At the beginning of this trip, I wrote down a list of everything I was nervous about– a typical journal activity of mine, a title of “what I’m nervous about” was always followed by a potpourri of anxieties.
This list, on June 10th began:
- My debit card running out of money
- Biking on highways
- Food/fueling properly
- Maintaining fitness
- Homesickness
- Not sleeping in my bed
- Few showers
Now, you’re probably laughing at these, and yes, I know that in the grand scheme of things, my fears seem menial. You’re probably right. While we progressed across Montana, some numbers on the list dissipated, while new numbers emerged, being:
- Mold in my water bottles
- Saddle sores
- Asking valuable questions
Okay, so, the mold… is still present– BUT I haven’t gotten sick thus far, so I think everything is just dandy. The saddle sores… an issue under renovation.
The one thought that persisted was about my interactions with our guest speakers. I’ve realized in my day to day life as well as WRFI life, I tend to refrain from asking questions or making points in fear they weren’t “valuable” enough. I’ve never enjoyed feeling small for not knowing or grasping something in full detail. I mean, does anyone? Anyways, this withholding results in a deplorable yet expected turn of events for me– not having my thoughts heard, and more importantly, not connecting with people.
I always tell myself that no one will automatically know what you’re thinking or feeling without your saying anything, but it’s still hard to express these complexities to the world. I think I’m afraid of being watched, like when I’m solving a math problem in front of my TA. They know every correct step, while I’m waiting to hiccup and get critiqued.
There’s another side to this: wanting to be watched. I think of this more as being seen. Feeling seen comes from a sort of gratuitous, unbidden place. It’s not a request, otherwise it’s simply “sympathy baiting” as one of our instructors, Syd, puts it.
What I’m learning now is that I’m allowed to feel like I’m asking “invaluable questions.” I will say, it’s not the easiest thing to do, but it’s a necessary moment to seize in order to connect and feel seen.
The guest speakers we’ve met throughout the trip have been nothing short of incredible, so maybe it’s my thinking highly of them that makes the idea of inputting so treacherous.
But, some of the most rewarding connections and moments have come from people without that grand title. Biking through these small Montanan towns and interacting with locals at grocery stores and gas stations, getting advice from other bike tourers, and strangers showing up at our campsite (okay this one was a little spooky but now we know it’s possible to bike 100 miles per day with the goal of seeing The Grateful Dead).
In Ryegate I talked to Audrey, a neighbor of our hosts, Rock and Laura. He told me about his career and biking experiences in Holland then the transition to moving to Montana. A friendly conversation like this is what makes asking “invaluable” questions far easier, because there is no expectation to impress them with scientific jargon, it’s just a matter of getting to know who someone is, what is important to them.
I’ve realized that these interactions are in textbook, weighted with less importance than the ones with our professionals. Even when they have an immense collection of stories, knowledge, and advice that comes from a unique perspective and they adore sharing.
I recognized myself in them. I recognized that even though they weren’t “key” figures to our course, they still had things to say that made me think, look for and appreciate things they pointed out, and connect my current understandings to ones I never would’ve thought about.
It’s people like The Grateful Dead guy and Audrey that make this experience so real, that make the places we visit have a true connection between the land and the people. I’ve learned from these experiences that every person is just a person who has a story to tell, a point to make, a piece of advice to give. Like any person, they want to feel seen– and they do so by sharing.
It’s scary to take a step into vulnerability and be seen, but these interactions taught me that asking “invaluable” questions doesn’t exist. What comes out of questions is connection. I’m excited to be vulnerable for the rest of our journey to Glacier, connecting with people and places along the way. As for my list, it will continue, although now I know that one of my numbers on it isn’t something to be nervous about.