who do you say I am

Who do you say I am
I am a hero
who barely has it together

I push hard and climb mountains
and struggle on the big words.
I walk the dark of night,
but without another,
the lonely defeat the night.


As of yet, Montana has been an ego booster. Teaching PE is like constantly working out, every monday and wednesday running at least four miles, and every evening basketball practice. The weekends are full of great hikes or hanging out with the kids. Climbed a mountian, walked through a river, took an hour drive just to see the land out here. Everything I am trying I am doing well at, except those things I told myself to work on when I came out here. I was not good at scrable till I got out here. To one person I am opening doors, to another they have closed them before me, and I dont even know if my students care. I am here, doing my best, wanting to do more, but settling for getting in great shape, constantly being tested in gym, wondering how this fits into the big plan, and worrying about making the wrong descision...

I miss school, my friends, and the life of books
I love the moutnains, new friends, and working 11 to 14 hours a day...

Stuck in the Woods

One night around 8:30 Charlie and I went down by the river behind our house. We skipped rocks for a while and decided to follow the river upstream to see where it led. Following the river was so beautiful because the sun was setting and we could see it going down behind the mountains, so we kind of lost track of time and it started to get dark. Instead of turning around and going back, we thought that if we followed a fence through the woods it would lead to the road. Well, it did lead to the road but first it led to a swamp and someone's backyard. So by the time we got to this swamp the sun was down and it was pretty dark. We knew that if we didn't cross the swamp and run across some random person's property, we would have to find our way though the woods in the dark. Charlie started to cross the swamp on some muck that was at the bank of the swamp and was pretty far when I started across the muck. I heard Charlie say, "Alright, we're going back through the woods." and I looked up and saw him knee deep in muck. He pulled his legs out and walked over to help me because by that time I had sunk ankle deep. I was holding on to him when I pulled my foot out of the muck without my shoe and had to stand on the muck with my bare foot while I pulled my shoe out. At this point I am extremely unhappy with Charlie because it was his idea to follow the fence to the road, then to top it off he says, "Katie, we are going to have to run through the woods before it gets so dark that we can't see." Now my shoes were filled with muck and impossable to run in so I took them off and began to run after Charlie through the woods. If running through the woods doesn't sound that bad to you remember that we are running through a dark woods in Montana where there are Grizzly Bears. So while I am running, I can't help but think about how much a grizzly would like to eat me for dinner and I start to panic. I started to breath heavy and talk really fast and Charlie turned around and said, "Katie don't panic on me or we will never make it home." So I calmed down and we eventually found the river and followed it back to our house with our dog Jack keeping all the animals away.

Picked up by Jesus
So, if almost getting lost in the woods was not enough of an adventure for one year, this weekend Charlie, Beth (the eighth grade teacher), and I decided we wanted to climb Divide Mountain, one of the mountains in the park. Well, we weren't exactly sure where the road was that led to the trail up the mountain so we took a guess and turned onto a "road" at the bottom the mountain. Well the road was actually a logging road and after driving around the woods for over an hour, we came to a drop off and had to back up in order to back to the main road. When we were backing up we hear a loud pop (or two) and we got out of the car to see what had happened. We looked at the tires and we had not one, but two flats. We got our stuff out of the car and began to walk the three miles back to the main road. When we got there we planned to hitch hike to St. Mary's, a town about 15 miles away. After we had walked for about a half an hour we saw a blue pick-up truck and Charlie ran to see if they would give us a ride. We joked that it was probably an ax murderer in the woods burying his latest kill, but it turned out to be an old man cutting firewood. We asked if we could get a ride and he said it was out of his way but that he would take us anyway. We climbed into the back of the pick-up that was filled with logs. There was also a chainsaw in the back so apparently he was a chainsaw murderer. While we were hanging on for dear life as the old man drove the whindy roads in the mountains, Charlie asked him his name and the man said, "You can call me Jesus."

So there you have it, the two most exciting adventures of our time so far. We are going to try to climb Divide and Christina is going to try it with us. Hopefully this time we will make it...

Katie (for Charlie and Christina)















For more photos of our adventures check out...http://www.flickr.com/photos/19123995@N00/ 

A New Home

Week one is done here in Browning, Montana. It has been a very active week with long bike rides through winding dirt roads next to rivers, hikes in Glacier National Park, around the parish land of 1000 acres, and on the buffalo jumps and canyon. With beautiful lakes and rivers, nights in the tipi's, lots of great pictures (some were put on my flicker site), nights with the bonfire, talks with friends and family, star and moon gazing, sunsets behind the mountains, and beginnings of new books. Also finding new friends in my fellow LV's, getting to know the Brothers better, and meeting Jeb and Charlene and the kids (Kaia 5 and Tate 3), as well as the other DLSB staff. We have began preparing the school and classrooms and this week started teacher/staff meetings. As I said, busy! But great as I now feel quite at home; comfortable, happy, challenged, motivated, and inspired. I can take a break by looking to the postcard mountains, take a hike down to the river in our back yard (which lies past a golden barley field), talk to one of the girls or Brothers, or just chill in the silent solitude which the great open skies of Montana brings.

I noticed the silence especially tonight during a call with a friend. On this call I heard a siren in the background. I realized I had not heard a car go by for the last 2 hours, nor heard a plane, or shout. I may have heard one cow moo or a dog bark, as Jack and Gunner continually challenge each other for dominance.

Mike has finally returned from building his home which he has been working on from dusk to dawn all summer. The retired philosophy professor struck up conversation right away about fly fishing in the park, wondering about my summer at the worker, and talking about his home. It will be sad when he leaves at the end of September, I will miss the conversation and insight he brings, having grown up here, finding the wisdom of an aged thinker, and being a bridge between the Blackfeet and Westerners world.

There are many new experiences to my life. I find it incredibly interesting to try and track how my thinking is changing as I work on the skills that are needed in a teacher of adolescents. As I try to model a character that is both respected and at the same time becomes one of your best friends, so that I may be a teacher, yet inspire the hearts and minds of the kids as they come to mature in the knowledge of themselves and their world. All this through the guise of a PE teacher.

I am a volunteer now. I have given up my will to one that is greater than my own, I am trusting this mission, the need of these students, and the ability of those around me, as I find the collective will of this community, and discern the will of God, in these new days.

Next week shall be the real test...

June 30th

June 30^th

I am trying to understand why John and Donna make me so uncomfortable. If it is something within them, or if it is I who makes them uncomfortable, which makes me uncomfortable to be around them. For instance, tonight I went to grab a book of the shelf and sat on the other side of a bench from Donna, it was as if she could not share it with me. Both have made outrageous claims (as in their dealings with big foot and Donna's being older than God) that I think it is just their idiocy which makes me uncomfortable. I would call it a mental illness as there are obvious societal frictions which result. For some reason I associate John with some kind of fear. He is something that I do not want around, but feel like I can not shake, that he will be there, somehow and in one for or another, for all of my life, within me in some way. He is sin maybe? I do not know for sure why they crawl up my skin. I should. They are not my enemy, albeit they are my neighbor. Another facet of this frustration may come from Johns calling me Chuck, which I very much dislike. I suppose I will have to remind him that my name is “Charles.”

A plague and some thoughts

If the Plague were to be a metaphor stressing the modern minds reaction to the struggles of life, it would symbolize mans innate numbness of ego, sensual nature, and confusion of hope. However, within another light, the Plague is mans action in an extraordinary time. It is a line of reasoning and emotion created for the discovery of life in often inexperienced worlds. And finally, as Camus stimulating our sense of drama, existential loneliness and doubt? I doubt we shall know his intentions, lest there be a journal of personal reflection. But, I seek the portrait that Camus paints of our people in order to understand his vision of man. Is it that man is an ugly and wasteful creature, is there a dignity found within each persons mere existence, must one create this dignity within the actions of their time? Or is Camus showing the resilience of man in the face of death knocking, to meaningful reflections persons otherwise lost to life. And finally, beyond Camus, what is the Truth? How is one to learn and live, by the incorporation of paths between darkness and light? Why is it that man holds so many perspectives, literally limitless within his sensual and imaginable limits, and to what end shall he aim his future? While traveling, it is said the shortest distance is a straight line, but is life's meaning contained within the start and finish lines, or is it found in the accidents of the trail. In a homily I heard at st Marys Parish today the priest said that our work is in the sidetracks, it is in the mishaps and accidents. In a view of the overall picture of life, I seek solitary pleasure such as reading and writing, communal delights such as conversation, sharing of drink and eat, and interaction with the other. Shall I speak as a Christian with the language of brother and neighbor, shall I speak as an existentialist and explore choice, death, and meaning? Of what shall i fear, of whom shall I love. I ask as if there is I know of no right way.

July First

I would think that it would be amazing to have the discipline of habit to chronicle the events of my life. To reach beyond the melodramatic forgetfulness of my day into the reflection of a good journal. Shall I escape the laziness and extend my talents and capacities into the communication of my life to a broader spectrum of minds than my own? Shall I look back upon myself for clues into future dellemas? I say yes I shall, but so have I in the past many times. What shall launch me into this discipline?

The Cost of War

Look into these eyes

that look out on violence

look at my heart

and see the death of war

I am miles away from the pain

As I watch my entrails drain

onto the marble floor of a palace

where dreams once danced

I once had the head of a hero

so far gone now, as I reflect Nero

My rage as gentle as moonlight

my dreams filled with it throught the night

I have killed my brother and sister,

my daughter, my dog, and myself

In the name of God.

When will this end.

I seek peace

And know it is away

from this fighting

I seek rest and know that my sins will forever keep me awake

My sin is that I go along with life, that the trigger is pulled and my freedom annulled.

There is a women, Jennifer, at the Corcran house who wants to join the military. She has four kids that I know of. One is just a year old, another, around four, is the most beautiful girl who loves cuddling during reading. How can this women want to leave this world of love? How can she feel she is protecting something from miles away while killing another. And in turn killing herself. As she shoots down another mother, or father, in the same situation. As she puts her life on the line, a line that is now all too often crossed.

Peace in Synthesis

Life is a rubix cube. Make sure that in putting your life together that you remain patient when it appears you must start over again. Sometimes life figures you out rather than you it. Either way the puzzle is solved and things are clear cut for a while.

I unfold my arms and lower my hands so that my wrists are lyeing facing upwards on top of my knees which are butterfiled in the indian sitting style. I relax my hands so that my fingers and thumb are loose, yet they cup as if I am holding something. I find a controlled breathing and quiet my mind so that it is empty of thought save conscious awarness so that I am purly receptive. This purity is very difficult to achieve if you have a mind that has a mind of its own. You must discipline your mind and body, which is to come to control it. This discipline is not a forcful will. But it is the resolve of which one finds in understanding ones relation to the world - what is and is not within ones power. It is the miricle of mindfullness which is acheived through a constant reflection. Your choice in action must not be a reaction. You must choose freely. In working for pleasure you participate in reaction. In working for minfulness you participate in love for those around you who make you be that which you are. The man on the street makes me sympathetic, the women in the car makes me angry, the child in the tree makes me smile. This is the opertunity for me to choose and become myself. I choose to respond. I smile at the bumb, I give the bird to the women, and I wave to the boy. I am mindful only of myself in these actions, responding only to my own desires which are naturally inclined. The man on the street gives me the bird, the women in the car begins to cry, and the child in the tree never sees me. Next time I must become mindful of the world other than my own. I must love and not want.

If I can love my enemy

to love that which can be found in every breath, every shade of color, every gentle smile, every freckle that grows from the sun, felt in every hug, if i can find that at all time...then I will know what it is to be happy.

If I can love my enemy.

All I can ask is that you find me when you once again think you have found youself....

I found this while looking over old documents...its from earlier this year and I dont really remember writing it. I can tell it is mine though...or someone plauged with the troubles of my mind...its time to start to raelly take advantage of this blog...here goes...

All I can ask is that you find me when you once again think you have found yourself. But classroom time will not cut it...I’m at Saint Mary's to learn from certain people...I could learn the material anywhere...but I am here for a reason.

I too am lost...fallowing the perversity of what I see as the paths of freedom and what I see as right rather than happiness and the chosen path of God. I have found myself in a cave of madness blocked by a mudslide of emotion and poetry. Lost in a void and looking for a companion to search beyond this endless emptiness.

Knowing the meaninglessness of this rant as the difference of plane between you and myself is lost in dimensions beyond my experience.

Why do you think I want to talk to you? I am not looking to be given anything. I am looking for someone that sees what I do...and you, my friend, can help me. I am not looking for helpful readings or useful ideas. Those will come in time...I have knowledge and patience to let those things come when I am ready for.I seriously am having troubles figuring out to do with my life...I am in this void just like Buddy, my brother, and countless other friends. I thought I had something...I just don’t know anymore.

I admire Aristotle for his categories...not his friendship. A friend can never be looked at as an object.
To my knowledge you are busy, hurting, alone, and lost. So take your time. I want you to be healthy.

In Mississippi 

today

today i found Sartre and Dostoevsky in the library. So I begin my escape from the underground with an apprehension of nausea. It shall all work out...but only at the end of the road...i am on an existential bout. Obviously i am spinnig webs of poetry. But such must be done before I bend a knee and swear decree. For i am shedding my skin and becoming me.

i dont expect anyone to understand such rambaling, but an awearness into my free conscious flow will be helpful if you are to grasp my personal cognition. some of my journals will sound this way, others just concentrate on the moments of my day.

you could get tired of both,
but this is my own personal growth.
So go away and return,
take the time as you need,
but look in now and then
to what my wounds mend
and my journey bend
look into what i pretend
and what i defend
see into my mind
and come to know yourself in my kind


Think me not mad nor sad or glad. Think of me as traveling...and join me when you wish.

such lightness as air

Instant eternity
Grasped in Certainty
through the movment of mutiny
on a minds profound scrutiny

such lightness as air
finds its place where you stare
one hardly feels there
in the depths of dispair

and yearning for meaning
we pay attention to the stinging
you build up some smiles
and the feeling lasts for a while

but again you begin
as you die in the end
when you hit the bottom
you begin to suspend

so open your mind
to the deaf, dumb, and blind
and you shall find
the secret behind

let go and begin
from that senseless within
continue my friend
and so choose your own end

and in this earnest awakening
discard that forsaking thing
and listen to the angels sing
as you slip on that dreadful ring

hide in plain sight
keep your thoughts on hold tight
a mind on the bright
and your eyes out on the night

Opening the door

Tear, The
by George Gordon, Lord Byron

When Friendship or Love
Our sympathies move;
When Truth, in a glance, should appear,
The lips may beguile,
With a dimple or smile,
But the test of affection's a Tear:

Too oft is a smile
But the hypocrite's wile,
To mask detestation, or fear;
Give me the soft sigh,
Whilst the soultelling eye
Is dimm'd, for a time, with a Tear:

Mild Charity's glow,
To us mortals below,
Shows the soul from barbarity clear;
Compassion will melt,
Where this virtue is felt,
And its dew is diffused in a Tear:

The man, doom'd to sail
With the blast of the gale,
Through billows Atlantic to steer,
As he bends o'er the wave
Which may soon be his grave,
The green sparkles bright with a Tear;

The Soldier braves death
For a fanciful wreath
In Glory's romantic career;
But he raises the foe
When in battle laid low,
And bathes every wound with a Tear.

If, with high-bounding pride,
He return to his bride!
Renouncing the gore-crimson'd spear;
All his toils are repaid
When, embracing the maid,
From her eyelid he kisses the Tear.

Sweet scene of my youth!
Seat of Friendship and Truth,
Where Love chas'd each fast-fleeting year
Loth to leave thee, I mourn'd,
For a last look I turn'd,
But thy spire was scarce seen through a Tear:

Though my vows I can pour,
To my Mary no more,
My Mary, to Love once so dear,
In the shade of her bow'r,
I remember the hour,
She rewarded those vows with a Tear.

By another possest,
May she live ever blest!
Her name still my heart must revere:
With a sigh I resign,
What I once thought was mine,
And forgive her deceit with a Tear.

Ye friends of my heart,
Ere from you I depart,
This hope to my breast is most near:
If again we shall meet,
In this rural retreat,
May we meet, as we part, with a Tear.

When my soul wings her flight
To the regions of night,
And my corse shall recline on its bier;
As ye pass by the tomb,
Where my ashes consume,
Oh! moisten their dust with a Tear.