Statement of Intent
I
am writing this from a dusty converted garage in Thoreau, New Mexico, a town of
1,000 that has been home to the organization I work for since 1936. I’m
wrapping up my second year as a Summer Program Director- a coveted career path
that beautifully weaves my decades of experience in outdoor education with my
passion for inspiring independence in individuals within community. I am
grateful that my months of efforts in staff hiring, program design and training
have culminated in a successful summer- so that I can take a break from our end
of season evaluations to write this essay. However, amongst the collective
pride of accomplishment there is an undertone of frustration- of expectations
not well-communicated, and information not shared, that I feel impassioned to
improve by next summer.
When
I reflect on the opportunities that brought me to this seat in the southwest, I
think of the loves I’ve lost—three engagements over ten years, learning and
growing through heartache, addition and grief; and the lives I’ve lived-
teaching in New York, Texas, and California. I reflect on the jobs I’ve had- as
a magician’s assistant, a mime, a mad scientist, and a caretaker. I identify in
this moment as the people I’ve loved, the places I’ve been, and the positions I
have held.
However,
when I looked through my digital files in preparation for this application, I
saw a forgotten side of myself. I found photo evidence of a gift I made for a
co-worker: a corded-yucca-fiber bracelet that was dyed with prickly pear fruit
and beaded with bird bones carved by stone. I found many works in progress and
a few final pieces- homages to a few hours of focus in between moving, living,
loving and learning. I was reminded of a core in myself who is creative and
curious and often struggles to find opportunity to shine. I am often inspired
to take on creative endeavors- a company, a website, a curriculum— that serve
to explain ideas to people, but I have frustratingly lacked the tools and
direction to see these visions through.
I have never felt confident to call myself an artist, an
athlete, or an entrepreneur, despite my endeavors in those areas. However, I’ll
happily identify as a life-long learner, using a career in informal education
to unravel science systems as a way to understand the delicious details of
daily life. I spent most of my twenties traveling, exploring, and adventuring
in the outdoors. In the last few years, however, I have shifted my curiosity to
myself. Through recent job transitions, relocating, and navigating new
relationships, I have done a deep dive into my own brain—learning how I can
more accurately express my ideas, how to focus on the tasks I’m excited about, and
perhaps most importantly, what practices and people don’t serve my
goals. After decades of practicing the multiple ways of teaching, I am finally
understanding my own way of learning. I found Temple Grandin’s recent book Visual
Thinking, which helped me recognize the strengths and challenges of the
images in my mind- and more importantly, the opportunities of before me if I
can successfully translate these ideas into the world.
When
looking through my digital archive— years of projects spanning from sewing to
drawing; a one-act play, a colorful quilted skirt, an unfinished image of moon
cycles—I see a threatening thread weaving through my years of attempts at
artistic expression. I see a world of words, a soul singing, but muted. My
visual artistic endeavors are often finished with a frustration that the final
product does not compare to what I imagined. I have been successful in my
career because of the way my brain organizes images, yet I have been stunted
because I lack the tools and training to express those to others. This program
seems uniquely designed to aid me with the tools necessary to take my career,
my life and my relationships to the next level.
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