Let's talk about Taize, because such a place is worth discussing.
I wake up in the morning, in either a tent or a barrack with multiple beds (much like a hostel), and first thing, I head off to morning prayer. Prayer at Taize consists of singing a great many hymns, with the brothers that live at the community, and the rest of the current Taize congregation. We sit on the floor, and lift our voices in a variety of languages, depending on the hymn. It's one of the most serene experiences I've ever encountered, and it's really beautiful to listen to.
After prayer, we head off to breakfast. At Taize, everyone gets a job when they walk through those welcoming doors. Everyone participates in the rhythm and chores of the community, participating in creating the lifestyle in which the community lives from week to week. That being said, the job I signed up for was washing dishes for breakfast and lunch. As menial as this job sounds, washing the dishes became one of my favourite parts of the day, and definitely a task I was always looking forward to. I'll explain later. Because I was part of the dish-washing crew, I was able to be one of the first to get breakfast and lunch, which is a killer perk, let's be honest. So I leave worship, and head straight to the outdoor dining area, where I meet up with the rest of the dishwashing crew and don the oh-so-stylish plastic apron. We make sure there are enough hands to handle the load of washing that the meal will bring, and then we go through the line to secure our meal.
Taize has a vision of simplicity, among other things. While the bulk of Taize's vision I will touch on in more detail later, the aspect of simplicity hits you immediately when you partake in a meal. Coming to Taize, you can't expect to find gourmet. But Taize is a bit like camp, so even though the food isn't something normal standards would deem high quality, you're so appreciative to be eating three square meals a day that it truly does feel like you're being spoiled when they feed you. Breakfast was my favourite, especially because at the beginning of the week, breakfast and I had a love/hate relationship. Breakfast at Taize include a small baguette (roll of bread), a single serving thing of butter, and a couple sticks of chocolate, with either tea or hot chocolate to drink. What people proceed to do with this assortment of ingredients is the following: tear open bread, apply butter to the inside. Then, as if you're making a sandwich, apply chocolate between the pieces of bread, upon the butter, close pieces of bread, and eat your freshly made chocolate-butter sandwich.
I don't know about you, but this is wierd to me. Thoroughly wierd. I realize I'm in Europe and they're all about Nutella here, but Day 1, it feels too early in the day to be having chocolate. However, by Day 3 I'm hooked to the idea of having chocolate each morning, although I never converted to the "butter and chocolate sandwich" idea. But the chocolate Taize serves is beyond delicious, and I enjoyed my bread and butter with chocolate for a breakfast dessert every single morning. (That being said, the chocolate and tea ALONE is worth coming all the way to Taize. Truly, it's the best I've ever had).
Now that we're done with the meal, we get ready to start cleaning the entire community's dishes. For breakfast, this isn't so bad. Here at Taize they use bowls for the cups, and the bowl/cup for the tea or hot chocolate is the only dish utilized for breakfast. However, when lunchtime rolls around, all dishes are on deck, including trays, plates, a bowl/cup for the beverage, and a spoon as the sole utensil, utilized creatively as a spoon, a fork, and a knife. (You learn quickly when you must make use of what you have. And you're only frustrated by the solitary utensil until you consider how long it would take to clean dishes for 4000 if forks and knives were added).We get the giant vats of hot and cold water ready to receive the dirty dishes, and anywhere from 10-20 sets of hands remove jewelry and watches, and proceed to scrub down the incoming dishes. This is a monotonous task, and often perceived as menial. But when you're making new friends as you wash, and eventually start singing tunes to make the job more fun, it's not long before meeting these great people twice a day and partaking in an hour of sillyness with fellow soldiers in combat against the war of dishes becomes the favourite part of the day, and certainly a time anticipated with much joy. Truly, with the exception of one or two, I met my dearest friends from Taize while washing the dishes. I had challenging and beautiful conversations, I learned new words, and together we created memories, song lyrics, and friendships that I anticipate will last a lifetime. Speaking of which, Taize is a place that seeks to help people find the presence of God in their lives. Personally, I believe that God is available in all places, circumstances, trials, and days. Verena, one of my new friends from Bavaria, commented that in the monotony of washing dishes, a sort of meditation emerges. How beautiful a perspective, to find meditation in the midst of monotony. See what amazing and wise people I was getting to spend time with daily? I think these are the people whose company I value the most: the type of people that inspire me. Not people I always agree with, but people who inspire me and challenge me.
Between breakfast and lunch, the younger people had a bible reflection, while those of us that are older, i.e. 25 and up, had free time. I spent a great deal of this time doing one of two things: either I was in conversation and fellowship with one or more of the people I just washed the dishes with, OR I wandered down to a nearby village to spend some quiet time in prayer in their chapel. In the French countryside, Taize finds a very tranquil environment. It's impossible to hear the noise of trains and rare to hear the sounds of cars driving by, but it's common to hear the wind rustling through the grass and trees, and to hear the noises birds make as they celebrate their existence. I loved this type of silence, especially in these simple and beautiful chapels. It can be terrifying, because you can actually hear yourself think, and if you aren't ready for those thoughts, often noise is the preference. But these became some of my favourite times as well, learning not only to silence my verbal communication, but try to silence my head and my heart as well. I wonder, what does it really mean to listen? With each circumstance I admit I'm still figuring this out.
At 12:20 midday prayer happens, and again, the majority of this time is spent in song. The brothers will read some scripture, and utter some prayers, although in multiple languages, but all in all, it's a beautiful and peaceful experience, one I came to really enjoy. Then we lunch, and this repeats the breakfast process, except, as I mentioned, all dishes available are on deck, so it takes at least twice as long. But to me this only meant more laughter, songs, and times of fellowship, plus we still get to eat first. :)
After lunch, there's a longer stretch of free time, available to be filled with the "25 and up" bible reflection, in addition to some worship each evening. For a couple days I did the bible reflection, but as the week progressed I chose to spend the time in other ways, which usually consisted in conversation, fellowship, or times of prayer at my beloved chapels.
Then in the evening we had dinner, sans cleaning up dishes for Stephanie, then evening prayer, following much the same format. The prayer times usually lasted from 45 minutes to an hour, and the evening prayer could potentially go longer, but only if some people wanted to stay.
After evening prayer, there was a spot that served drinks that had a great location for people to congregate, and sometimes I'd go and join in the celebration of existence. But often prayer ended at 21:30 or 22:00 (9:30 pm or 10:00 pm), and frankly, I was tired, since we wake up at 7:45 or so to make it to morning prayer.
Besides the loose schedule, the times of peaceful prayer, and the glorious beauty of the French countryside, the appeal for me with Taize is the vision behind the community. Not only is it beautiful physically, but the beauty emanates from within. It is a community intended to welcome people from all ethnicities, backgrounds, beliefs, perspectives, histories, genders, and ages, for a week at a time, into a place where reconciliation is the aim. It it a place that aims for a Love between all people as the Lord defined it, in the unconditional sense. (The Greek word is "agape".) And so, when you arrive and live at Taize for your week or perhaps longer, you find yourself amidst a constant interaction with other cultures, languages, affiliations, and experiences. It's phenomenal. I rarely met another American while I was there, instead the people I spent most of my time with were from Hamburg, Bavaria, Slovakia, Latvia, Austria, London, France, Ireland, etc, some of which I truly hope to visit later on this summer, if possible. And as you wash dishes, engage in service of others, and share in laughter and song, you find authentic friendships developing, with no regard for whether this person's views of the world align with yours ideologically or on any other front. You find the vision of Taize coming alive in the smallest of moments, and as you put a face and friendship on the "other" you once feared or misunderstood, all you know is this: I am alive, and it is good, and you are alive, and it is good.
There once was a young woman.
Like any honest human, all this woman wanted out of life was to be loved. Not just adored, not simply cherished, but loved, seen, known, appreciated, enjoyed, and valued.
But when a person goes out into this world and begins to feel like love is out of reach, well, they'll begin to settle. And often the way one settles when in search for love is in the arms of any person that will show them even the slightest glimpse of affection.
Which is what this young woman began to do. Eventually she finds herself engaged in adultery.
But for a while this pursuit of love really worked for her, and she thought she'd really found a place where she was cherished.
Until one day she was caught. Not just caught, she was exposed, dragged into the light, and publicly humiliated.
Somehow, the public officials, government officers, and religious leaders discover her infidelity. Upon making their discovery of this woman, caught in the midst of her intimate moment, they drag her out of her privacy and into the public streets, through the dirt and the grime.
Welcome to the climax of her shame.
They pull this woman through the city, through the streets, up a hill, and into a crowd of people, all the while she is completely helpless to fight back, stop the embarrassment, or cover herself up at all.
Who's ever had the dream about being completely naked at school?
This day is worse.
But back to the woman.
She's being dragged, half-dressed, in her shame, through the dust. The leaders of the society that regularly play golf with her parents, the religious leaders that used to be her Sunday School teachers, the elders that once dealt so kindly with her as a child, that she's always looked up to and respected - they are now dragging her by the hair through town.
Eventually they slow down and let her fall. She drops to the ground, and for a moment she can't tell where she is or who else is around. All she can hear are the men who towed her halfway across town yelling, and as her eyes adjust to the light and she regains her vision, she notices their shouts are all directed at one man.
Suddenly they're lifting her up onto her feet, and the attempt she had made at covering herself with her hands becomes futile. As she squints in the morning sunlight, she's facing hundreds of men, and some women and children. The group of men that have dragged her and been yelling are there holding her up and surrounding her, and behind the man they continue to yell at is a crowd of people sitting down attentively.
This is really the last type of audience she wanted to have in her moment of ecstasy, in her quest for love and acceptance, which has now been transformed into a deep sense of disgrace.
As she looks out on her neighbors, her peers, her friends, her relatives, among others, she suddenly feels the pain that comes from being surrounded by people but completely and utterly alone.
Suddenly the yelling ceases, and her escorts are now speaking more understandably. They refer to the man they've been yelling at as "teacher," and she realizes it's a class that they've interrupted with her indiscretion.
They explain where they found her, how they found her, and she feels the knot develop in her stomach, because she knows what's coming...
...Then they explain that because of her crime (adultery), the punishment is death.
By stones.
They propose, to this teacher whose class they have just interrupted, that they put this woman up against a wall.
They propose that everyone present take a rock/stone in their hand.
And they propose that everyone present precede to throw these stones at the woman up against the wall, until she dies.
Brutal.
Now let me pause here for a second. Because you should know that so far in this story, while these guys may seem like jerks, they are completely in the right.
Let me repeat that: they are absolutely right. They're justified. Validated. Not in the wrong. They win.
What they have said is not against the law, it is not false, nor is it even indecent in the sociological context.
To be fair, these guys are worried about what's best for their society, and maybe a little bit about themselves. They feel threatened, and feel allowing any indecency to occur in their midst would enable crumbling in their system, which has worked well for them for years. They're tough on the rules, because otherwise the entire structure and support everyone counts on would collapse. Who can blame someone that wants to protect what they think is best for their children and the society in which they live?
The one that's in the wrong is the woman. She cheated. Committed adultery. She is messing with the family genes and is therefore deserving of punishment. This punishment. "Stones thrown at you until you're dead" punishment.
The man they're saying all this to knows this, the rules and what's right in this situation. The poor woman can only look on, horrified, as she knows exactly what's coming for her.
The man doesn't respond immediately. Instead, he bends down and starts to write on the ground. The woman looks on anxiously, wondering if he's attempting to start class again. Maybe he didn't hear them, although she's not sure how that's possible.
Her accusers repeat her crimes, demanding the man respond.
The woman wonders if there's more to this story than her recent indiscretion - these men seem to be keen on getting an answer from this man, and she wonders why they haven't just started throwing rocks at her. What's one less arm throwing a stone going to really do to the process of a slow and painful death for her?
After they continue to question him, the man stops writing in the dust, and stands up. He turns to the men who dragged her here, who are still holding her up, who are accusing her and questioning him, and simply says that whomever has never done anything wrong should be the one to throw the first stone at this woman.
Then he drops down to ground level and takes up his writing in the sand once again.
As the men accusing and the religious leaders yelling and the audience crowding around with their stones in hand hear this, they pause. A wave of hesitation sweeps over the anxious crowd. The woman looks around, and you can almost sense everyone at once stand up slowly, as their thoughts drift back into the depths of memory. They remember their own pasts, recall their own mistakes, and shudder, as they are forced to look back at ways they too have been imperfect.
One by one, beginning with the oldest, those with the longest histories, the people leave. The woman watches on, dumbfounded, as the crowd begins to dwindle.
Soon she is standing alone with the man who writes in the ground, the teacher, whose opinion every was so keen on hearing.
"[The man] straightened up and asked her, 'Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?'"
"No one," she said.
"Neither do I condemn you," Jesus said. "Go now, and leave your life of sin." (John 8:1-11)
Why does he let her go? It's not that he's unaware of the law. To be clear, he's completely aware of the letter of the law. But still, he lets her indiscretion slide. Why?
Because of what He understands. He knows her search for love was fruitless, that it was settled for in all the wrong places. He knows that when a person commits adultery, or another sin of any sort, the damage they're really doing is to their heart, and there's a longing inside that isn't being filled in the way it was meant to be filled.
So instead of condemnation, which locks a person to their mistakes and failed attempts at wholeness, he offers grace, and sets her free.
She's pursuing love, so what would condemnation do? Trap her.
What does grace do? Sets her free. To find what she really needs.
He leaves her with the command to leave the life she's been living, knowing that her heart longs to be filled, and the path she's been pursuing will not reach her desired destination. He sets her free to experience the full life she was meant to experience.
And regardless of the fact that the religious leaders and teachers and elders and men of authority were right, it was irrelevant, because there was something more important than being right.
In one of the enjoyable times of fellowship and conversation with one of the dishwashing staff at Taize, my dear friend Sona made this brilliant comment, "People have stones in their hearts, but we should give our stones to God." I don't think she realized at first how profound she'd just been. We'd been discussing Taize and the brilliance of its vision of reconciliation, and the beauty that emerges when people of all different varieties can come together to serve, to live, and to love one another. And I think to love, in the agape, Jesus-sense of the word does just that: it gives up the stones it carries, which imply both that we have something to throw, and a hardness of heart.
Taize's view of reconciliation and love is brilliant because it lets go. We drop our stones, and we pursue people instead. We pursue life for people and for ourselves, and a beautiful, fulfilled way to live it. We pursue wholeness, healing, unity, fellowship, and community.
Needing to be right can lead us to sacrifice that which is most important: the fact that there is a situation, a human, a circumstance right in front of us that needs to be loved, inspired, set free from the bondage from whence it came. We may be right at times, but it's irrelevant unless we're loving, i.e. seeking the best for someone. After all, Jesus gave us two commandments that unite them all: Love, and Love. (Matthew 22:36-40)
So, let us LOVE.
You or I may be right, but without loving someone in the process, it's irrelevant.
"If I have all abilities, all knowledge, all sacrifice, but have not love, I have nothing, and I am nothing." -1 Corinthians 13
Let go of the stones. Drop them. And let Jesus teach us about grace.
At the end of the story, notice that everyone leaves. Personally, I wish they'd stuck around, the ones with stones, the onlookers, etc. Maybe they could have learned something.
But then again, as Mother Theresa once said, "it was always between us and Him anyway."
“Adventure is a path. Real adventure – self-determined, self-motivated, often risky – forces you to have firsthand encounters with the world. The world the way it is, not the way you imagine it. Your body will collide with the earth and you will bear witness. In this way you will be compelled to grapple with the limitless kindness and bottomless cruelty of humankind – and perhaps realize that you yourself are capable of both. This will change you. Nothing will ever again be black-and-white.” –Mark Jenkins
"Under the surface, we're all the same. Searching for purpose, running from shame..." -Wideawake
"The most effective medicine here on earth is love unconditional." -Sri Chinmoy
"And they will know you [those who know Me] by the way you Love." - Jesus to the disciples
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Monday, May 17, 2010
Blisters.
Alex left for London yesterday, and will be Stateside tomorrow! What a lucky guy. Make sure to give him tons of hugs, and ask for pictures of his hair if you don't see it before his haircut. Those locks are a crazy long length at this point!
I'm currently still in Paris. But today I take a train out to a really neat community in the French countryside, where I'll be for a week or a number of weeks, no telling yet. After that, I'm just not quite sure about what the specific logistics will look like. I may head back to Italy for a bit, do some more exploring. Eventually I'll head to Belgium in June to serve with an organization called MCYM, which is student ministry for the kids of parents in the military. Very cool organization, we'll be taking kids on a couple youth trips, and I have the great pleasure of volunteering on those trips. Very exciting stuff. :)
Then after that I really have no idea. There's a possibility to head to Scotland to volunteer at another amazing and highly reputable community, but I'm still waiting to hear back. Fear not, you'll know when I'm back Stateside.
But until then, I'll be updating when I can, because the lessons and adventures on this trip are not even close to being finished.
What's funny to me is what a trip like this makes a person look like once it has taken its toll, and I mean that physically, mentally, spiritually, physiologically. At day 77, Alex and I have had more than our share of experiences, embarrassment, laughs, frustration, surprises, simple pleasures, confusion, being lost, new friends, taking too many pictures, not getting enough sleep, sleeping in the strangest places, trying to find our way, etc. We've handled tons of maps, broken English directions, metro and train tickets, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, foreign currency, host's keys, etc. All our clothes are dirty and there's a bit of fraying, and we're basically tourist-ed out. We're now used to sleeping anywhere as long as we're horizontal, but every so often we'll find a few hours of REM sleep even sitting upright on a train. We're ready to not be on the move every few days, and while I'll still be traveling even though Alex gets to head home, the blessing is I'll be able to be in one place for a longer amount of time than what we were clocking before.
Not only do we have the pictures and blog and stories and worn backpacks to prove the authenticity of this trip, (That's to say, we haven't been hiding out in a basement somewhere back home faking a 7 hour time difference), but Alex is a little bit scruffier, both of us have crazy long hair, and to look at us you'd notice we're a little worn from the type of living we've been doing. Although, I think he's made it out more unscathed than I have.
On this trip I have had what I believe was food poisoning, and a strange stomach resulting from that experience for about a week and a half. I currently have what look like zombie eyes because of a blood vessel issue in both eyes, so I wear my sunglasses at night (in addition to indoors and out during the day) to avoid frightening little children. The blisters on my feet are on their 6th or 7th generation. Honestly, I never thought I'd get used to walking on blisters, and no longer find it uncomfortable. But truth be told I've grown used to my blistered feet, they no longer cause me pain, discomfort, nor do I really take much notice anymore. A trip like this is guaranteed to take its toll on a person, and would be letting you down if it didn't change you.
In Isaiah there's a verse that says, "How beautiful are the feet of those that bring the good news." (Isaiah 52:7). Take a minute to think about the kind of feet referred to here. I seriously doubt they're foot models. Considering these, and the feet of Jesus and the disciples, those feet have seen a lot of walking in their constant travels, as was necessary to communicate any sort of message to more people than in your small community. I imagine their feet would shock the Vietnamese woman giving pedicures as I'm sure mine would, if not more. Travel, specifically travel by walking, was a staple for the lives of those who wanted to get a message out, and especially a staple for the disciples, etc. And I now have first hand experience of what the feet of a traveler that does a tremendous amount of walking look like.
I'm thankful for the blisters, because they mean we've been traveling. They mean we've gone places, seen things, met people, had experiences, made ripples in the water of this world, experienced growth, and perhaps places and people are different for having met us, or are inspired from having known us, as I know for certain we are different and inspired for having been to those places and met new people. I'm thankful for the callouses that develop from the blister process, for on this journey we have lost layers, of skin, and more importantly, of who we were, layers we thought we needed, only to find that they have been replaced by new, stronger layers underneath.
Did you know that the Monarch butterfly, in caterpillar form, sheds it's skin/shell 4-5 times before it actually undergoes the butterfly transformation process? When it does finally go from caterpillar to butterfly, the emergence from the cocoon is a great struggle for the butterfly. But it is this struggle that gives the butterfly its beauty, and its wings the great strength needed for life. For the more the butterfly struggles when coming out of its cocoon, the stronger and more beautiful its wings will be.
May we grow to be grateful for the struggles and trials we are enduring, whether at home or abroad, knowing that there is a strength and perseverance building up from enduring such things, a beauty soon to behold, a great change going on within. I agree with Paul when he says, "For I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us." (Romans 8:18)
"Meaning is not something you stumble across, like an answer to a riddle or the prize in a treasure hunt. Meaning is something you build into your life. You build it out of your own past, out of the affections and loyalties, out of the experience of humankind as it is passed on to you, out of your own talent and understanding, out of the things you believe in, out of the things and people you love, out of the values for which you are willing to sacrifice something. The ingredients are there. You are the only one who can put them together into that unique pattern that will be your life. Let it be a life that has dignity and meaning for you. If it does, then the particular balance of success or failure is of less account."
“To get to know a country, you must have direct contact with the earth. It’s futile to gaze at the world through a car window.” – Albert Einstein
I'm currently still in Paris. But today I take a train out to a really neat community in the French countryside, where I'll be for a week or a number of weeks, no telling yet. After that, I'm just not quite sure about what the specific logistics will look like. I may head back to Italy for a bit, do some more exploring. Eventually I'll head to Belgium in June to serve with an organization called MCYM, which is student ministry for the kids of parents in the military. Very cool organization, we'll be taking kids on a couple youth trips, and I have the great pleasure of volunteering on those trips. Very exciting stuff. :)
Then after that I really have no idea. There's a possibility to head to Scotland to volunteer at another amazing and highly reputable community, but I'm still waiting to hear back. Fear not, you'll know when I'm back Stateside.
But until then, I'll be updating when I can, because the lessons and adventures on this trip are not even close to being finished.
What's funny to me is what a trip like this makes a person look like once it has taken its toll, and I mean that physically, mentally, spiritually, physiologically. At day 77, Alex and I have had more than our share of experiences, embarrassment, laughs, frustration, surprises, simple pleasures, confusion, being lost, new friends, taking too many pictures, not getting enough sleep, sleeping in the strangest places, trying to find our way, etc. We've handled tons of maps, broken English directions, metro and train tickets, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, foreign currency, host's keys, etc. All our clothes are dirty and there's a bit of fraying, and we're basically tourist-ed out. We're now used to sleeping anywhere as long as we're horizontal, but every so often we'll find a few hours of REM sleep even sitting upright on a train. We're ready to not be on the move every few days, and while I'll still be traveling even though Alex gets to head home, the blessing is I'll be able to be in one place for a longer amount of time than what we were clocking before.
Not only do we have the pictures and blog and stories and worn backpacks to prove the authenticity of this trip, (That's to say, we haven't been hiding out in a basement somewhere back home faking a 7 hour time difference), but Alex is a little bit scruffier, both of us have crazy long hair, and to look at us you'd notice we're a little worn from the type of living we've been doing. Although, I think he's made it out more unscathed than I have.
On this trip I have had what I believe was food poisoning, and a strange stomach resulting from that experience for about a week and a half. I currently have what look like zombie eyes because of a blood vessel issue in both eyes, so I wear my sunglasses at night (in addition to indoors and out during the day) to avoid frightening little children. The blisters on my feet are on their 6th or 7th generation. Honestly, I never thought I'd get used to walking on blisters, and no longer find it uncomfortable. But truth be told I've grown used to my blistered feet, they no longer cause me pain, discomfort, nor do I really take much notice anymore. A trip like this is guaranteed to take its toll on a person, and would be letting you down if it didn't change you.
In Isaiah there's a verse that says, "How beautiful are the feet of those that bring the good news." (Isaiah 52:7). Take a minute to think about the kind of feet referred to here. I seriously doubt they're foot models. Considering these, and the feet of Jesus and the disciples, those feet have seen a lot of walking in their constant travels, as was necessary to communicate any sort of message to more people than in your small community. I imagine their feet would shock the Vietnamese woman giving pedicures as I'm sure mine would, if not more. Travel, specifically travel by walking, was a staple for the lives of those who wanted to get a message out, and especially a staple for the disciples, etc. And I now have first hand experience of what the feet of a traveler that does a tremendous amount of walking look like.
I'm thankful for the blisters, because they mean we've been traveling. They mean we've gone places, seen things, met people, had experiences, made ripples in the water of this world, experienced growth, and perhaps places and people are different for having met us, or are inspired from having known us, as I know for certain we are different and inspired for having been to those places and met new people. I'm thankful for the callouses that develop from the blister process, for on this journey we have lost layers, of skin, and more importantly, of who we were, layers we thought we needed, only to find that they have been replaced by new, stronger layers underneath.
Did you know that the Monarch butterfly, in caterpillar form, sheds it's skin/shell 4-5 times before it actually undergoes the butterfly transformation process? When it does finally go from caterpillar to butterfly, the emergence from the cocoon is a great struggle for the butterfly. But it is this struggle that gives the butterfly its beauty, and its wings the great strength needed for life. For the more the butterfly struggles when coming out of its cocoon, the stronger and more beautiful its wings will be.
May we grow to be grateful for the struggles and trials we are enduring, whether at home or abroad, knowing that there is a strength and perseverance building up from enduring such things, a beauty soon to behold, a great change going on within. I agree with Paul when he says, "For I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us." (Romans 8:18)
"Meaning is not something you stumble across, like an answer to a riddle or the prize in a treasure hunt. Meaning is something you build into your life. You build it out of your own past, out of the affections and loyalties, out of the experience of humankind as it is passed on to you, out of your own talent and understanding, out of the things you believe in, out of the things and people you love, out of the values for which you are willing to sacrifice something. The ingredients are there. You are the only one who can put them together into that unique pattern that will be your life. Let it be a life that has dignity and meaning for you. If it does, then the particular balance of success or failure is of less account."
“To get to know a country, you must have direct contact with the earth. It’s futile to gaze at the world through a car window.” – Albert Einstein
Monday, May 10, 2010
Invisibility on the Metro.
Imagine a train station. Imagine high ceilings, long hallways, and lighted boards constantly flickering, displaying destinations and times and platform numbers. Imagine directional signs guiding a person towards luggage storage, the ticket counter, the toilets, the exit, and the nearest metro station. Imagine escalators and stairs going in every direction, leading the masses to various platforms, through security checks, to local restaurant flavor and shopping for the traveler to nourish their needs and spending desires. Imagine flurries of people with suitcases, backpacks, pets, children, guidebooks, cell phones, and maps, meandering through such a scene, all in a hurry, trying to avoid all obstacles, human and inanimate, that may be in their frantic way.
Imagine a metro station. Imagine a dark tunnel, with one or two sets of rails parked in between opposite platforms. Imagine a row of ticket machines with lines of people in front of them, all fishing through their pockets for change as they navigate the 21st century touch screen. Imagine the crowds pouring down the escalators from upper to lower levels, and the stairways packed with people moving at a slow pace that allows no one to be in much of a hurry. Imagine rows of turnstiles checking your purchased ticket that's small enough to be impossible not to lose, with all but two of the turnstiles in either direction out of order. Imagine colorful maps and color-coated signs directing the masses to the correct destination and line. Imagine trains that run on time and follow the "every two minutes" time clock on the one board per tunnel, but train cars that are so packed that you can often forget about sitting down, in fact, you're always breathing in the flavor of someone else's chewing gum, your hands slip due to the humidity of so many people from the bars that are meant to help stabilize as the train weaves through the winding tunnels, all the while you're wishing you could be one of the people only carrying a purse instead of the giant backpack your current lifestyle demands.
These days, these are the places I live.
And these are my neighbors, the people I sit next to but never speak with, the people whose personal space I have invaded and they've invaded mine but we've never introduced ourselves, the people I've spent hours with going from one country to another but have never known what their passions are or who their dearest friends are, nor do they know this information about me.
These are my neighbors, and half the time, I don't even see them. Perhaps they don't even see me. (Although, when Alex and I have the backpacks on, everyone sees us.) This isn't an animous or bitter observation, because especially on the metro, we aim to go unseen. Not only can it be awkward to make eye contact, but you're focused on going from point A to point B, you're counting the stops until yours, and a person hardly has time to concern themselves with who else is riding the same metro. People on the metro avoid eye contact, put on their headphones, stick their noses in books; they stay in their own world for the same reason I dress even more conservatively than I do back home: we don't want to be noticed. We're aiming for invisibility.
And this makes sense in the context. You're on your way to or from work, your mind is in another place, you're trying to get something done, etc. Perhaps it's purely an effort to mentally use the time efficiently, or it could be that after a long and trying day, it's nice to get some quiet and not have to interact for your 30 minute commute home. Perhaps you just don't want to be a possible victim of the common theft that often occurs in such places.
The invisibility can be quite appealing, I imagine. Whether traveling from city to city or enjoying the personal seclusion of the crowded metro, you're never really staying long enough for people to actually see you, or for any sort of responsibility or ownership to settle in. We've been traveling for over two months now, and honestly, we make new friends every single day. But even if we spend a few days exploring cities and sharing in laughs with these people, we don't ever get the pleasure of really getting to know their depth, or letting them know ours.
And the cities, don't even get me started on how much we don't see in each city and country. It's impossible to do unless you have months and years of time to dedicate to each. When backpacking, time really only allows you to scratch the surface with people and places, and honestly, you really only get to wave at them, then bid them the best of luck in their travels.
Most of the time, this is acceptable, at least to us. Because we're on a mission to see places and keep moving, and it's not all that sad to leave things behind with such a bright future ahead. But then again, every once in a while you meet someone, or you encounter a place, and leaving doesn't become so easy anymore.
Did you know that when you ride the metro, you purchase a ticket in the denomination of "journeys"? Meaning, you can purchase one "journey", or you can purchase, let's say, 10 "journeys", which is a handy purchase for the tourist/traveler such as we are.
But one "journey" is defined as the distance from where you first enter the metro, to where you last exit the metro. That being said, a "journey" could consist of riding only one line, if that's all it takes to get to where you're going, or it could involve two or three metro lines, and multiple interchanges. From when you first enter the metro system to when you eventually exit, this is all under the definition of one, single "journey."
So theoretically, if a person had the time and desire, for the small price of a "one journey" ticket, one could just ride the metro all day long, never exiting to return up above to the hustle and bustle of life, never getting off at a stop to go out and participate in the world around. A person could just keep on riding the metro, to their heart's content.
Come to think of it, it seems entirely possible that a person could spend their entire life on the hypothetical metro, never getting off at any stop, never actually participating in a life where people see you and know you.
I suppose you could be anyone on the metro, or while traveling. The other day, we were at a hostel in Lisbon, and the 47762657th person asked me what I would do when I went home/what I did when I wasn't traveling. Instead of giving them the honest epic tale briefly telling of 2-3 years searching for purpose and enlightenment, which is still ongoing, I thought I'd spare this stranger/potential friend the bore, and instead provide some lightheartedness between us. So I simply responded,
"I'm a ninja."
And without missing a beat, he was clever enough to respond with comments about the job security of such a career and his personal struggle with tapping into such a secretive job market. It's always a good day when you find someone so quick-witted and easygoing as that with which to banter.
But the thought then occurred to me how easy this would be to do everywhere. One city I could play the ninja card, then next city or country I'm an underwater basket weaver, another I'm a pirate on leave, and the next perhaps my life consists of circus performances and finely tuned trapeze skills.
And like the hypothetical metro, I would remain in a perpetual state of invisibility, because no one would ever actually get to know who I really am.
For the last 6-7 years, I've lived a life that many would consider nomadic. Never quite satisfied with where I was, the place and the path I was pursuing continued to change every few months or year. A mentor once said I was simply having trouble adjusting to the point in life where it was time to lay down roots. But at this news I was appauled - I had no intention, at the time of that conversation, to lay down any roots anywhere. It wasn't that I was having trouble adjusting, it was that I was adamantly rejecting the idea! That was 3 years ago. Now, I'm beginning to see that traveling is teaching me what it really means to be somewhere, and the type of place I'd really like to be, what it means to really get to know a place, a city, etc, not to mention the type of person I'd really like to be. (Yes, a ninja.)
Traveling can be so glamorous, but as we move from place to place I begin to hear the Postal Service's cold words in the back of my head, "I am a visitor here, I am not permanent..."
I think after a while it will be time to get off the hypothetical metro, and hopefully we all find a place where we can do so. There's something very beautiful about finding your way home, to the people that you'd like to let go of the invisibility for. I suppose it can be frightening, letting down one's guard, because what if they don't like what they see, or we don't like who we really are behind the fun and entertaining "ninja" mask? But to have a place where people know you, where you're really seen in a deep and powerful way, can be the most incredible feeling and reality to discover. I know there is great beauty to be found in places I can visit. But what can be said about the beauty of a place you don't want to leave?
Perhaps we're all trying to get home, to a place where we can let down our guard, and be visible, to people. Except I wonder, if you ride the hypothetical metro long enough, do you forget how to be anything but invisible?
If you know and see me, you can inspire me, encourage me, support me, cry with me, laugh with me, gently help me see my faults and blind spots, grow with me, and share in all things that life entails with me. If I know and see you, I have the great pleasure of doing the same, and I can share in your life with you. But as exciting as it can be to constantly be on the move, unless we get off the metro and dig in somewhere, we will never be able to experience more than this surface level joy with people, or with the places we visit.
It doesn't even have to be literal travel. Like I said, the metro could be hypothetical. Proximity to someone does not automatically mean depth of relationship, and your literal neighbors could be just as foreign to you as those I ride the metro with daily. On the other side, there are those that I do not currently see at all that know my heart more deeply than everyone else on the planet. I think, like in the case of the metro or the ninja question, it all depends on how much we let someone else see into who we really are, and if we're actually listening when someone decides to let us see who they really are.
My hope is that whatever our travels may be, we are learning what it means to dig in to a place, to fully be known to people and to fully know people, to stop 'flirting with life' and to start building solid relationships and legacies. Because it is becoming increasingly obvious that it is people that make up the stories worth telling, that make the memories worth reliving, and that make the journey and places come to life.
"Everybody's talkin' in words I don't understand
You've got to be the only one who knows just who I am...
Cause you make it real to me" -James Morrison
"We are all travelers in the wilderness of this world, and the best we can find in our travels is an honest friend." -Robert Louis Stevenson
“Traveling is like flirting with life. It’s like saying, ‘I would stay and love you, but I have to go; this is my station.’” –Lisa St. Aubin de Teran
Imagine a metro station. Imagine a dark tunnel, with one or two sets of rails parked in between opposite platforms. Imagine a row of ticket machines with lines of people in front of them, all fishing through their pockets for change as they navigate the 21st century touch screen. Imagine the crowds pouring down the escalators from upper to lower levels, and the stairways packed with people moving at a slow pace that allows no one to be in much of a hurry. Imagine rows of turnstiles checking your purchased ticket that's small enough to be impossible not to lose, with all but two of the turnstiles in either direction out of order. Imagine colorful maps and color-coated signs directing the masses to the correct destination and line. Imagine trains that run on time and follow the "every two minutes" time clock on the one board per tunnel, but train cars that are so packed that you can often forget about sitting down, in fact, you're always breathing in the flavor of someone else's chewing gum, your hands slip due to the humidity of so many people from the bars that are meant to help stabilize as the train weaves through the winding tunnels, all the while you're wishing you could be one of the people only carrying a purse instead of the giant backpack your current lifestyle demands.
These days, these are the places I live.
And these are my neighbors, the people I sit next to but never speak with, the people whose personal space I have invaded and they've invaded mine but we've never introduced ourselves, the people I've spent hours with going from one country to another but have never known what their passions are or who their dearest friends are, nor do they know this information about me.
These are my neighbors, and half the time, I don't even see them. Perhaps they don't even see me. (Although, when Alex and I have the backpacks on, everyone sees us.) This isn't an animous or bitter observation, because especially on the metro, we aim to go unseen. Not only can it be awkward to make eye contact, but you're focused on going from point A to point B, you're counting the stops until yours, and a person hardly has time to concern themselves with who else is riding the same metro. People on the metro avoid eye contact, put on their headphones, stick their noses in books; they stay in their own world for the same reason I dress even more conservatively than I do back home: we don't want to be noticed. We're aiming for invisibility.
And this makes sense in the context. You're on your way to or from work, your mind is in another place, you're trying to get something done, etc. Perhaps it's purely an effort to mentally use the time efficiently, or it could be that after a long and trying day, it's nice to get some quiet and not have to interact for your 30 minute commute home. Perhaps you just don't want to be a possible victim of the common theft that often occurs in such places.
The invisibility can be quite appealing, I imagine. Whether traveling from city to city or enjoying the personal seclusion of the crowded metro, you're never really staying long enough for people to actually see you, or for any sort of responsibility or ownership to settle in. We've been traveling for over two months now, and honestly, we make new friends every single day. But even if we spend a few days exploring cities and sharing in laughs with these people, we don't ever get the pleasure of really getting to know their depth, or letting them know ours.
And the cities, don't even get me started on how much we don't see in each city and country. It's impossible to do unless you have months and years of time to dedicate to each. When backpacking, time really only allows you to scratch the surface with people and places, and honestly, you really only get to wave at them, then bid them the best of luck in their travels.
Most of the time, this is acceptable, at least to us. Because we're on a mission to see places and keep moving, and it's not all that sad to leave things behind with such a bright future ahead. But then again, every once in a while you meet someone, or you encounter a place, and leaving doesn't become so easy anymore.
Did you know that when you ride the metro, you purchase a ticket in the denomination of "journeys"? Meaning, you can purchase one "journey", or you can purchase, let's say, 10 "journeys", which is a handy purchase for the tourist/traveler such as we are.
But one "journey" is defined as the distance from where you first enter the metro, to where you last exit the metro. That being said, a "journey" could consist of riding only one line, if that's all it takes to get to where you're going, or it could involve two or three metro lines, and multiple interchanges. From when you first enter the metro system to when you eventually exit, this is all under the definition of one, single "journey."
So theoretically, if a person had the time and desire, for the small price of a "one journey" ticket, one could just ride the metro all day long, never exiting to return up above to the hustle and bustle of life, never getting off at a stop to go out and participate in the world around. A person could just keep on riding the metro, to their heart's content.
Come to think of it, it seems entirely possible that a person could spend their entire life on the hypothetical metro, never getting off at any stop, never actually participating in a life where people see you and know you.
I suppose you could be anyone on the metro, or while traveling. The other day, we were at a hostel in Lisbon, and the 47762657th person asked me what I would do when I went home/what I did when I wasn't traveling. Instead of giving them the honest epic tale briefly telling of 2-3 years searching for purpose and enlightenment, which is still ongoing, I thought I'd spare this stranger/potential friend the bore, and instead provide some lightheartedness between us. So I simply responded,
"I'm a ninja."
And without missing a beat, he was clever enough to respond with comments about the job security of such a career and his personal struggle with tapping into such a secretive job market. It's always a good day when you find someone so quick-witted and easygoing as that with which to banter.
But the thought then occurred to me how easy this would be to do everywhere. One city I could play the ninja card, then next city or country I'm an underwater basket weaver, another I'm a pirate on leave, and the next perhaps my life consists of circus performances and finely tuned trapeze skills.
And like the hypothetical metro, I would remain in a perpetual state of invisibility, because no one would ever actually get to know who I really am.
For the last 6-7 years, I've lived a life that many would consider nomadic. Never quite satisfied with where I was, the place and the path I was pursuing continued to change every few months or year. A mentor once said I was simply having trouble adjusting to the point in life where it was time to lay down roots. But at this news I was appauled - I had no intention, at the time of that conversation, to lay down any roots anywhere. It wasn't that I was having trouble adjusting, it was that I was adamantly rejecting the idea! That was 3 years ago. Now, I'm beginning to see that traveling is teaching me what it really means to be somewhere, and the type of place I'd really like to be, what it means to really get to know a place, a city, etc, not to mention the type of person I'd really like to be. (Yes, a ninja.)
Traveling can be so glamorous, but as we move from place to place I begin to hear the Postal Service's cold words in the back of my head, "I am a visitor here, I am not permanent..."
I think after a while it will be time to get off the hypothetical metro, and hopefully we all find a place where we can do so. There's something very beautiful about finding your way home, to the people that you'd like to let go of the invisibility for. I suppose it can be frightening, letting down one's guard, because what if they don't like what they see, or we don't like who we really are behind the fun and entertaining "ninja" mask? But to have a place where people know you, where you're really seen in a deep and powerful way, can be the most incredible feeling and reality to discover. I know there is great beauty to be found in places I can visit. But what can be said about the beauty of a place you don't want to leave?
Perhaps we're all trying to get home, to a place where we can let down our guard, and be visible, to people. Except I wonder, if you ride the hypothetical metro long enough, do you forget how to be anything but invisible?
If you know and see me, you can inspire me, encourage me, support me, cry with me, laugh with me, gently help me see my faults and blind spots, grow with me, and share in all things that life entails with me. If I know and see you, I have the great pleasure of doing the same, and I can share in your life with you. But as exciting as it can be to constantly be on the move, unless we get off the metro and dig in somewhere, we will never be able to experience more than this surface level joy with people, or with the places we visit.
It doesn't even have to be literal travel. Like I said, the metro could be hypothetical. Proximity to someone does not automatically mean depth of relationship, and your literal neighbors could be just as foreign to you as those I ride the metro with daily. On the other side, there are those that I do not currently see at all that know my heart more deeply than everyone else on the planet. I think, like in the case of the metro or the ninja question, it all depends on how much we let someone else see into who we really are, and if we're actually listening when someone decides to let us see who they really are.
My hope is that whatever our travels may be, we are learning what it means to dig in to a place, to fully be known to people and to fully know people, to stop 'flirting with life' and to start building solid relationships and legacies. Because it is becoming increasingly obvious that it is people that make up the stories worth telling, that make the memories worth reliving, and that make the journey and places come to life.
"Everybody's talkin' in words I don't understand
You've got to be the only one who knows just who I am...
Cause you make it real to me" -James Morrison
"We are all travelers in the wilderness of this world, and the best we can find in our travels is an honest friend." -Robert Louis Stevenson
“Traveling is like flirting with life. It’s like saying, ‘I would stay and love you, but I have to go; this is my station.’” –Lisa St. Aubin de Teran
Sunday, May 9, 2010
Some days you turn 25.
Like today, for example.
Some days your birthday is on Mother's Day, and the two go poetically hand in hand, since you're her oldest child. :) You're thankful she decided to be a mom, that she keeps deciding to be a great one, and you're thankful to be alive yet another year, breathing oxygen and all that jazz.
Some days, you're traveling, backpacking through Europe with your 19 year old brother.
Some days, like today, you sleep and wake up on a train, even if it's your birthday. Because the day still has its priorities and demands, and right now the priorities and plans involve travel.
Some days, you're surrounded by strangers that have no idea today is so special in your world, as my current neighbors are always strangers, and my current neighborhood(s) are metro and train stations.
Some days are better than others, especially when traveling.
Some days, despite your careful planning, volcanic ash and other things in the universe cause your well-laid plans to go awry, and instead of making it all the way to Italy tonight, you find yourself stuck in places you didn't plan to be.
But some days being stuck isn't so bad.
Because some days do take their own course, but often, if you listen as the day unfolds, things can turn out quite better than you'd planned, people can surprise you, and a day you might have thought to be regular and a birthday you thought might pass by rather unnoticed can turn out to be absolutely blissful.
Some days you end up sleeping in Barcelona rather than on another night train. Which means that some days, this 25 year old gets the opportunity to get a shower and sleep in a comfy bed rather than a train seat, go for an evening run on the beach in Barcelona, enjoy a free meal, use the free internet to receive her warm birthday wishes from her thoughtful friends and family, and go to the zoo with her brother and their new friends to celebrate her 25 years of existence.
Some days, much like this trip, are nothing like I expected. But when given the chance to run their course, most days, especially this trip, are everything I hoped they would be. Some days are not what we imagined, but exactly what we needed.
I love days like these. :)
“To travel is to live.” -Hans Christian Andersen
“Stop worrying about the potholes in the road and celebrate the journey.” -Fitzhugh Mullan
“All journeys have secret destinations of which the traveler is unaware.” -Martin Buber
Some days your birthday is on Mother's Day, and the two go poetically hand in hand, since you're her oldest child. :) You're thankful she decided to be a mom, that she keeps deciding to be a great one, and you're thankful to be alive yet another year, breathing oxygen and all that jazz.
Some days, you're traveling, backpacking through Europe with your 19 year old brother.
Some days, like today, you sleep and wake up on a train, even if it's your birthday. Because the day still has its priorities and demands, and right now the priorities and plans involve travel.
Some days, you're surrounded by strangers that have no idea today is so special in your world, as my current neighbors are always strangers, and my current neighborhood(s) are metro and train stations.
Some days are better than others, especially when traveling.
Some days, despite your careful planning, volcanic ash and other things in the universe cause your well-laid plans to go awry, and instead of making it all the way to Italy tonight, you find yourself stuck in places you didn't plan to be.
But some days being stuck isn't so bad.
Because some days do take their own course, but often, if you listen as the day unfolds, things can turn out quite better than you'd planned, people can surprise you, and a day you might have thought to be regular and a birthday you thought might pass by rather unnoticed can turn out to be absolutely blissful.
Some days you end up sleeping in Barcelona rather than on another night train. Which means that some days, this 25 year old gets the opportunity to get a shower and sleep in a comfy bed rather than a train seat, go for an evening run on the beach in Barcelona, enjoy a free meal, use the free internet to receive her warm birthday wishes from her thoughtful friends and family, and go to the zoo with her brother and their new friends to celebrate her 25 years of existence.
Some days, much like this trip, are nothing like I expected. But when given the chance to run their course, most days, especially this trip, are everything I hoped they would be. Some days are not what we imagined, but exactly what we needed.
I love days like these. :)
“To travel is to live.” -Hans Christian Andersen
“Stop worrying about the potholes in the road and celebrate the journey.” -Fitzhugh Mullan
“All journeys have secret destinations of which the traveler is unaware.” -Martin Buber
Sunday, May 2, 2010
15 days until the next great adventure.
15 days until Alex and I part ways. He'll head back to the States and I'll head to the French countryside for a bit.
We're currently in Barcelona, and tomorrow we leave for Madrid.
I turn 25 in one week. And all I ask for my birthday is that you have and enjoy some Taco Bell, on May 9th. That would be the best gift ever. :)
We're still having a great time. But I think in some ways we're ready for what's next. For Alex, the land of the free and the home of the brave, complete with free refills, Taco Bell, good friends and loved ones. For me, a time of some very cool and highly recommended communities where I get the chance to volunteer, meet some incredible kids, go back to Italy for a while, go to the French countryside, go back up to Scotland, and hopefully be completely ready for the path and graduate study I'll pursue when I do finally return to the States. We'll see how it all plays out... :)
For Alex the trip is almost over, at least the trip abroad. J.M. Barrie said, in his tale Peter Pan, "To live will be a great adventure."
For me, I haven't even hit the halfway point for being abroad yet.
Unbelievable.
It's funny to me to think how life goes on, even when we may feel the world should stop turning because of an event or circumstance. Someone dies, and the rest of the world gets up the next morning and drives to work and goes about their business as if they're unaware that our world has stopped. Someone leaves/moves, and even though they're missed, we carry on, we go about our days. 9/11 happens in the States, and Texas still has their football games and practices. The London Underground is bombed, and the British still carry on, business as usual, by riding the Tube, as if nothing happened. It's not insensitive, and it's not just the sorrowful moments. It's actually quite brilliant. For if the world stopped turning every time an event of great magnitude occured, at the macro or micro level, nothing would ever get done, there would be no force of time pulling forward the grieving/healing process, and we'd all have a bit of metaphysical whiplash from the world constantly slamming on the brakes.
Alex and I, we've certainly changed. We may not be aware of how we've changed, or that we've changed at all, but after visiting over 50 cities in 2.5 months, meeting a handful of people in each country, and sharing in meals, laughs, and adventures with those people and the various cities, a person can't go through such things and not come out the other end different than how he or she went in. Absolutely unavoidable.
And yet, you've changed too. You've had days and seen things and had experiences that we haven't been able to share in with you. Life has carried on back home even though we weren't there to live it with you.
When we return home, you may think our stories are more exciting to hear and tell. But I beg to differ, because where you were, life was happening and people were interacting and transportation was necessary and not always predictable...and we're going to want to hear about it.
We promise to tell you our stories, and hopefully avoid too much embellishment. Hopefully up until this point you've felt like you've been able to join in some of our experiences. But you should tell us yours too. Because we're coming home, to reinsert ourselves back into your lives, and we have every intention of having just as much fun in the day to day, as we had here in Europe, living the alleged "adventurous" life. Because I agree with J.M. Barrie. I think, among the people that we love and cherish and have missed ever so much, the people we can't wait to get home to, to laugh with and hug once again, to meet at Starbucks, Taco Bell, or anywhere conducive for some phenomenal conversation, to watch hours of tv series marathons and movies with and live the daily life with - to be back among our people and living, that is the next great adventure.
Personally, I am so looking forward to it. :)
"No one realizes how beautiful it is to travel until he comes home and rests his head on his old, familiar pillow." - Lin Yutang
"I should like to spend the whole of my in life travelling abroad, if I could anywhere borrow another life to spend afterwards at home.” – William Hazlitt
“A man travels the world over in search of what he needs and returns home to find it.” – George Moore
We're currently in Barcelona, and tomorrow we leave for Madrid.
I turn 25 in one week. And all I ask for my birthday is that you have and enjoy some Taco Bell, on May 9th. That would be the best gift ever. :)
We're still having a great time. But I think in some ways we're ready for what's next. For Alex, the land of the free and the home of the brave, complete with free refills, Taco Bell, good friends and loved ones. For me, a time of some very cool and highly recommended communities where I get the chance to volunteer, meet some incredible kids, go back to Italy for a while, go to the French countryside, go back up to Scotland, and hopefully be completely ready for the path and graduate study I'll pursue when I do finally return to the States. We'll see how it all plays out... :)
For Alex the trip is almost over, at least the trip abroad. J.M. Barrie said, in his tale Peter Pan, "To live will be a great adventure."
For me, I haven't even hit the halfway point for being abroad yet.
Unbelievable.
It's funny to me to think how life goes on, even when we may feel the world should stop turning because of an event or circumstance. Someone dies, and the rest of the world gets up the next morning and drives to work and goes about their business as if they're unaware that our world has stopped. Someone leaves/moves, and even though they're missed, we carry on, we go about our days. 9/11 happens in the States, and Texas still has their football games and practices. The London Underground is bombed, and the British still carry on, business as usual, by riding the Tube, as if nothing happened. It's not insensitive, and it's not just the sorrowful moments. It's actually quite brilliant. For if the world stopped turning every time an event of great magnitude occured, at the macro or micro level, nothing would ever get done, there would be no force of time pulling forward the grieving/healing process, and we'd all have a bit of metaphysical whiplash from the world constantly slamming on the brakes.
Alex and I, we've certainly changed. We may not be aware of how we've changed, or that we've changed at all, but after visiting over 50 cities in 2.5 months, meeting a handful of people in each country, and sharing in meals, laughs, and adventures with those people and the various cities, a person can't go through such things and not come out the other end different than how he or she went in. Absolutely unavoidable.
And yet, you've changed too. You've had days and seen things and had experiences that we haven't been able to share in with you. Life has carried on back home even though we weren't there to live it with you.
When we return home, you may think our stories are more exciting to hear and tell. But I beg to differ, because where you were, life was happening and people were interacting and transportation was necessary and not always predictable...and we're going to want to hear about it.
We promise to tell you our stories, and hopefully avoid too much embellishment. Hopefully up until this point you've felt like you've been able to join in some of our experiences. But you should tell us yours too. Because we're coming home, to reinsert ourselves back into your lives, and we have every intention of having just as much fun in the day to day, as we had here in Europe, living the alleged "adventurous" life. Because I agree with J.M. Barrie. I think, among the people that we love and cherish and have missed ever so much, the people we can't wait to get home to, to laugh with and hug once again, to meet at Starbucks, Taco Bell, or anywhere conducive for some phenomenal conversation, to watch hours of tv series marathons and movies with and live the daily life with - to be back among our people and living, that is the next great adventure.
Personally, I am so looking forward to it. :)
"No one realizes how beautiful it is to travel until he comes home and rests his head on his old, familiar pillow." - Lin Yutang
"I should like to spend the whole of my in life travelling abroad, if I could anywhere borrow another life to spend afterwards at home.” – William Hazlitt
“A man travels the world over in search of what he needs and returns home to find it.” – George Moore
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