While they spoke, I studied the motivational posters on the walls. Some were conventional—a kitten hung from a tree limb by its claws with big bubble letters encouraging us to HANG IN THERE! Others had been made specifically for and by Wisewood staff or guests. One illustrated a complicated Maslowesque pyramid with MAXIMIZED SELF printed in big letters at the top. Another listed the three principles of Wisewood:
want to live a life in which I am free.
As long as I fear, I cannot be free.
must eliminate any obstacles that impede my path to freedom.
Georgina’s turn. Tall and lean, she resembled a runway model, dressed in leather pants and a white tee. “I’m Georgina.” She smoothed stick-straight hair with a hand full of chunky gold rings. “I live in New York and keep having panic attacks. I brushed them away for a while, but the last one was bad.” She closed her eyes. “I need to make some lifestyle changes. I don’t know how to do that on my own, so here I am.” She opened her eyes and shrugged. The group welcomed her.
The small woman sitting between Georgina and me picked at nails already bitten to the quick. “I’m April.” She blushed. “I’m from Boston. I have the same issue as Georgina.” She kept her gaze on the floor. “I only had one panic attack, but it scared me into action.” We greeted April, and then everyone turned to me.
I ran a hand through my own long blond hair. “I’m Kit. Most recently, I lived in Brooklyn. My last job was as a receptionist at an accounting firm. I guess my issue is”—I searched for the right words—“I’m not sure what my purpose is.” I fidgeted with the rubber band. “In the past, I’ve relied on people like my sister or partners to solve my problems. After I dropped out of college, I followed my boyfriend on tour, expecting he’d magically make me happy. You can imagine how that worked out.” I forced a chuckle. “By coming here I’m trying to take control of my life.”
April and Georgina flashed me sympathetic glances. After yesterday’s boat ride, we’d settled into our rooms and eaten dinner together. I liked Georgina’s dry wit and April’s warmth. I could see the three of us becoming friends.
Across the circle, Ruth spoke up. “You’re all so brave for sharing your stories. Thank you.” She crossed her ankles, rested her hands in her lap, and twiddled her thumbs. “As I said at the beginning of class, I’m Ruth. I joined Wisewood six years ago because, well, frankly, my life fell apart. My husband of thirty years found out I was having an affair.” I did a double take, couldn’t believe that of all people this sweet woman had strayed. The others appeared as shocked as I was.
“I’ll spare you the gory details, but everyone in my life cut me off.” She reached for something at her collarbone, but there was no jewelry there. “My sons, neighbors, friends. My brother too. Even the man I loved.” She sniffed. “We were a close-knit community, religious. And since I was a homemaker, you know, I had nowhere to turn. From the time I was twenty years old, I’d given my husband and sons everything.”
She stroked her throat. “It was an awful three months. I stopped eating and lost a bunch of weight. Eventually I couldn’t take the dirty looks, so I quit going out in public.”
The trailer was silent—I couldn’t even hear the others breathing.
She moved on to fiddling with a button of her cardigan, then stopped herself, returned her hands to her lap. “I decided it was high time I got out of Utah. I’d always wanted to visit Maine. The ocean views, the lighthouses, the lobster shacks—it was all so different from what I knew.”
Her posture softened. “I wasn’t sure whether this was God’s plan for me, but I moved to Rockland anyway. I’d been living there a month when I met Gordon at a farmers’ market in town. Back then Wisewood wasn’t listed on travel whatchamacallits but he told me all about it, this new community he was helping build.” She smiled. “It sounded perfect. I canceled my rental and signed up.”
Her eyes gleamed. “When I got here, I met Teacher. She listened and listened”—she smirked—“then listened some more. I poured out everything I was afraid of: that the boys would never forgive me, that the best days of my life were behind me, that I was as rotten as everyone said. She dried my tears and came up with a plan. Teacher said I have so much to offer.” I peeked at April and Georgina to see if Ruth’s use of “Teacher” weirded them out, but they were both hanging on her every word. “She said I could help ease others’ suffering, that of course my best days weren’t behind me. She promised I’d find a new family here.” Ruth studied us. I wondered what she saw in each pair of eyes.
“She was right. After six months, Wisewood felt more like home than Utah.” She leaned back in her chair. “My fellow students love me unconditionally, and I love them too—a couple as if they were my own children. I see now that I didn’t deserve to have my life ruined. I’m not afraid anymore. Of anything.” She jutted out her chin.
April gave Ruth hearty applause. The rest of us joined in. We had all glossed over our issues, presenting them tidily so as not to come off as too broken. Ruth, on the other hand, had confided her darkest secrets to a roomful of strangers with her head held high. She wasn’t perfect, but she was brave.
Ruth inclined her head. “You’ll all get here, trust me. It helps when you have to air your dirty laundry in front of a new class every couple weeks.” We laughed. “Now that we know a little about each other, I’d like to tell you more about Wisewood.” She stood, smoothing the wrinkles in her capris. “So, what is Wisewood? Why are we here?” She steepled her fingers. “Our mission is to help our students eliminate their fears.” She was speaking slowly now, giving every word equal weight. “By eliminating fears, we believe you can become a more fulfilled and joyful version of yourself. We call this state the Maximized Self.”
She pursed her lips. “We’ll spend the first week of class identifying what your Maximized Self looks like. The answer will differ for each of you, but we’ll work together to figure out what those answers are. Before we get to work, I need to walk you through Wisewood’s rules.”
April was leaning so far forward I thought she might fall out of her chair. Georgina sat back with her arms and legs crossed, ankle resting on knee.
“Since we’re all about inward focus at Wisewood, we like to eliminate potential distractions. Rather than think of our rules as restrictions, we consider them freedoms. Instead of saying No drinking or smoking, for example, we say we’re a campus free of drugs. When you’re free of drugs, you can focus on the work that will help you reach your Maximized Self. Some of our guests are recovering addicts, so we have a zero-tolerance policy with this rule.” The woman next to Ruth nodded seriously.
“We’re also free of electronics and media. I think the reason is pretty self-explanatory. Once guests understand the benefits, most are happy to turn off their phones for six months.”
“Amen,” said April.