Neptune Love Affairs

2010 - 2011 Grace appreciated getting out of Twin Falls, the little city where she was born and raised. It was home to 70,000 people, surrounded by agricultural fields, open sunny skies, and a few dusty hills to the south. This area was nicknamed “The Magic Valley” due to the Snake River’s ability to provide fresh water to the arid desert, transforming it into lush cultivated land before slithering on towards the Pacific Ocean. The captivating view often stole her attention from conversations with Matt, who’d swing through and pick her up from the comfortable Barnes and Noble cafe. Together they’d drive north, crossing the beautifully crafted steel bridge—secured by steep lava rock walls, where sagebrush and waterfalls sprinkled about. Over four hundred feet below and to the west lay a manicured golf course while upstream displayed the majestic Shoshone Falls—the “Niagara of the West.” It was a sight to see after a winter’s snow melt. She admired the change in scenery as the flat desert morphed into a narrow valley, squeezed within the mountains where sagebrush and dry grasses turned to pine trees and white aspens. The ride was always enjoyable, ending in eagerness to get working as they approached Ketchum & Sun Valley. There, she’d hop out and guide Matt on where to park, then heave the resistant latch on the horse trailer as she had hundreds of times before—freeing the doors, like opening curtains to her stage, rubbing her hands together, ready to unload boxes of produce and display supplies. They’d set up a pop-up tent and tables, neatly arrange organic veggies that would—by the season’s end—expand out and beyond their tables and double tents. She cherished beautifying the farm’s booth by adding colorful price signs for each product while keeping herself on schedule, even when friendly vendors interrupted with welcome waves and cheerful conversations. Once the market began, off came her shoes as her bare feet grounded to the earth, and she proudly prepared herself for her audience—ready to interact with like-minded individuals and provide for them an honest product. Their busy lines and gracious shoppers made time fly. The social interactions were the best part of her day: exchanging healthy recipes, sharing cooking tricks and gardening tips with others gave her purpose and a sense of pride. They were more like confidantes than customers, which was great since Sun Valley was previously an intimidating place. While growing up, she knew it was famous for attracting many wealthy and elite families: A-list actors, Olympic gold medalists—it was even the last home of Ernest Hemingway. But working at the farmer’s markets changed her opinion of the place and people. She vibes with down-to-earth, health-conscious consumers who shared an appreciation for and knowledge of local food and healthy living. Her second season on the farm was now in full swing. Last year, she donated her time on the farm since she’d wanted an opportunity to learn the ropes of a sustainable farming operation. What inspired her to seek out this experience was her upcoming two-year Peace Corps assignment in the Caribbean where she’d be helping farmers increase their sales. Her goal before leaving was to practice assisting a local grower to market their products more efficiently. Fortunately, within a short time, she was introduced to Matt Haze, who provided her with a perfect situation, giving her hands-on learning experiences, freedom to run with her ideas, and the skills she needed to prepare for the two-year stint abroad. Haze, a laid-back, Hawaiian shirt kind of guy in his late 60s, was perfectly content being a family man and providing local, sustainable food. He’d offer food to anyone, if necessary—no questions, even when he was a man of modest means. Grace admired him for his giving heart and strived to be that way as well, regardless of her lot in life. These character attributes made it easy and rewarding to do what she could to increase his sales. After a full year helping Matt, her Peace Corps plans fell through but were quickly replaced with a trip to Tanzania at the end of the market season. She was determined to satisfy her appetite for giving back. This deep desire to assist in Africa began in her early teens and only grew stronger over time. This year, she was gonna do it! She had planned to donate her farm hours for a second season. However, Matt insisted on paying her for all her hard work. He also hung a flyer in their booth, informing customers about her upcoming journey and announced all winter squash sales would go towards Grace’s excursion. Curious customers wanted to know all about her service trip and helped pay for her flight into Tanzania. She set aside the extra cash for a donation to the orphanage once she got there. She’d have plenty of time to find a good purpose for it during her three-month stay, starting five days before Halloween and ending two weeks after New Year’s—the perfect time to escape Idaho’s winter and head to the equator. When the last day of the market came around, she said goodbye to all her pals who’d wished her luck on her travels. Her friends and family threw a going-away party at her most beloved restaurant, Local Sprouts in Twin Falls. It was owned by a couple who served produce from their geothermal greenhouse gardens. They supported other local farmers and ranchers by using their ingredients in their cooking and selling it in their storefront. Every guest sent her off with notes of positive encouragement on her journey, their messages would come in handy when she got homesick or when she needed a friendly reminder of home. * * * After a day or two of jet lag, Grace woke midday from the sound of repeating footsteps, circling the volunteer house. She was slightly dazed and dizzy, so she looked out the window to check it out, maybe get some fresh air? A tropical Arusha scene surprised her with a beautiful mountain staring back at her. The house was empty, so she went outside to ground herself. Right outside the front door was a tall, skinny Maasai guard. “Hi!” she said, holding her hand out to shake his. “Habari,” he said, lightly touching her hand, as though he wasn’t sure he was supposed to. She pointed to the mountain and asked, “Kilimanjaro?” “Meru,” he said, politely then pointed east. “Kilimanjaro.” “Oh,” she said, able to now assess her location, remembering seeing it on a map of Tanzania. Just then a vehicle came through the security gate and a voluptuous woman climbed out. “Grace, how are you?” she asked with a heavy accent. “Good, after some rest. Thank you!” “Good. I’m Elsa. I manage the volunteers. You are the first in the new house.” She raised both her hands to show it off. “Karibu—welcome. There’s another house full of others in town. Don’t worry, another volunteer will be coming in a few days and Monday will be your placement initiation. Pick any room you want. The house will be full by Christmas, and we are building a few rooms in the back for the boys. Your dinner will be ready at 5. Just don’t go through the gate. Stay within the security walls!” She dropped some things inside and immediately came back out and said, “Bye, bye” and left. Grace used her free days to make herself at home. She journaled, did yoga, walked around the dirt yard, and played solitaire until her first companion showed up. Sun was from Japan and would be there for two weeks. They had the same placement, but she only knew Japanese, so they played card games and giggled for a day or two before traveling to the orphanage, aptly named Glorious. The orphanage was a small elementary school with two open buildings next to Alice’s house—the woman who’d started it a few years back. In the beginning, she’d used her home to teach kids who had deceased or struggling single parents, and she provided basic school supplies, occasionally clothed them, and would send them home with full bellies. Her future goal was to build residential housing at the school for students in need. Grace admired the families and the community who welcomed these children into their lives, giving them more of a sense of home and family. A month into her stay, she unexpectedly became the headteacher in the “baby class.” Swahili was their native language but Alice wanted them to learn English, so Grace taught the four-to-six-year-old basic English and math. She was nervous at first but found it invigorating once she had the hang of it, grateful for the opportunity. After school on Thanksgiving, she took the extra donation money from the market and bought enough food for four Glorious families to eat for a month. She went with another volunteer and Alice to a tiny shop where they bought rice, beans, cooking oil, cornflour, and a bar of soap for washing. Not realizing until after buying everything that they would have to carry it on foot to each home. All three women held two heavy, stuffed garbage bags, trekking down dry dirt roads in the heat as they wove their way through cinder block, stick, and mud huts for miles. They passed piles of burning trash that drew bugs, street dogs, and chickens to their scraps. Alice carried most of the load with two bags in each hand and one perfectly balanced on top of her head, propelling herself with flimsy orange flip-flops. She was wrapped in bright African fabric. Grace was impressed with her skills and would never forget the image of her carrying her load under the hot African sun. On their next excursion, Grace and another Glorious volunteer, Kate, had planned and organized a field trip for all 40-50 students to go to the Snake Park on her birthday, two days before Christmas. Before leaving, they handed out new school uniforms, socks, and shoes that she and other volunteers raised money for. Kate had two skirts made that matched the girls’ uniforms, one for Grace and one for Alice, who shared the same birthday. Although Alice was younger than her, she seemed older and more mature, having taken on so much responsibility in comparison to herself. That impacted her in a way she didn’t fully understand, but she admired Alice for all she’d done and continued to do. After all the students were dressed in their new clothes, everyone posed for photos before loading up two dola dola vans to the Snake Park. There were no seat belt rules, just pack everyone in. The day was full of fun and abundance, then they headed back to Glorious just before the sun went down. The day couldn’t have been more incredible. All the work fundraising, planning and organizing was well worth it. She had a fantastic 26th birthday, and the best part was passing out new uniforms and celebrating with Alice. After their Christmas and New Year’s break, they made visits to every child’s home on foot with Alice and Kate. It took two days. She met the guardians that cared for each child and a photo was taken of them for the website, newly created to raise money for the orphanage. It was also a great way to provide the opportunity for sponsoring a child. She would never forget the last visit, where they entered an empty stick and mud hut. It was similar in size to a walk-in closet, squeezed within a crowded neighborhood. They gathered inside, standing near a hot simmering pot on the ground, while Alice explained Wazeri’s living situation with his grandmother and nine cousins. Grace immediately glanced at the worn-out bed they must’ve shared since there was nowhere else to sleep but the ground, which continued in from outside. She imagined the rains bringing in a muddy mess and possibly roaming animals. Then her eyes went to the overflowing dresser and back to the thin sheet, dangling from the doorway they’d just walked through. She wondered if it helped keep trouble out—it certainly didn’t stop them from walking in while no one was home. The situation was humbling, considering how locals had limited opportunities for home and car loans, credit cards, or even clean drinking water, let alone a toilet and shower. She’d never seen a fridge anywhere, even in the volunteer house. There she stood, covered in soot, grateful for the day’s trek, for the insight into each child’s life, and a deeper appreciation for what she had back home. Thankfully, they took public transportation—a dola dola ride back to Glorious, where she invited each teacher to pick out clothes from a pile she’d brought in that morning. It was thrilling to see their excitement, like they were on a shopping spree! A celebratory way of ending her time there. Then, a round of goodbye hugs began. Grace cried tears of joy, sad to leave the experience and beautiful people behind. The moment was so powerful; it was hard and tender, yet emotionally expansive. Her intention on visiting Africa was to “give” and explore another part of the world. She’d fulfilled those desires, but in the end, she received more than she’d anticipated. Her heart opened wide to these people, to a simpler way of life, and she was completely enveloped by love. The sensation was better than gold—like nothing she’d experienced. Her spirit expanded from her heart, out into reality—creating a highly sensitive moment. She was proud of getting herself there, grateful to all who supported her in doing so, for being strong while traveling alone, and for reaching out to another part of the world, to show “I love and care about you.” After flying back to the states, she was overwhelmed with emptiness, even though she was ready to be home. At first, she thought she was dealing with reverse culture shock, coming back to the reality of her life, unable to cope with change. That was part of it, but she wanted her focus to be on service back home. * * * Grace and Matt were all set up and ready for their first day of market. She was overjoyed with all the customers and market vendors who were curious about her trip. They were proud of her and happy to see her and welcomed her back like she knew they would. The people and spirit of the event energized her with comforting summertime vibes she needed to heal despite her hint of loss at the surface. She tried to push it aside and carry on, but it continued to linger. Her emotional equilibrium was slow to find balance, and she wasn’t sure what direction to take, even though the market grounded her. She noticed the way she related to others and her environment had changed, but what hadn’t changed was the ability to brighten someone’s day with a positive compliment, being kind or receiving a smile—that’s what she’d focus on for now. Her friend Cray interrupted her focus, saying, “The display is beautiful,” as he walked past the side of the table, to stand next to her. Cray was a close friend of eight years who came down from northern Idaho for a camping trip. A few days prior, she’d accepted his invitation to join him and would meet up after market, on his way to Stanley. “Hey, thanks,” she smiled with a giddy shrug. “Did you just get into town?” “I went on a hike nearby and found some camping grub for our dinner tonight,” he said, holding up the bag of food. “Can we add your veggies to our market meal?” “Yes, please. Pick out whatever you’d like and I’ll put it all in a cooler until we leave.” “Perfect. What time can I help you guys pack up?” he asked. “That’s nice of you! Market ends…”—she glanced at their clock—“in 15 minutes,” she said, ringing up another customer while he filled the bag. “...Can I get started on something now?” he asked, handing her the bag of food. Haze hurried over to him, “Here, I’ll help you while Grace rings up customers,” he said, apparently appreciating the extra hand and a possible early departure. When they were done, Matt closed up the trailer and said, “Have a great time camping you two,” then hugged Grace. “Be safe,” he said, patting her back. “We will. Drive safe,” she said, walking away with Cray. “Matt seems like a good guy,” Cray said after he’d already pulled away. “He is. He’s like a father figure, or maybe a young grandpa, to me and his family is very supportive. I’m lucky to have such a home-like work environment.” “I’d say!” he said, as they got into his car and drove to Stanley while they caught up. He asked all about her Africa trip before they found the perfect hilltop to sleep out under the stars, looking over the extraordinary Sawtooth mountains, beautifully capped with pristine glaciers. Cray pulled out his bouldering crash pad and put it amongst the sagebrush, ants, and mosquitoes to serve as a bed and a seat near the fire. They cooked a hearty steak and veggie meal in a cast-iron skillet over the flames, giving their food a hint of smoke and dirt. Flavors that spoke to their primal taste buds. “So, Grace. I enjoyed hearing all about your adventure, but I picked up on some sorrow… Why the weight on your shoulders?” he asked, softly investigating as he tended to the fire. “Am I that obvious?” She asked, swirling a bite of steak in the juices on her plate. “Yeah,” he admitted. “Where do I start?” she asked. “How about with the emotions that are still raw… Come on...” He nudged his shoulder into hers. She took a deep breath and said, “It’s hard to describe what I went through emotionally, other than it was amazing and wonderful.” She paused to chew another bite and finished it before continuing. “It felt like my heart opened to a vulnerable space and when I left, it seemed I left something there too. I can’t go backward. I know I’m meant to be here…” Her voice cracked not knowing if she was making sense and looked bashfully at her plate. “I just want to experience that same fulfillment here. I want to make an impact, but what do you do for others when they have everything in comparison to those in a third world country? Lives here seem—more opportunistic, smooth, and convenient. Providing a month’s supply of corn flour to a family wouldn’t be that helpful to most people here and I can’t afford to give much more than that. I know no matter where you are, everyone’s striving to be and do better in life and there’s always a way to help out. But how? What can I do that will matter? How do I give something of value that’s appreciated, something I find value in giving, and how to do it sustainably?” Grace nervously continued talking as if she’d make sense of her emotions, but it didn’t fully satisfy her. He nodded in understanding. “I’d keep doing what you’re doing. Keep searching for ways to serve that feed you. See where you are guided and needed.” “Yeah,” she said, drawing in the dirt with a stick. A tad impatient with her own process. “When I get all bottled up in an emotion or can’t express it, I let it out somehow.” He looked at her for a quiet moment, wondering how to help her through this. “Try yelling your emotions out to nature.” “Yelling them?” she asked shyly, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Right now?” “Yeah!” He scooted closer, putting a supportive arm around her, quietly faking a yell while extending his free arm then he looked back at her. “Like that.” She snickered, thinking, Why not? And she opened up—yelled, wailed, diving into her emotions. “aaaAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHhhh!” She pushed out all the confusing disconnected emotions until she was completely out of breath, and at that exact moment, a big elk called back to her. They quickly turned south to watch as tears streamed down her face in relief and to nature’s response. “Whoa, you summoned your spirit animal,” Cray said, full of enthusiasm. “The elk heard your call and responded to your soul, Grace!” They sat astonished, and she chuckled through her tears, watching the striking animal eat from a tree and wander off into the woods. She adored the elk for hearing her inner call and for his response, but the idea that she was the elk didn’t resonate with her. It seemed it was her soulmate’s spirit animal. One day they’d hear her call and respond, just like that.