I THINK MY CLIENTS ARE ALL GOING TO FIRE ME
Cabin transformation. Headboard made by yours truly.
The wide planked pinot noir stained floorboard moved. It’s not supposed to move, but there it was moving. A shiny black snake slithered up and welcomed me to Surry, Maine. I attempted to not lose my shit as I prepared for my first coaching call in my new temporary home. And now I had “distracted snake wrangler” added to the laundry list of reasons why I think my clients are all going to fire me. At this moment, I’m flabbergasted that someone would pay me for how my mind works when my sanity could use some conscious confrontation.
I recently landed on the property of the Surry Arts Barn , which once housed the Surry Opera Company ( I highly suggest watching the video link) manifested by Master Zen teacher and Julliard Graduate Walter Norwick. The opera company consisted of all walks of life including local doctors, loggers and veterinarians who were sent to the Soviet Union, Georgia and Japan yearly to perform. During the mid eighties, the performance barn was part of a larger unruly farm that provided food and a commune like environment for Buddhists in training under the leadership Walter. As a local celebrity with a cult like following, Walter executed his wild vision beyond anyone’s wildest dreams. You can still feel his spirit throughout the community.
The retired farm property now consists of quiet gentle breezes, and solo intimate piano recitals that take place in the converted airbnb’s. Panoramic views of Cadillac Mountain located in Acadia National Park provide a picturesque background and the barn still presents weekly concerts for the local community. Local women harvest fresh flowers weekly as well as treats for guests to enjoy during intermission.
I officially arrive to Surry on a rainy 4th of July and I am welcomed by Alan, the current owner of the Surry Arts Barn who settled here from Long Island about 40 years ago and studied under Walter. As I anticipate my work contribution here on the property, I dream of getting my hands in the soil, learning how to use an electric saw, and transforming Airbnb’s to maximize revenue potential.
Alan’s gentle demeanor and charming wit soften my fears as my eyes bulge out of their sockets when I see where I will be sleeping. I step into a simple four wall cabin, which isn’t wired for electricity but has an extension cord coming through the window. The room consists of four beds. The previous tenants were boys in their 20’s and early 30’s. Translation: Baby millennials who give 0 fucks about living conditions or snakes as roommates. There is a mini fridge, some random tables, and two chairs that look like they have a 50/50 chance of breaking if I sit in them. The upside is the gorgeous natural light that fills the space, but my imagination is having a hard time seeing its potential due to my internal terror. At the other end of the extension cord, a standing light is held together by duct tape and a table fan’s cage is tied together by Wonder Bread twist ties.
My nervous system is on fire. I feel like I have officially lost my mind. WTF have I done? So much of my identity and choices are smashing up against each other as I search for my truth and what feels safe. Alan leaves so I can settle into what will be my home for the next five weeks, but instead of settling, I hurriedly look up airbnb’s in the surrounding area. I think I have made a terrible decision.
Another workaway couple pulls up in their Audi SUV, and I immediately project my story of repulsion onto them. Believing that they are not going to stay, I think I am going to be all alone, and it’s time to eject.
I reach out to a few recovery friends and spew my venom and fear, then I go and grab my Dyson vacuum out of my car. Packing my Dyson felt ludicrous when I left my apartment in Baltimore, but now , I feel like a Goddamn genius. Maybe this is what this next chapter is about….. vacillating between feeling like an idiot and a Goddamn genius in rapid succession and then laughing about the whole damn experience.
After some time, I come back into my body and do the best I can to create a space that feels comfortable. I put my own sheets on the bed as well as my sleeping bag. I dust surfaces and rearrange furniture and surrender to the process. Thank GOD for Celexa.
As I meet the other Workaway couple, who are pros, I realize I am not alone. Human connection is exactly what I asked for during my meditations back in Baltimore. I wanted to be in close relationship to Mother Earth. I wanted to be in immediate community and to contribute regularly outside of my coaching career. I just didn’t picture it in this package. After nibbling on snacks in Alan’s cottage, we retire for the night, and I fall asleep soundly. I pray that I will have more clarity in the morning.
My bladder pressures me to wake up in the middle of the night, and I step out of the cabin in a fog. I pull on my new LL Bean boots and pop a squat behind the bunk house and look above me to see heaven. Will I ever be able to pee in a toilet again? The stars are out dancing in a wild orbit of utter brilliance. The Milky Way is stretched above me in a rainbow of dreamy star bursts. I have never seen nor felt the sky’s magic this close to my heart before.
An inner knowledge hits me like a ton of bricks. I am meant to be here because I am here. There are plenty of lessons to learn. I wasn’t prepared for how rapid and profound the upcoming lessons would be.
Stay tuned……
Edited by Patrick Shannon