A Stopover, and Some Reflection

I’ll be heading up to New York this weekend to check out apartments for next year. I’m in denial about leaving Adamah, even for a few days. I predict culture shock, hesitation about eating foods bought from the grocery store instead of grown from our very own farm, arriving in territory that used to be familiar, but now just may seem foreign, in transitioning from rural to city life.

And I’m experiencing anxiety about searching for an apartment- wishing that Adamah, despite the setbacks, could last longer than the 2 ½ months it’s planned for. I don’t want to look for an apartment, for roommates, to either return to the community in Washington Heights, or join a new community in Brooklyn. Adamah is my safe space- where I work hard during the day on the field or participate in agricultural classes, and socialize with Adamahniks in the evenings, squeezing in a visit with the goats when I have time. Heading up Beebe Hill during my 30-minute jog; spending Shabbos afternoon chilling by the home of a staff member; catching up with friends in the Beit Adamah meditation room- it’s only so long before this will all be a piece of history.

The meditation room at Beit Adamah- my favorite room;
the place I saw as holiest and made it my own commitment to
keep clean and tidy, retaining its holy space.

As an introvert, a lot of deep emotions are going on- emotions that don’t necessarily get shown. But even though my comfort zone generally features a one or two-person conversation, I’ve been breaking out of my shell over the last few days, whether through a game of volleyball, harvesting tomatoes, or mopping the floors- my chore for the week. Admittedly, the cans of beer I used to turn down and now accept as my taste buds get used to the blandness, enables me to open up, allowing others to see the Shira who is comfortable speaking to more than one person at a given moment, who has a sense of humor, who talks about mundane topics without the feeling of fakeness and trying hard to impress. But, beer aside, this seems to be a new stage in these relationships- the one that surpasses the same “Where are you from, what do you do?” questions. It’s this major step that makes leaving at this moment such a struggle- when I recognize that I’m beginning to trust, to show a side of myself that was shut out for the first few weeks I was here.

It will be a short trip- I’ll see my mom, my brother and his family, perhaps some friends while I’m back home- or what is seemingly home- and then I’ll be back. But this trip is a preview of coming back for real come September. When I return in the fall, I’ll be jumping into my new job as an assistant preschool teacher on the Upper West Side, settling into my new apartment, wherever that ends up being, and continuing my life as a career-oriented young adult aspiring to become a teacher for young children. “Live in the moment,” people always say. Okay, I think as I take a deep breath- experience Adamah, put in everything I’ve got while I’m here; focus on finding a place to live while home, and when I get back, be in Adamah, so when it’s over I can really say I got as much out of it as I could; recognize how much I’ve learned and grown from this program; and know that I’ll be back to the Isabella Freedman in the future.