I got so sucked into - and swept up in - mountain life in Breck this summer that I found it very jarring and strange somehow to come back to Wisconsin.
I don't know what it is. Perhaps the perfectly manicured gardens and hanging baskets I got so used to in that affluent ski resort area made the weeds and overgrown gardens in my own yard seem that much more glaring. Or the two-story condo we had to ourselves, complete with balconies off of every room overlooking spacious mountain views, making our tiny 3 bedroom ranch seem rabbit-holish by comparison.
And then there's the humidity. Which I mind far less than I know some people do. What can I say. It does good things for my hair and skin. But it can, in large quantities, make one feel sticky and nasty. There's nothing worse than bumping into a wall on your way down the hall and sticking to it.
But I think the weirdness really comes from having had such a fantastic, restorative and rejuvenating time, and worrying that all the amazing things I got from the change of perspective are somehow attached to the location and will leave me as soon as I move away from them geographically. Having typed that out, it sounds ridiculous, I know. But truly, there's something so powerful about uprooting yourself from your regular habitat and routines and plunking yourself down in an entirely different location for an extended period of time.
Again, perspective.
As I continue to settle in and realize that of course all of the internal change and growth that I experienced this summer is still with me despite the geography of things, I am relaxing a bit. I am still in possession of this very new, fledgling awareness of how my body reacts to certain foods and how clean and wonderful it can feel when I minimize those foods. I still love my new horn and am amazed at how long it took me to come around to the brass horn side of things. (Of course, it didn't help that the first two brass horns I tried weren't good matches for me, but you know.)
Despite the stress of childcare, I had a fantastic summer. This festival is challenging for me, and it was nice to be stretched, to force myself to grow and expand and open up to possibilities I may not have seen if I had just stayed home.
But that's just me. And perhaps it was just this summer. But I do know that I definitely plan to go back to the mountains next summer.
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I call it "post-vacation depression." I've called it that for years. Even though technically it was a working vacation for you, it was still a vacation. And when you have a great vacation, whether it's because where you were was fantastic, or if it was just because you were somewhere fun with the right people, there will ALWAYS be post-vacation depression. I have the same problem at the end of a good show - "post show depression"! It will eventually fade!
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