Love is a Diversified Portfolio
on separation and dedication
Yesterday was the first day of Not Back to School Camp in Oregon.
This is a camp I know very well. I’ve worked there most summers since 2006. I know what’s on today’s schedule and how the day will flow. I’m friends with most of the staff and many of the campers. It’s a community I love, and one that loves me back.
Yet I am not there. I am 9000 kilometers away from these people. Why?
At 6am, I wake to the bumping and swaying of my overnight train from Innsbruck, Austria, to Hamburg, Germany. From the tiny window of my sleeper compartment, I spy grassy fields, orderly rows of crops, and ancient towns with cathedral spires.
Were I not in Europe, I would probably be at Not Back to School Camp. At this very moment I would be tip-toeing out of a staff dormitory, saying hello to Maya and her mountain of potatoes in the kitchen, and preparing a French press for myself, Grace, and other early-bird staffers who congregate at the picnic table. In the misty damp morning we would read books, peck at laptops, take notes for workshops, gossip about campers, and spiral off into philosophical discussions. Grace would be in her bathrobe, the rest of us in sweaters. As the first rays of sun crest over the pine trees, the breakfast bell would ring, bringing a flood of campers and the infectious social energy that would carry us to nightfall and beyond.
Instead, I’m sitting outside a coffeeshop in Hamburg, watching passing cyclists, dogs, parents, friends, siblings, old people, and babies in strollers. Later I will board another train that shuttles me and my bike north to Denmark to visit an old friend (from Not Back to School Camp, as it happens). The following week, I will circle back to the Netherlands and Belgium via bike and train, where I will continue running the standard Blake algorithm of dancing, reading, writing, seeing old friends, making new friends, and pursuing novelty, romance, and adventure.
I am not in Oregon, surrounded by those I love, because no matter how much loyalty I feel toward any single person, place, cause, or community—it has never been enough to win me over completely.
Not Back to School Camp is one of my longest-running commitments precisely because it demands only 2-3 weeks of my year. Precisely because it gives me such spacious freedom. I love it because it does not possess me. I love it because I can leave it, and in our separation, our fondness grows.
Whatever “polyamory” means, I suspect I embody it. Because what I feel for Not Back to School Camp, I also feel for other camp, college, and partner dance friends. Geographically, I am in long-term open relationships with Argentina, New Zealand, South Lake Tahoe, the Sierra Nevada, and Western Europe. I’m even in love with some people I’ve never met: writers, speakers, and artists who have quietly shaped my life.
To step away from one of these loves is not abandonment. Rather, it is a statement of faith: I contain multitudes, as do you. We will see each other again.
For some, love is a singular dedication. For me, love is a diversified portfolio.
Blake, this piece inspired me to finally reach out with a comment after being an informal follower of your work for the past 5-10 years. The theme resonates so deeply with me. I bought a few copies of your book Do What You Love or Die Trying this past year to give to my older kids who are coming of age. Turns out I needed your writing just as much as they did, cause reading that little volume was pivotal for my growth arc while healing from a complicated divorce. Thank you for sharing your heart and vision with the world. I’m here for it. 🤍
This is such a beautiful piece of writing. I know Heidi will miss you because we talked about you not being there yesterday when I put her on the plane to Oregon, but..... you are so correct in saying "in our separation, our fondness grows". I truly hope that your current travels through Germany are fulfilling and inspiring and that you continue to create unforgettable memories.