Dear Reader,

Take a minute.  Stop being a reader for just a moment and lift your head.  

Take tally of what you see. 

 What is around you?  

Who is around you?

What holds movement?

   What remains still? 

What makes sound? What sounds are they making? Are the colors loud  or muted?  Are there smells running to your nose or is the air empty?  Is there a taste tickling your tongue or is that sensation currently nonexistent?

 What do you feel? 

The fabric of clothing?

Hot porcelain filled with coffee?

Soft fragmented grass blades?

 What about in your heart? 

What do you feel there? 

What emotion syncs with  the rhythm of its beat?

What thoughts follow the blood

that flows through your body?

What is all that?  

What is your space?

For the past four years, Hampshire and the surrounding area has been my space. 

My space full of 

                           The Sound

                       of academic chatter. 

Debate and laughter over

 convoluted conversation topics 

That take place 

both in and out of the classrooms 

My space full of 

                                The Sight 

               of my friends smiling faces.

and the wondrous work they have created

Paint smudges on canvas

Pages and pages of fictional worlds

Heart-wrenching theatrical and dance performances 

My space full of 

                              The Smell 

of the changing scenery,

 fragrant flowers soaking up 

the last of the summer sun in the fall semester, 

 the budding grass in the spring,

 the whip of frost in between

My space full of  

                            The Touch 

 of the air that whips past me as I dive for a frisbee, 

the touch of the earth underneath my feet as I dance in the rain atop soggy grass,

the cool sensation of the encumbrance of water during a dip in the reservoir 

My space full of 

                            The Taste 

Of a meal shared with friends 

A different flavor of conversation

 tasted between each bite

Hampshire has been my space in these physical regards but also in the mental, emotional, in spiritual ways.

When I think of the concept of Hampshire as a space that exists beyond the physical, I think of a conversation I had with my friend Nora Hammen, a fellow graduating Div III and a fantastic friend since freshman year. In her letter, she writes to her younger self that “The expectations you put on college to be your savior will just make it hurt more when it turns out to not be every single thing you expected.”  

I read the line over and over again. 

College to be your savior… 

College to be your savior…

College To be your savior… 

Savior… 

Savior… 

Savior…

When I got the chance to sit down and talk to her about her letter further, she explained what that line means to her. Hammen told me that she entered college with the expectation that it “will be perfect, I will make the friends that will last me forever, I will meet my soulmate…I will be able to pursue the things I’m most interested in. And it will be autumn all the time. I will drink hot beverages, read books, and do all the things…some of that stuff is true. I do drink hot beverages a lot. It is autumn a lot more here than it is in Seattle. I have had more intense, more complicated, better, and also worse relationships here than I’ve had in the past” yet not everything is perfect, she continues to say, “I started feeling hurt in college, relationships that I did build started disintegrating or kind of getting thrown in my face in a way that didn’t expect, when I took classes that turned out to not be ones that I would have wanted to pick and I was kind of stuck in them …the problems didn’t go away, just because my location and my school changed. it was more complicated than that. And I think I realized that for a while, logically, but emotionally and mentally it took me, and is still taking me a while to fully come to terms with that…realizing that they weren’t going to be solved by college.” 

When Hammen says this to me, I think back to the letter that I wrote and the similar message that I give to my younger self.   

In my letter, I analyzed something a younger me had written in her diary.

 On November 6th, 2017, I wrote: 

“Why look at the past when I am in the now? College is my new starting point. What happened in the past is in the past. What happens now is what will build my future, and I am trying to make it positive, not one dragged down by past baggage.” 

In my journal, I find my freshman self telling herself that college is a new start. That the past is the past, and everything that happens from this point on is who I am. I tell my younger self that we learn we are very wrong about this in my letter to her. I inform my Div I self that “Your past is not something you can easily discard. You can not just ignore it. Your past is in everything you do; that is what everything is rooted in. You cannot change unless you know and understand the before; you understand the roots.” 

It seems Hammen and I learn a very similar lesson. That the presence of college is not the factor that resolves our issues. However, unlike Hammen, I would use the language to describe Hampshire as my savior. Not because Hampshire took away all my problems but more so because Hampshire gave me space to face those problems and face them in a way that I was not only growing out of them, but I grow from them as well. 

A moment I remember that speaks volumes to this message is when I found one of the many treehouses that sit waiting for wanderers in the Hampshire woods. 

I found this place in a moment when I was feeling EXTREMELY lost (both mentally and physically…I am TERRIBLE when it comes to directions!)

 I went out to the woods because I did not know what else to do with myself. I had been in a bit of a funk the past couple of days and had awoken that morning with a very frazzled brain. I tried to get out of bed to start the day, but I could not coax myself to get up. It felt as though my body was weighed down by frustration, and I had no clue how to push the weight off me. I wanted to scream. Before any noise could escape, the realization that to do so in the middle of my dorm room may raise concern in my dorm mates hit me. So out to the woods I went.

I was just going to go for a quick walk. A quick walk out to the woods party area, throw a tantrum and head back to the dorms before anyone even noticed I was gone. I picked this spot because I thought it was far enough out that no one would hear me break down. No one would hear me scream. No one would hear fast feet beat themselves into the earth. No one would be able to hear the toddler-style tantrum I was about to pull.

 I told myself just one toddler tantrum, just one, and I would feel better. I just needed to get this pent-up energy out of my system, and all would be well. I would be free once more to continue with life. 

When I made it out to the spot, I immediately sprung into action. I stripped off my jacket, allowing the cool air to build goosebumps on my arms, mud squashed beneath my feet flinging particles out of the ground as I picked up speed. I open my mouth wide, prepared to let the screech of birds trapped inside my throat out, but the only sound that escapes is silence. This urge that had pushed me into the woods seemed to be gone. I stop in my tracks, a small slither of mud seeps into my boot. The cold sensation is what I imagine defeat to feel like. I take a breath, head back to the edge of the clearing, plop myself down and stare out into the horizon. 

I sit here motionless for many moments, staring into the dead space that laid before me. Yellow corn stocks that once reached high to the sky to collect sunlight lay short, barely reaching above the ground, brown. The treetop branches that twist towards the elements, barren. The snowmobile that waits patiently for someone to take it on one more joyride, unaware of their guts laying spilled out on the earth around them, dead. Is this the sight that was supposed to ease my frustration?

Suddenly vibration radiates out of my pocket and throws me out of this trans. I lift up my phone. It’s Turtle; I forgot I had told her I’d help her with her car, something to do with an insurance question, or was it more mechanical? I honestly do not remember.

I pick myself up, brush myself off, and start to head home. About 15 to 20 minutes of wandering later, I realize an issue. I do not know which way to head to get home. The drunken version of myself had found my way out of these woods many times; however, sober me seemed to be confusing left and right, out from in, circles from squares, wandering around and around, minutes turned into half hours, half hours turned into close to an hour. It was in this wandering that I found the treehouse. 

The treehouse is located in a tree on the edge of a field next to the field that the wood party area overlooks, on the opposite side of solar panels (again terrible with directions, this is probably the best you’re going to get from me!) Other than some shrubbery, it is not very hidden or hard to get to. However, people can very easily miss it due to materials it is built from that help it blend into its environment. The materials: scrap pieces of metal and wood that were abandoned in the woods or brought to the woods solely for the house’s purpose, it is unclear. 

Reader, If you ever find this treehouse, you would begin your journey at a small silver ladder. With the help of the shiny metallic bars and a frayed rope that dangles from one of the tree’s limbs, you can host yourself to branches easy enough to grasp on too. From here, you must use your own weight to leverage yourself up to the first platform. Stop a moment to rest on the bench that has been nailed into a gap in the branches. Enjoy the view of the landscape from this height, or rubbish through forgotten trinkets left to decay in a rusted toolbox. This is all very cool, but my favorite part is the roof. If you plant your feet on the top rim of the bench and pull yourself up on just the right branch, you can get to this magnificent place. The structure itself has nothing stunning. It is, in fact, only a roof, a flat surface to shield the one below it from the elements; however, there are two aspects that, in my eyes, make this spot grand.

1. The view.

The view is the same as it is at the level below, just a bit elevated. However, if you were to look up, you would see something completely brand new. What sits above you is not an open sky, but instead one traced by tree branches, outlined and highlighted by the shapes and curves that the branches decided to take. When it is windy, they dance. They dance hand in hand with whatever colors the sky seems to take. It is mesmerizing!

2. The mailbox.

On this roof sits a mailbox. Much like its neighbor, the toolbox below is covered in paint chips and rust that cause it to squeak when it opens and closes. This mailbox is filled with letters written by Hampshire students, past and present. The letters cover an array of topics, from love notes that have never seemed to reach lovers’ eyes, to letters that spoke to others’ journeys to this treehouse, letters to Hampshire, to Amherst, to the world. 

During my first trip, I put a letter in this box. 

To whom it may concern 

I found this place at a point when I felt very lost in life. I came out to the woods because I didn’t know what else to do with myself. I hit a point in life where I do not know what to do with myself. I’m conflicted with what I want and what I can get. I know what I want. What I want is simple, but I feel my universe is too complicated to give me simple. I have come to this conclusion before, and I have come to it again. I was not made for simple. Nothing in my life has ever been simple. Even when life was simple, it was never simple, and it will never be simple. I will always be rolling with the punches, but that does not mean life cannot be good. I am lost right now, both physically and mentally lost, but I’m going to be okay. At the very least, I am always okay. Things in life can change me, things in life can hurt me, but until I take my last breath, nothing in this world will ever destroy me. I am going to go now before I do one more thing. Wherever you are lost, you’ll always find yourself again. You may just not be the same as when you lost yourself; this isn’t always a bad thing.

you are loved,

Molly M. Mclaughlin 

After I write this letter, I make my way down from the tree, and as my feet hit the earth, the path has been made clear to me. From this angle, I see the world anew, and I know exactly where I need to go… physically. Mentally, I am still lost, I still do not know where I am going or how to get there, but I now have confidence that I can find myself once more.

Through the act of getting lost, of finding this place, of writing this letter, I think I began to heal for this. 

The letters reveal that Hampshire has served as a space for many, 

Hampshire has served as a….

Space to make connections with themselves and the world :

“A curved path leading from EDH to the library, near what is now the Writing Center, where after class one day I sensed a powerful connection with a friend who I knew I wanted in my life.”  –  Ellie Siegel DivIII 1978

“The donuts (3&4 I think) – that’s where Mixed Nuts was based and I was staff for 2 years (my closest Hamp friends were co-workers The store was in one of them …The delivery came in. That night we (cheese managers) organized cheese cutting in the open center space. We cranked up the music and had a blast.” –  Ellen  Sturgis 1980 

“The big rock near merrill. This is the spot I made my first/ best friend at Hampshire. Large, Cold, In a field, Sunsets, Sunrises, Catwalks, People Watching, Photoshoots, Taking off boots, Love and friendship, butterflies, good memories, bad news phone call spot”- Ashley Burns-Merrill Div 2021

“ I liked bringing people to pick flowers as an activity to do with someone. I would pick bouquets specifically for other people-there were so many options that each bouquet felt very unique and curated by me, depending on what I was going for. A lot of the bonding I did with who is now my closest friend from Hampshire was over this flower field. I brought bouquets with me when I would go visit people in Providence and New York..”  – Emma Symanski Div III 2020

“The RCC/bridge. I love the memories I have there from playing basketball to playing cards games with friends. It is impossible for me to have bad memories there. I threw a great pass to DK while playing frisbee, I lead our team to victory and that is where Willow and I first hung out alone.”- Hannah Hausen Div III 2021

Space to find their passions

“ My favorite place on campus was the Kiva because it is where I participated in my first on-campus creative writing class. Years later when I was a trustee, I visited a poetry writing class and felt like I was time traveling.” – Shelley Johnson Carey Div III 1980 

“ASH. I lived there most of my time at Hampshire because I was working so much. I had such a heavy schedule that in my third year, I would compete with other animation Div 3s over how late we would stay. We called the game “king of the lab”.  – Rachel Creemers Div III 2014

“The yurt. Throughout my years at Hampshire I have spent a significant amount of time in the Yurt, doing podcasts with friends and learning about what radio means. After bad management for the past years at the Yurt and the Yurt’s slow demise I have been granted the opportunity to rebuild the Yurt. This year I am helping managing it which means finding new DJ’s, learning all of the ins and outs of the space and what it takes to run it. As a Hampshire Students Division II I feel like working at the Yurt brings me back in time and also forward. I am able to look at the massive amount of dedication when I walk by or am in the Yurt every day and this gives me hope and desire to put the same amount of effort into my responsibilities and passions. The yurt, as radio is timeless and I believe in the timelessness of the world” – Luke Gannon Div III 2021

Space to find their voice 

“The Social Science faculty meeting room. I served as a student member and enlisted many other students to use the power we were offered there to shape our education. The faculty listened to me and let my voice influence them.  Modern armchairs and couches One wall of windows looking into the steps of Franklin Patterson Hall The faces and voices of the Social Science faculty members-” Sarah  Mount Elewononi Div III 1990 

Space to heal 

My time at Hampshire came at a critical point in my life. My parents had just split up badly….I had just moved to the states from years in India and had an overwhelming sense of being out of step.  Hampshire gave me a solid, inspiring, fun way out of tragedy.- Leslie Hiebert Div III 1978

Space to think, to find peace, to grow 

And I think that is one of the most magical things about Hampshire, one of the most magical things about going to college, one of the most magical things about growing up and moving out. You can find your own space, space to figure out the world. Figure out how you want to exist in the world, how you want to make the world work for you. Hampshire gave me and others the space to grow in the directions we needed too

Reader, is the space you are in doing the same for you? 

Sincerely 

Molly Marie