On quiet transitions (or the end of second year)

I’ve spent the past few days with family in New Hampshire and the previous week trying to settle back down and into the Coopersburg, PA home after the explosive bit of violence the prior weekend. I’ve been trying to relax and unwind to reset after that experience. To the point that I delayed coming up to NH because I didn’t want to rush out of PA; I wanted something resembling resolution before leaving our third roommate alone there over the long Memorial Day Weekend.

Now that I am here, I wish that I had returned home earlier. Coopersburg reminds me so much of Lee, NH. Maybe that’s why I like our new place so much. My father has spent the last thirty years of his life pouring effort, sweat, and blood into this land. The trees are cared for, the garden beds are wildly productive, and there’s a lovely peace when you step outside to hear the birds calling and the frogs chirping.

There’s a lesson in here, somewhere.

I know, going into third year, that the clinic will reveal my lack of knowledge, my lack of stamina, and my lack of training. After servings of humble pie like that, I will need to replenish the well. I will meet people and learn stories that will affect me, will haunt me, and will inspire me.

I’ve learned some strategies that have brought me here, to this point. I don’t know if they will get me to where I want to be. My personal float tent will likely remain packed up, as our new home has no place for it. So, I’ll probably float after clinic, at a business nearby. And I’ll roll through some academies, as the physical practice of Jiu-Jitsu clears my mind and reminds me what true survival feels like.

I wonder if excursions to my New Hampshire home will be a new addition to the tool belt. The feral nature of our Coopersburg backyard is, by itself, incredibly therapeutic to my nervous system. Will that be enough? I’m not sure.

Maybe it will be worth the six hour journey north to return to my childhood home every few weeks, to fill the well back up with memories and slow mornings.

Maybe not. A few experiments are in order.

I’m incredibly grateful for this time between Step and Third Year. The transition will leave my head spinning, no matter what. I am profoundly content with the way life has unfolded before me the last few weeks. I feel ready for the challenges ahead. Now, I need to enjoy the last wisps of second-year-dom before I return to Pennsylvania and begin Intro to Clerkships on Tuesday.


Long Form Sundays

On Death Podcast

4 thoughts on “On quiet transitions (or the end of second year)

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s