Ambivalence

am⋅biv⋅a⋅lence  /æmˈbɪvələns/
–noun
1. uncertainty or fluctuation, esp. when caused by inability to make a choice or by a simultaneous desire to say or do two opposite or conflicting things.
2. Psychology. the coexistence within an individual of positive and negative feelings toward the same person, object, or action, simultaneously drawing him or her in opposite directions.

I had a rare discovery moment about a month ago. Maybe this has happened to you before. I was sitting in a lifeshifting workshop and the trainer kept using the term "ambivalent feelings". Now I love this word, have used it on numerous occasions, but realized as I applied the context clues to the aforementioned word, that I had a very wrong definition floating around in my head. I think the first time I remember hearing that word (sometime in 8th or 9th grade), I registered it in my cerebral dictionary, per context clues, as synonym for "indifferent". Now the new computation via the new context clues led me to "conflicting views or feelings." Finding myself in my own state of ambivalence, I had to go look it up just to verify my new aha. Right-o. How did I go all this time with that misunderstanding firmly rooted in my noggin? The mind is a mysterious maze.

So, this is not just a confessional moment about a linguistic blunder, but also a chance to tell you that I find myself in a place of ambivalence. Thirty days until I depart Missoula, Montana. Thirty days until I start winding my way back home. I came up here with a very full carload of stuff and find myself now with two and a half carloads. Not surprising, except for the fact that I just threw away a bunch of stuff and had a huge yard sale. I am going to be repacking boxes in the next thirty days and obviously throwing out more or breaking down and shipping some boxes back home ahead of me. How do I feel about that? Ambivalent.

We just hired my new replacement at work. We had five candidates. My boss and I conducted the interviews. How did we find ourselves the next day? Ambivalent.

The Montana Spring I prayed for is very much in bloom. The grass on the ground, running up the sides of the gentle mountains is metamorphosing from dead winter brown to St. Patrick green. The birds have found their steady twitter, and the other buzzes that promise a return to life are thickening the air. Ducks and geese are frequenting the local watering holes, and heavenly baby blue has dethroned grim gray. Thirty more days to watch the season come full term. Ambivalence once again. I find myself housesitting on the golf course. The home I visited in June of 2007, the place where I found my next assignment and kindred spirits to create church in a way that we had always envisioned. Now, I sit on the balcony, the temperature wheel reading 64 degrees, awaiting a sunset as I face an unobstructed west. Thirty more days to bask in the beauty of big sky country. Thirty more sunsets from this vantage point. A melancholy ambivalence washes over me, my cells soaking in the plethora of blue as it shifts and fades.
This morning I ventured out to one of my favorite gatherings: Living Art of Montana. They have Saturday morning workshops. An old flyer said that today was a writing workshop, my favorite. When I got there I found out that my flyer information had been changed. Today it was "Flower Fairies." I have enjoyed everything that I have ever done at the workshops, but I had my heart set on writing. I talked myself from a place of grumpy ambivalence to a place of surrender. I decided to join the frolicking of the other fairy makers. My fairy is somewhat of a showgirl, bedazzled in iris purple, gladiola yellow and an unidentifed orange. Her hair is two Rapunzel-length red and purple braids. Her wings are lavender and royal purple and her heart-shaped mouth is scarlet. Most people decided to make their fairies garden inhabitants. Having no garden at present, mine is living on the dashboard of my car. She finds herself ambivalent to the extremities of the dashboard offerings. A true winged diva. So, that is what my days look like, with thirty more in this place. Ambivalent I find myself, too conflicted to be indifferent.