no one came in to access the site.  So I continued to drive and once at the gate wrapped a chain around to appear that the gate is “locked.” After I closed and “locked” the gate and was putting the barriers back in place, I saw the police officer driving around the gate and back on to the road. As they approached, their window was down and they said jokingly, “what are you trying to do? Lock me in?” We exchanged our stories about what we thought the other was doing and I shared that, the gate is never really “locked” it only appears so”).

So, on this final morning of the deer management, which also happened to be my final Tuesday with the school, I got out and put the barriers back in place. Seeing them through my rearview and side mirrors. Behind me.

Then, the next morning, which was my final day at the school, I arrived on site to see the barriers broken down and neatly stacked on the side of the road. I giggled.

And, as I drove out of the forest for the final time I glanced over to the space where the barriers once were, where they sat in tack as a visual reminder of what I was facing each day until that final morning. They were gone. Gone.

Yep. Gone.

All clear.

A beautiful metaphor for my time in the forest.  And my work on a larger scale.  Removing barriers and obstacles on the path so I, as well as others can move with freely with ease.

I do not leave with animosity, hate or regret.  Things changes. Seasons shifts. Wind comes. This is what I shared with the children.  I served my purpose there. I was needed for a time and that time has come to an end. I recognize these endings now, this discontinuity, these discontinuous events. They are becoming more and more frequent for me.  I see and accept that they are natural, a part of a larger play that is at work. Not all are able to see this, some can only see this relative level, the one of here and now created by the rational mind.  I took get dragged into this space when I forget. Forget that all is happening and unfolding for a reason, a reason that I often do not know.

I read a quote from Anand Ji, “The past does not know the future.” And neither do I. I simply step and arrive as I am called, in service as myself.

These past few weeks have been hard. I felt really challenged to speak up and confront the stuff that no one wants to address, and I knew it needed to be done. Every cell in my body was making it known that I had to take the step. The step in love, a step of love. And while I often feel like I do this work alone,  I know that I am not. I know that I am held by a huge support crew. And that this is my work. These weeks are mere glimpses in my life of the work that I have done and I will continue to do, for this is a gift of mine. To show up and face stuff head on, having the hard conversations that are necessary for growth.  My very presence stirs things up, shines a light on the stuff that is hidden away, tucked away, the stuff no one wants to see.  And, my presence is grounded in the reality of what is seen and true, not just to me, but to others. I, for some reason am the voice that is able to speak, that has the courage to stand up and make things known.

There is unity in this polarity. This seemingly separation and divisiveness. This pull and tug back and forth. I am reminded that in order to know love, one must know fear. To know another, one must know themselves. To know silence, one must know voice. To know dark is to know light. To know depth is to know height.

This is what I am doing. Getting to know myself on these various levels, in unique situations and through vast experiences.

I root to rise and with each step I take, I acknowledge and accept this even more.

For I would have it no other way.

With and in love and gratitude,

Sara

PS. On Saturday, I got into the car and Pearl Jam’s Rearview Mirror was playing. When I got into the car again, Release was playing. My sister, sister and I have a connection of Pearl Jam and after I left an audio recording of these events paired with the pictures, she sent me Pearl Jam’s Gone.