The Responsibillity of Choice

8/27/09
I am falling behind. I’ve been staying at work later this week and have not been sweeping every day. The dead moths are piling up in mounds in my cabina. I threw away two in my bathroom and am ignoring the two that are staring at me, face up, on the dining room floor right now. I did not know that carcass removal would be such a constant in my life here.

I went running today with the high school English/history teacher and a student who is a senior. I went further (farther?) than I’ve gone before – from the school to the Reserve and back. I feel awesome. The English/history teacher is a gentle encourager, which makes it very easy for me to feel safe around him, which is nice. I am finding it hard to be myself here. Maybe I should give myself a break, and some time, but I’m having trouble letting my guard down. I am conflicted, and filled with doubt, and don’t want that to show. I am not ready to share.

Yesterday a part of me leaked out. I got my first piece of mail here in Costa Rica – a package! What a wonderful surprise! I could not help but shine and giggle and dance around in my new down vest. I could not help but encourage people to touch me…er, the vest. Two of my students snuggled their faces into it. I felt like I was walking on a cloud.

But usually I just sit and listen. I let other people do the talking, the deciding. Tonight after my run I sat and listened to a discussion about theft, which is rampant here in Monteverde. I listened to three people talk about getting robbed, two of them over and over again. I listened to them talk about putting bars on windows and doors and buying safes and master keys that were also stolen. I think about my living situation: on top of an almost-always-home landlord with a dog that barks at people he doesn’t know. I decided to find good hiding places for my stuff anyway.

I’ve been thinking a lot about some words spoken by a woman in Wednesday Meeting this week. - education brings the privilege of choice, and how lucky we are to have both. But with privilege, comes responsibility. In Meeting she asks for the wisdom to know how to choose responsibly. As she spoke, she struggled to control her voice, and fought back tears. Her words stick with me because this is what I think about every time I sit in silence, though I am not brave enough to share it. It struck me how alike we are but never know it until we share our experiences. I wonder: how does one gain wisdom? Experience, they say. Experience. Is getting robbed experience? Is moving to Costa Rica?

The sunset tonight looked like a piece from Alex Katz’s Sunset series.

And then later tonight:
I go into the bathroom tonight to pee and brush my teeth. I glance down at my toothbrush nestled next to the toothpaste on the back of the sink, and there he is. Yes, I am assigning gender with no basis and it shows my bias and I don’t care. It’s the spider that lives in my sink. I’m trying really hard to be down with the fact that a big red-brown spider lives inside of my sink. This is especially difficult when he’s out for a stroll along the edges of the sink and I’m using the toilet and our faces are four inches apart. So far, I’m doing a good job. A sharp intake of breath is all – no cursing, yelling, crying or running out of the bathroom with my pants around my ankles. I am determined to peacefully co-exist. Well, just plain co-exist is ok too.

But tonight, tonight he went too far. He’s testing me, pushing the limits. When I enter the bathroom he is on the back of the sink, camped out next to my toothbrush, with one leg resting gently on the head of the toothbrush. Maybe even touching some bristles. That cocky, arrogant, smug s.o.b. He knows I’m not going to kill him and is antagonizing me. I swear he has one eyebrow up, asking me, “What are you gonna do, huh?” He is like Nemo in Finding Nemo when he puts his defiant fin on the bottom of the motorboat.

I wonder if he’s contaminated my toothbrush. Do I have to boil it now? Throw it out? I don’t have a spare. Are spiders dirty?, I ask myself. Are bathroom spiders dirty? An image flashes through my head of hundreds of small tan-yellow spiders scurrying all over a rotting human carcass. I decide that it’s ok to go to bed tonight without brushing my teeth. I turn around, turn off the light and go to bed.