I grew up in high-octane New Jersey, and then lived for a while in hard-working Ohio and Michigan. After those formative environments, Girdwood feels alien–and often frustrating.
In Girdwood, almost everything is firmly up in the air. Plan to meet someone, and he may show up. Or not. Someone agrees to get something done, and it may happen. Or not.
A friend and I talked about this way of living as a side effect of hyper-individualism. People don’t mean to be rude. They are simply following their own path, skiing their own way down the mountain.
There are team players in Girdwood, people who meet deadlines and get things done. But even they have a element of que sera sera to their style.
Coming to terms with this way of living feels like a spiritual practice. Let down? Let go. Fists clenched in frustration? Uncurl your fingers. Breathe. Trying to force something to happen? Learn to influence flow by leaping into the water. Glide through the river with an otter’s grace and joy.