The Seeker

August 27^th, 2019

4:19 P.M. Hastings, NE United States

From my time in Cambodia to my time leaving for Uruguay, I will have been in the United States for exactly 1 month. During that time, I’ve done speaking engagements, weekly reports, doing odd tasks here and there, as well as several attempts at packing to keep busy. But for the most part, I’ve been unsure about what to do with my free time. It’s more than I usually have, and it's something that definitely leaves me feeling bored. So along with finishing How to Get Away with Murder on Netflix (which I HIGHLY recommend), I’ve been reading a lot of books, one of which caught the attention of my scatterbrained mind. Wild, by Cheryl Strayed, was published in 2012 and was quite popular after its release. However, due to my previously busy schedule, I am just now understanding why it was so successful. 

If unfamiliar with her story, in 1995 and at the age of 22, Cheryl found herself an absolute wreck after the death of her mother, her own failed marriage, and a family that was crumbling around her. Without experience or training, she decided to hike the Pacific Crest Trail, which spans over 1,100 miles along the West coast of the United States. She decided to do this by herself over the course of a few months as a way to "get her life back” and heal.

Without spoiling what she had to face, I couldn’t help but think, “Wow, this is absolutely crazy! How did she survive that?” And then a few moments later, “This sounds like something I would do.” And I think I would. Or I would like to think that someday, with hopefully a little more training and experience, I could do something as wild (pardon the pun) as this.

Hopefully I can avoid the stream of unfortunate events that Cheryl had to experience in order to get her to this point, but I understand her desire to just go. It’s how I feel right now. It’s how I’ve felt before now. I’ve been talking with other GMFs preparing to leave, and all of them, while they are excited, they also express how nervous they are; they are sad and frightened to leave what’s behind them.

Maybe it makes me strange, but I don’t feel that.

I’ve got nothing but excitement. Maybe that will change when I board the plane in two days, but I’m simply not nervous. I know I’m going to struggle, especially with the language, but I can’t wait for that. Of course, there are several things for which I feel unprepared: money, packing, saying goodbye to people, and the daunting feeling that I’m always forgetting something. But even if I were given more time before my departure, I would still feel unprepared, so I’m not worried about that. More time isn’t going to prepare me; it’s just going to make me wait for something I’m so unbelievably ready to do right now.

As I was reading this book and finding similarities between our lives, I came across a conversation Cheryl remembers having with her mother a few weeks after she began her long hike:

“I was a terrible believer in things, but I was also a terrible nonbeliever in things. I was as searching as I was skeptical. I didn’t know where to put my faith, or if there was such a place, or even precisely what the word faith meant, in all of its complexity. Everything seemed to be possibly potent and possibly fake. ‘You’re a seeker,’ my mother had said to me when she was in her last week, lying in the bed in the hospital, ‘like me’” (134).

I think I’m a seeker, too. I’m not sure what I’m going to find, but I can’t wait to figure it out.

  

In the Bardo

August 1^st, 2019

5:29 P.M. Hastings, NE United States

It’s been a strange last few days. I’ve traveled back to the United States before I leave again in 4 weeks to Montevideo, Uruguay, and I feel isolated, physically and mentally.

Let me explain.

For the last 3 weeks, I’ve spent literally every moment with 50 incredible individuals from all over the world. After learning about their lives and why they chose the same path as me, I’m in awe. I’m so impressed by all of them that I question as to why I was chosen to be a part of this group. Every single person has something remarkable about them. How do you get that many incredible people in one room together? We became a family unit. We ate every meal together, we sat in long sessions together, and we traveled out to the provinces of Cambodia together. We were never without one another. And we all had a roommate as well, so believe me when I say, we were NEVER by ourselves.  

As an extrovert, I loved this. As a learner, I loved this. And when I woke up in my bed in Nebraska a few days ago, I felt uneasy. I walked out and it was so quiet. I walked around my house wanting to see people, but there was no one home. Even my dog was at the groomer getting a haircut. I was literally alone. The next day I went out to run errands and I kept imagining that I was seeing some of the people I spent so much time with in Cambodia. I’d see their faces, do a double-take, then realize it wasn’t them. They were in a different time zone, either sleeping or carrying on with their own lives.

I didn’t think I was away long enough to experience reverse culture shock, but apparently being surrounded by such a close community (even for a short amount of time) is enough to bring it in full force.  

(If you don’t know what reverse culture shock is or have never experienced it, see this link: https://www.marquette.edu/abroad/reentry-reverse-culture-shock.shtml )

I feel like I’ve been living in this middle space. I’m not fully in the United States, but I’m not completely in Cambodia either; it’s a bardo of sorts. My body is here, but my mind is there. I can feel something new beginning, but right now I’m just sad. I’m still calling, texting, and using every form of social media to talk with the many people that became my family, knowing that in a few short weeks our communication will stop and I won’t see most of them ever again. We can’t help it. It’s just reality. But it’s a hard pill to swallow.

Every single person I talk to says the same thing.

“I miss you.”

“Are you doing okay?”

“Do you miss everyone as much as I do?”

“I feel like I’m in this space of in between."

"I don’t know what to do with myself.”

“Love and miss you!”

Part of me feels guilty for feeling this way. Am I allowed to feel this? It was only 3 weeks. How is it going to be after I live in Uruguay for 2 whole years? (I don’t even want to think about that!)

Then I hear my friend Elma’s voice in my head: “We had a great time together and so many good conversations. We’re not robots. It’s okay to feel.” (I foresee there being several more words of wisdom coming from Elma in future blog posts.)

Will we get over it with time? Yes. But it doesn’t mean that it’s still not difficult. But I think sometimes we as humans figure that if we move on as soon as possible then it will be easier to keep that happy memory with us without being sad about it. I want to advise anyone reading this to stop doing that. Listen to Elma. It’s okay to feel. It’s okay to be sad that something good is over. I want you to take what you feel and use it to create new spaces of goodness.

Grab ahold of the good you find. Keep it. Use it to recognize that goodness in other places. It’s easy to think we won’t find it again. But it does pop up. I promise. Time helps if we’re willing to work with it.

Right now, I’m still sad. But I’m letting myself be sad. I’ve been here before, and I’ll be here again. Because although I may struggle to have breakfast without 17 other people surrounding me, or I’m missing the fact that I don’t get to hear 13 different languages being spoken every day, I know that the people that helped me feel this sadness are helping others feel joy. At this very moment they are sharing their gifts and what they’ve learned with so many others, and that gives me enough happiness to be okay. 

The "M Word" (Part II)

July 21^st, 2019

9:29 P.M. Phnom Penh, Cambodia

After returning from a weekend trip in the province Kampong Thom, I’ve been reflecting on how many incredible people I’ve met. It makes me want to cry just thinking that I have to leave them all in 7 days. How can strangers become so close in such a short amount of time? For this blog post, I want to dedicate it to four individuals I’ve had the honor of meeting and the privilege of becoming their friend. 

I believe in soul mates, but not the conventional kind. I believe we all have several soul mates. They're usually not romantic, and each one comes into our lives and changes it completely. Sometimes they only stay in our lives for a short time, and sometimes they stay in our lives forever. But they make you see the world in a different way, and I know for a fact, that these individuals will change the lives and become soul mates with so many other people.

This is Vincent. He’s from Nigeria and going to Liberia.

Why is he so great? Vincent brings the sunshine to the room. He asks me at least 3 times a day, “How are you doing?” with the biggest grin on his face. And he’s always trying to learn. Several of our sessions are long and about serious topics, but after sitting next to Vincent, my mood is always lifted. His smile never fades, and he tries to relate the new information he’s learned to himself and others around him. It’s not uncommon to hear, “In my culture, we do this. What does your culture do?”

It was only 3 days after meeting me that Vincent would always greet me every morning with a much appreciated hug. Not only is he kind, but Vincent has taught me to be humble and ask questions. He has taught me to embrace each person that comes across my path, and to “let love lead” wherever I go. 

This is Ben. He’s from Tennessee and going to El Salvador.

Ben is the kind of person I always have strived to be. I’m usually the loudest one at the table, but Ben sits back, listens, and notices. He’s always the first to say, “I think we should let ______ have a turn to speak.” Not only does he provide space for others, but he is one of the most selfless people I have ever met.

We have a Fellow in our program that is fluent in Spanish but is still working on her English. Ben has been working with her for the last couple of weeks to improve her English and translate when needed. While any bilingual person can translate, Ben creates a safe space. Trying to learn Spanish myself, I often ask Ben questions, and he answers so kindly without coming from a place of superiority. I'm not afraid to make mistakes, and he’s actually created a comfortable environment where I can attempt to speak my limited Spanish and our other Fellow can work on her English. If you’ve ever learned a second language before, you know that it’s not easy to do this. Learning a second language takes a lot of vulnerability, and Ben has set up a space where two people can not only be willing to make mistakes, but also feel connected to one another, even while speaking different languages.

This is Glory. She’s from South Korea and going to Greece.

When I first met Glory I had just arrived in Phnom Penh, and she was asking me several questions about where I was from, where I was going, how excited I was, and what I was going to be doing. Glory is an attentive listener and has the ability to make every person she meets laugh and feel good about themselves.

I’m in awe of Glory, not only because she’s kind and smart, but because she left her home to live in the United States for 4 years while obtaining her degree at university. I admire people that have the courage to turn their world upside down. I honestly question whether or not Glory has the ability to be mad or upset because I’ve only seen her be happy and make others happy. She embodies what it means to live a full life, and I hope I can inspire people the way she has inspired me.

This is Elma. She’s from Mexico and going to Germany.

There are so many things I would like to say about Elma, but I don’t have the time or the proper vocabulary. Elma is mi hermana mexicana, and I know she’ll be in my life for many, many years. Elma is unapologetically herself, and is always telling me how important it is to love myself and others. She also yells, “I love Mexico!” every 15 minutes, which makes me love her even more.

Even when she’s not around, I’m thinking, “Dang, Elma should be here”, and then she usually pops around the corner yelling at me: “¡Mi niña!” Elma has one of the biggest hearts. She loves deeply and she loves everyone. I hope I can use what I’ve learned from Elma these next two years so that I can help others like Elma has helped me.  



All of these individuals have unique stories and gigantic hearts. It's not my place to tell their personal stories, but I want to share what they have done for me and mine. 

Take the time to find the soul mates in your life. Learn from them, and share with others what they have given you.