Peacock Feathers.

So I spent a month in the backwoods of Maine. And when I say backwoods, I mean the middle of nowhere. If you know me well this won't surprise you, but I think I took four showers over the course of a month. I mean I averaged once a week right? I didn't wear deodorant all month, wore the same clothes most days, walked around sporting some prickly legs, and rarely looked in the mirror.

And it was absolutely marvelous.

Soon after I got home I met a friend, and some of their friends for dinner. It was someone I hadn't seen in awhile so I felt this pressure to appear like I had it all together. Whenever I see people from my youth, or recent past for that matter I have this desire for people to say, "Wow, Jen looks great" as I walk away. Does anyone else experience that? I worry that they'll think, "Wow, Jen really fell off the wagon since the last time I saw her..." but back to my previous train of thought. I spent about thirty minutes trying to figure out what to wear. The turqoise tank top over the purple one? The jean skirt or the capri pants? Perhaps the gym shorts? I put my hair up. I put my hair down. I put my hair up. I put my hair down. I felt myself feeling all stressed and worried. And annoyed that I was feeling that way. When I finally pulled myself out of the house, I had a great time catching up on life. As I drove away though, I felt this weight come off my chest. Not only did getting ready take me forever, there was this aura of competition in the evening. This fakeness. Vying for status. A covert jockeying for position, and the picture perfect life. I sat there, jobless, kind of homeless [if you ignore my rooves belonging to my parents], weari- hand me down clothes [thanks Rori and Danielle], sporting unbrushed hair and flip flops I've had for about five years [say yes to kenos]- feeling very inadequate. I turned over the key to my car, cranked The Welcom Wagon to drown out the rattling of the faulty air conditioner-belt-thingy and let the wind from my open windows blow the sludge from my thoughts.

I don't like this lifestyle. Struting around like peacocks, trying to display our together-ness in our feathers.

Currently, I'm sitting in a hotel room in Chicago and have seen my fair share of peacocks in the past couple days, and half the time it was my own reflection staring back at me in mirrors and windows. And after browsing rack after rack. Running my hands over hundreds of different fabrics and flipping a fair share of price tags, I was enticed. If only I had that cute olive high waisted skirt and that white blouse. And maybe add a pair of pumps. Or two. I want to have a pretty tail too. I want to have a list of accomplishments in hand, ready to display. I want to have pretty hair and a snappy, put together wardrobe. I want those long lost friends to say, "That Jen. She's going places." But by places they'll mean places of societal success. And I'm not sure those are the places I'll really want to be.

What was so refreshing about being in Maine, utterly ignoring normal hiegyene practices, was because there was no pressure. No pressure to measure up to an unseen standard. I didn't have to fluff my tail and evaluate how it compared to other tails. Instead of worrying about matching clothes, shoot- even remembering to change them, I was able to spend that time with the WILD one crew. I was able to share stories and hear stories. And ask ridiculous questions to which I mostly got answers like, "Where do you come up with these questions?"

I guess what I'm getting that is that without all the outter fluff, you have time to focus on things of substance. The things that at the end of the day are true and good and lovely. How am I loving people? Am I listening to what they are saying? Am I genuinely interested in their life, what's important to them? Am I taking time to to be still in the presence of the Creator? How am I challenging people to become their most whole selves? Am I seeing beauty in the trees, in the lakes, in the brief moments of sunshine, the early morning moose sightings, the bald eagles? Am I uncovering treasures in the words of profound thinkers and passages of scripture, and in the lives being written around me?

I want to run away to the back country again. Away from this pressure of society to look right, to achieve and wash my hair. I want to throw away my razor and wear ten different shades of blue in one outfit. But I can't bring myself to do that in normal life. So I'm trying to find a balance. I'm not sure if their is one, let alone if there even should be one. But maybe tomorrow I'll take a shower. And then put on the clothes I wore yesterday and strap on my smelly, very un-city-esque chacos. Throw on a little deodorant and stop to tell the doorman to have a good day with the time I would have spent brushing my hair.