This essay had to focus on home and
the different views, both concrete and abstract, that are associated
with that word.
"I think I'll follow the sun"
"Zephyr in the sky at
night I wonder/ Do my tears of mourning/ Sink beneath the sun.." So
begins Madonna's song called Ray of Light. It amazes me that music
can place people so far away, so far into another dimension of their
lives. This single verse starts my journey on a plane flying to the
beginning of the zephyr, the western wind; to the home I want to
have. I wasn't actually listening to this song when I traveled, but
now, as I read her lyrics, I am both shocked and delighted at the
connection they have to me and to Portland. It is also mere
coincidence that I traveled there. My boyfriend was training for his
job this past August (1998) and his company flew me to this
beautiful, spiritual place. Little did they know, I am sure, what an
effect this free ride would have on me.
I had slept nervously the
nights before my leaving, and the morning of the day I was to take
off, the butterflies in my stomach were playing kickball or some
furious sport because I just wanted to throw up. I had never flown
before except on my uncle's spray plane, but then I could still read
the lips of my family members waving from the ground.
The flight from Fargo to
Minneapolis scared me. I am a person who detests zero gravity and any
mention of the Wild Thing, so turbulence was not my best friend. Once
in Minneapolis, I decided I didn't need to go to Portland. A good way
to scare me was to put me on something that goes up and down fast.
The butterflies hadn't let me eat and now my stomach acids were
eating ME for lunch. This agony was equal to the pain of curiosity of
living on a monotonous Midwestern prairie. It was as if all my life,
I just wanted to see Canada, but at the border they wanted me to cut
my hair or give up playing tennis. Those other seemingly more
interesting places in the world wanted you to appreciate them more
through this crazy punishment. Well, it worked.
I realize now that it was
the change in landscape that I longed for. Driving in the Midwest
puts you to sleep. Yes, the patchwork quilt of fields is unique to
our area but does it compare with Mt. Rainer? This majestic creation
whispered to me as I awoke to its physical wonder on the plane that
morning (I had actually passed out from exhaustion). Drool tinkled
from my lips as they spoke- "Oh Wow." And I had to rub my eyes clear
of North Dakota sleep. I was a ping pong ball the rest of the flight
bouncing between the paddles or rather windows on either side. My
eyes couldn't take in enough. The houses and oval shaped trees seemed
to stretch forever, hugging at mountain bellies and jumping over the
Columbia River. I wanted this first flight on a plane to be my last.
I would not have cried if I was never let home again. The people
sitting next to me, possibly even from Portland, were just as
enthralled as I was peering at their beloved Mt. Hood. That mountain
or any other mountains of this region were like the uprising of
rebellious ideas that made me want to leave North Dakota. Those large
hills gave off an authentic atmosphere. And a definite excitement as
well.
Once off the plane and
driving around, my eyes continued their hyper dance among the sights
of unique trees and the millions of Volkswagen vans. It wasn't
raining like everyone says, but that wouldn't have bothered me anyway
considering that I like rain and how it acts as a natural
confessional to cleanse your spirit. The Midwest had clouded my mind
with fertile soil and muddy spring snow. I could grow as a person
here. I kept thinking this as Jason and I drove the overly luxurious
Intrigue into the city.
Unlike the highways found
in North Dakota or the Twin Cities, Portland's twisted and curled
around mountains and ventured over rivers acting as people's lives
entangled in life, and now Jason and I found ourselves meshed in with
them also. The suburbian landscape reminded me of Minneapolis but
turning a corner and spotting a mountain, surely did not.
I remember our
conversation out to the ocean that afternoon on highway 26. Jason, my
boyfriend, had been thinking heavily about us and while I am not
going to tell of our talk, this conversing did make me realize how
much of me is so trusting, so gut instinct, so much a feeler of what
is occurring in my life at a certain point. I kept bringing up
questions that I had about my teaching- "Can a teacher be a feeler
and a thinker?" "How am I, a person of an abnormally peaceful nature,
going to discipline eighth graders?" A middle verse in that very song
by Madonna is "She's got herself a universe." Throughout that
discussion with Jason and in my education classes, I have come to the
realization that teaching is my "piece of universe" and Portland's inner city would be a
great place to spread myself and begin my own world. Being from the
Midwest, I have an edge in getting a job but I fear that I will not
know exactly what I am getting into since I am sure that all students
are not like the ones found in good old North Dakota.
Perhaps it is my naive
nature, or my trusting soul, but I feel that all human beings have
some good in them.
I was born an Aquarius in
Wahpeton or rather at Breckenridge's St. Francis Hospital. Everyone
surrounding me either knew my dad or mom and there was never any
ghettos or drive- bys to worry of. Our greatest worry as a family was
probably getting caught in a blizzard or falling into the river. No
one here seems to live life from the heart, everyone has to think
logically. It drives me nuts. I consider Wahpeton my first home and I
am proud of it but going back to even visit feels like I am fighting
the flow of the Red River and the conservativism that works as it's
current. I am fighting the flow of life.
Being an Aquarius makes
me a water bearer ruled by the element air. This is amazing to me
because once in Astoria that Saturday I immediately noticed the air.
The air there was intoxicating and my lungs became exhilerated. Their
ocean air fills the body with happy, almost giddy molecules. Jason
persuaded me to the top of the Lewis and Clark sight-seeing tower
which marks the ending point of their expedition and I took all the
air Oregon had to offer inside of me while Jason begged me to take a
picture of the barge on the Columbia. I can't believe now how much
that reminds me of something my own parents would do, like when they
took us kids to Fort Abercrombie. That was different somehow. We
actually studied Lewis and Clark's route in high school. It felt kind
of neat to know I had taken the path of past travelers across the
Midwest into the Northwest. No wonder they stopped there and founded
Astoria. It is still beautiful and the streets are crazy. They have
prohibited skateboards and rollerblades in this town because of the
steepness of the streets and avenues.
Standing on Cannon Beach
later on that day, for just one moment all I did was stand there with
my dress caught up in the ocean water feeling the air smooth across
my face. I was in my perfect state with water and wind. I began
visioning my little blanket in the sand, and me hollering at my
children as I tried to correct papers. The water was cold but all I
was thinking was- "This is the ocean!" And I told Jason to wave with
me across it because I was sure there was a Japanese girl and boy
doing the same at that very moment across the vast water. He did it
but was more concerned I check out Haystack Rock.
So he and I walked over
to Haystack Rock (a picture of this is found in most encyclopedias)
and played and adventured in the eroded pennisula's crevices. There
is a five hundred dollar fine for climbing it and this fact took me
back to driving in Mesa, Arizona when my Grandma told us of Mt.
Superstition and how every climber who had ever tried to climb it had
gotten lost and never returned. She claimed that the number of
climbers was at thirteen but I think that would be too cool.
As we drove farther down
the coast seeing the signs for the Oregon Bike Trail and signs
warning you of rocks and slides, we came upon a town straight from
Minnesota. The town's name was Spanish, Manzanita, but the view
looked that of a lake town with the stores and cabins right on the
shore like Detroit Lakes. We ate at the Sundowner Tavern and were
served by a woman who appeared to be the daughter on the Beverly
Hillbillies show. We left just in time to witness the sunset.
The sunset on an ocean is
gorgeous. The ones I have seen in the Midwest are quite a sight too
but the ocean reflects all the brilliant colors back onto itself as
if to admire it's own magnificence in a mirror. My pictures of this
moment are happy ones because not only did I capture the sunset but
all the couplings of people like Jason and I who were on the beach
staring at the colors in the west.
My Aquarian heart had had
too much and I nodded off on the way home, home being Beaverton, a
suburb of Portland. The next day was a trip to Multnomah Falls and
that was an adventure, but the most intriguing second was the driving
in Beaverton just before hitting the highways. Two blocks from the
apartment we came upon a street that was more deserted than the
others. No big developments or apartments. And crazy enough, it was
North Dakota Street. I almost lost my breakfast through my nose.
Almost instantly I thought that this was an omen of some sort. If I
moved here, I would still be close to the Midwest. This street in
Beaverton, these memories I hold in my soul, will always keep me
nearby to the places that have really groomed me and made me
me.
My flight out of Portland
was at seven in the morning that next Monday and as I checked in the
stewardess announced that the flight was overbooked and that if I
were to give up my seat I would receive a six hundred dollar airline
voucher. Jason and I immediately looked at each other- he, wanting
the money, and I, wanting to stay there. But I left. I knew that
being from North Dakota made me have that responsibility to get back
when I was suppose to.
Arriving in Fargo hurt.
The landscape was suddenly so flat, it appeared indented. I held back
tears until in my apartment, and once inside this little home that I
did love when I had discovered it, I felt awkward and began to sob. I
was so tired and yet, I thought that if I felt asleep I would forget
Portland or it all would have been a dream.
"She's flying/ Trying to
remember/ Where it all began/ She's got herself a little piece of
heaven/ Waiting for the time when/ Earth shall be as one.." I am
always trying to remember if it was at particular point when I
decided I needed Portland but this is like trying to recall when I
first knew I loved Jason, or when I knew teaching was for me. It was
most likely the pain of waiting and the delight in finally arriving
at my destination. I changed out there. I wasn't just "Traveling down
this road/ Watching the signs as I go...." Portland was the two by
four that hit me and got me thinking straight- "I think I'll follow
my heart/ It's a very good place to start..." (this is from her song
Sky Fits Heaven.)
Whichever area of this
planet I end up claiming as home, my place in this world will always
fulfill me as a person, as an Aquarian breathing in the best air
available. Aquarians, or water bearers, have Uranus as their ruling
planet and for me that means I am a person of change. Aquarians are
idealistic humanitarians concerned with the larger issues of the
world. My status in my lifetime is to become the best person I can
be. I feel right now that the place my spirit can be free is Portland
and if not I will keep searching. I am at home within myself, now I
just need a landscape to match up with it. I am who I am and I am
still growing. As I come to this amazingly helpful realization about
myself, I feel very much at peace. Anything is possible now -"And I
feel like I just got home."
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