up on the roof

I never know what to expect when I hop in a suburban (well, two suburbans) with students and two colleagues and head out on a Jr. Experience adventure.  It is never what I imagine, quite frankly.  But sometimes, when I'm lucky, it is more cup-filling than cup-draining.  Such was the case this year in New Mexico.  A wonderful group of students who inspired me to be bold and adventurous and hard-working.  Two colleagues with whom I worked beautifully as a team.  And three homes that are truly better, more comfortable places for the work that we did.  Trips to canyons.  Quiet mornings spent watching the sun rise from my bed and then coffee enjoyed in the crisp air of the 6:00 a.m. hour.  Evenings with a moon that grew to be full while we were in Tohatchi.  And days in the brutal sun doing work that made me forget that I was hot or perhaps not wearing enough sunscreen.  I was very much in the moment.  Which is very much my work of the summer.  To be present.  With people.  With myself.  With my surroundings.
I will write much more, but I had to start with my rooftop experience.  At Rose's house, one of our tasks was to repair (well, replace) the roof.  The students were not allowed up there so mostly it was Daric, DJ, and John up on the roof.  But for a little while I got to climb up to the rooftop with them.  To pull up nails.  To help lay shingles.  Or, as they laughed, to bring the wind to the roof.  The wind was a blessing and a curse in New Mexico, and even more so on the roof.  It brought movement to the otherwise stagnant heat...but it also blew sand into our eyes and noses (and really everywhere!).  And when you were on the roof, it threatened to blow you off.  Or at least to blow your hardhat off of your head if you didn't hold on to it.  And it was in one of those great gusts that I felt it - the feeling of being present.  With every fiber of my being clinging to the roof in an effort not to tumble to the ground below I got it.  My mind, my body, my thoughts, they had to be there.  Not on the dinner that we were having that night or the meeting we would have after dinner or the guest speaker or my 'to do' list back at home.  No.  I could only be there.  Bracing myself against the wind.  Protecting my hardhat from sailing across the air waves.  And staying in the moment.  It was so liberating.  So freeing.  So calming - even with the wind blowing through my ears as if it was a freight train passing through my head.  Such a good reminder of how to be.  Present.