Governor's Institute on the Arts, 2012.

This blog post is a processing blog post, it's not meant to entertain, or really give insight into what life at GIA is like. That's something I work on describing to people every day.  ("NO DISCLAIMERS." comes a shout from the crowd.)


A week ago I parted ways with the students, faculty, and staff of the Governor's Institute on the Arts.
As many of us find, there is a certain amount of culture shock and readjustment that you have to face when being catapulted back into..."real life." From finding myself surrounded by a group of people and not having at least one of them humming the Mango song at all times, to rooms with blank walls not covered in maps, figure drawings, carvings, sculptures, paintings, floor plans, prints, and silhouettes.
I am twenty years old, but after leaving GIA I find myself sitting and just plain pouting. Feeling sorry for myself and my days in Burlington that are not spent with 140 people singing in the morning, classes in all of the arts, workshops in napping, spitting like a Blue Man, and beat-boxing, and evening performances and presentations by people who are way cooler than I will likely ever be. Does this seem fair?


So I pout for a while.
But then I remember that I am not five years old, but twenty and I not only have coping mechanisms for when I'm feeling sorry for myself, but I have ways of steering my brain in a more constructive direction.


I consider what I've learned.
What I can take away.
Who I can share it with.
And how I can share it.


These are questions that I know all of the students, RAs, faculty, RADmin, and folks who just bop around at Castleton with us ask themselves throughout the year that they are away from GIA.
I'm finding that the answers aren't straight forward. And the questions are sort of intimidating.
But I like to pick up seemingly small answers for these considerations because they seem more manageable. And maybe once enough manageable answers have piled up, I will have a better-shorter answer.
Verandah, a poet, musician, mother, teacher (among many, many other things,) likes lists- and as I've often found in blog posts, lists help my brain to be less of an electrically-charged-mush-ball.


What have I learned?
I learned to juggle. Sort of.
I learned the proper ratio of coffee/sugar/milk/ice for iced coffee.
I learned about the strength of listening vs. talking.
I learned that "All ideas are valuable, but no ideas are sacred."
I learned that the power of an idea is so strong, that though that idea might be discarded immediately, it will already have sparked a thousand other ideas.
I learned about being scared, (this is something I seem to learn a lot about from a lot of different things.)
I learned what it's like to support someone, and let yourself be supported,
and how to say "I love you" in Japanese,
and feeling humble,
and giving hugs,
and hand squeezes,
and jazz standards,
and how to play a high G on trombone,
and differences,
and yelling, laughing, crying, singing, whispering, and
holding in yelling, laughing, and crying.
I learned about showing not telling.
I learned about asking.


What can I take away?
I take away inspiration.
And this inspiration fills me so full that it lasts me for the year until I run out after the second week of June.
Inspiration evolves into energy, excitement, desire, passion, and ability.


Who can I share it with/How?
The hardest consideration because there are exactly one zillion ways in which I could adjust my "real life" to be more like my "GIA life." And of course, there's nothing "unreal" about GIA life-and so from my work with younger people, my age people, and older people-to filling the walls of my bedroom-to the eye contact I make-to the risks that I take (woah, almost became a Sting song.)-and the community I will always try to build and be a part of: I share GIA.


Thank you, you all know who you are.