Self-Marginalization

This week has been beautiful, challenging, and spontaneous; it has truly pushed me out of my comfort zone. 

I have started owl-calling, which means I have night shifts for work now. I arrive at work an hour before sunset, quad out to where the first owl-calling station is, and I begin work just after sunset. 

The woods are so breathtaking at sunset. The hues of the landscape become soft, tinted, muted. The sky -- clear. The breeze -- calm and warm. The branches -- still. 

Right now I'm working with another person at all times. It's quite comforting and I always feel completely at ease. But soon, I'll be working on my own route. People will still be nearby, but I'll be doing my own stations, and they'll be doing theirs. While doing these night shifts, there is definitely many opportunities to come into contact with mountain lions, hogs, and bears. 

I'm going to have to learn to trust myself and my own capabilities; to genuinely know and believe that my body and mind will take care of me in any situation -- that I can take care of myself. 
It's so interesting to have a job that puts me in situations that actually make me use my body and the way it has evolved to function; I actually utilize my body's strength and senses for a LIVING. 

To do this job definitely puts me out of known and comfortable territory; it constantly pushes me to get to know nature and myself so much better than I ever thought possible. 

A friend spontaneously visited me this weekend, and Saturday night we were talking about my job and backpacking. We were talking about how the more growth-opportunity situations you choose to put yourself in, the more you're peeling down to the core of who you really are; you're shedding "surface" layers and getting to a deeper and more tangible YOU. We talked about how, the more of these situations you place yourself in, the more difficult it is to relate and connect with people on the same level. And in lieu of these situations, my friend then wisely stated that when people do this, 

"You are knowingly marginalizing yourself." 

I found so much power in this statement. I think in many situations (or with lifestyle choices) -- but not all -- people have  two distinct choices: 
1. To do something less daring and less unusual, in order to maintain compatibility with their peers; to keep things comfortable. However, the person will know that they are missing out on an experience that could further their own personal growth and well-being. 
2. To do something spontaneous, unusual, daring, and isolating, while very well-knowing that the experience could make you have less things in common with -- or possibly even grow apart from -- some of your peers. This is the self-marginalization. 

Neither option is wrong. Both hold value and weight. And some times you can have both; you can have unusual experiences, but still be comfortable with your peers. 
While talking with my friend this weekend, we realized that through my job, doing things like studying abroad, our hobbies/interests, etc. -- that we self-marginalizing ourselves from the majority. We've noticed that it is becoming more difficult to connect with people on levels that are as deep as the ones that we're uncovering in ourselves. 

But -- as we were having this conversation -- we had this beautiful realization of how many people in our lives DO connect with us on these levels, and DO accept us throughout our changes and journeys. We also fully realized that this group of people included each other. 

It was such a simple, yet exquisite realization to have. 

Romance

Through all of the differing colored hues and configured lenses in which every person views life, everyone has a varying idea of romance. 

There is the quintessential definition of romance that we all, of course, know: 

          *a feeling of excitement and mystery associated with love. 

I define myself as a hopeless romantic; this used to manifest itself as never-ending day dreaming of me finding the ever-so-longed-for "one." I craved to have some sort of external assurance from the world that I would never end up alone -- never end up as the crazy cat lady who knits and watches Golden Girls more than she actually leaves her front porch. I grasped onto this idea for so long, until -- after a long string of life events -- I realized that this idea of love, romance, and LIFE did not hold water for me anymore. This idea of life and living was too narrow, too rigid, too suffocating for me. 

I have now rediscovered and embraced a definition of romance that latches onto my heart and continuously pulls me, and sometimes drags me, to new and uncharted adventures, people, and experiences: 

          *a quality or feeling of mystery, excitement, and remoteness from everyday life. synonyms include: exoticism and mystique. 

I don't want to hold onto the idea of finding "the one." I don't want my over-arching hope in life to be to find "THE ONE." I want my interactions and hopes to be wired with the passion of falling in love with as many people, places, experiences, and things as possible. I never want my love and openness for anything in this world to be muted or diluted by the comfort of finding, or having, that ONE person to extend all (or the majority) of my love and heart to. 

Of course, people can embody both definitions of romance, but I think our society force-feeds women this idea that happiness lies in an engagement ring, a white dress, and a huge party that follows; that you aren't fulfilled until you prove to the world that you are officially marriage material. I am not putting down marriage, but I am putting down the glorified pursuance of it; the idea that it HAS to happen. 

While living in Bologna, I realized that the TITLE OF SOUL-MATES is not limited to the ones your marry, or nearly marry. Your soul-mates can be friends and cities and things you haven't even experienced yet; places you haven't been. 

You can fall madly in love with winding cobbled streets lined with cafes. 

You can fall madly in love with your first friend you met at college. 

You can fall madly in love with the stranger who shares their umbrella with you, for just 5 minutes. 

You can fall madly in love with the sound of the ocean, the way the sun warms your face, and the way the cold, cold winter chaps and burns the backs of your hands. 

You can fall madly in love with the pursuance of adventure and new experiences; those rushes of adrenaline and fear. 

You can give your heart to so many things, and leave pieces of your heart in so many places -- if you choose to. There is less security in this, but to me, there is such a greater return. I don't want to live my life with the intention of reserving my heart for just ONE. 

I want to share it, diversify it, and open it to the world and all that it has to offer.