EnemyGate

Last Friday afternoon, I loaded up my cross-country and downhill skis, a pile of bedding and cozy clothes, and headed off to my first-ever non-work-related retreat. It was held at Chico Hot Springs, a place so beloved by our family that we used to drive all the way from SF to get there. Now it's only a hour away.

Cold, blustery, and not nearly as snowy as I'd like, or it should be.

 Excited and a bit nervous because I had really no idea what I was getting into, I headed over the Bozeman pass and down into the Paradise Valley with good tea in my cup, Neko Case playing on my stereo, and these delicious fleece sock-slippers from Mimi warming my chilly feet.

When Chris and I first started dating, he made me this little box with 'a space for thought' stamped into the metal. Through the years of young mothering, working, and all that accompanies both, I scrambled - and longed - for any space for thought. Just recently, I've begun to have longer stretches of time to contemplate and think, and I savor them. The weekend promised to be my longest stretch yet.

This isn't my box, but it's a close relative.

I settled in our cabin at Chico, and the retreat began with the most reassuringly delicious and thoughtful homemade buffet — sprouted bean salad, giant pots of Thai curry soup, and food for every diet particularity. It's funny how food can instantly make you feel at home.

About an hour into the retreat, I received an alarming message from my long-time boss and friend. Since the New Year, we've been under tremendous pressure at work. The conservative Harper government of Canada has been issuing threatening statements calling us names — eco sabateurs, radicals, etc — and alluding to potential legal changes that might make it much harder, (impossible?) for non-profits like us to exist in Canada. Spooky and serious stuff. We're in their sights because we're fighting the development of Canada's toxic Tar Sands. (Oddly unknown fact: Canada is the #1 source of foreign oil for the U.S.)

Todd was calling to let me know that my employee, our Canadian communications staffer, had apparently decided to go out on his own to the press and reveal private information about alleged even more direct threats to ForestEthics by the government, allegations that we were called an 'enemy of the state'.

If what Todd was saying was true, we were in for the ride of our lives. But I'd worked with this particular guy for years and just couldn't believe that he'd do such a thing, putting ForestEthics and potentially many other organizations at extreme risk. Many phones calls and emails later, I put the issue to bed, figuring that I'd have more information in the morning.

By Saturday afternoon, I'd received no response from my colleague and the realization settled in: he'd really done it. What ensued was an excrutiating period of waiting to find out exactly what 'it' was, and attempting to plan for how to handle it. Given this guy's acumen with the press and his dedication to his work, I had no doubt that whatever he was doing, he'd do it big, meaning with major press outlets, and well.

The sense that my work life hung in the balance put the kaibash on being entirely present at this heart-opening and inspiring retreat, but I did my best. Being distracted is a virtual impossibility when submerged in Yellowstone's Boiling River and listening for the sound of calling wolves.

I'll spare you the details that filled the rest of my days - and more than a few of my midnights - last week. By Thursday afternoon, ForestEthics had successfully navigated 'EnemyGate,' (a moniker offered up on twitter by Margaret Atwood,) and the ensuing media storm with aplomb. (Where is the manual for 'your employee releases private emails, transcripts of voicemails, and documented notes from conversations, breaching all confidentiality for a higher calling?) We're still intact - arguably stronger than ever actually - and government documents released late last week through a Freedom of Information request confirm that we are on a Canadian government list of 'adversaries.'

After sleeping for 15 hours on Thursday,  I'm returning to normal life. My house looks like a bomb went off in it. Which, I suppose, it did.