What Flying Feels Like

Where am I now? I'm ecstatic. Sometimes I stop myself and am struck dumb by the reality of what I'm going to be doing soon and where I will be going--and I still can't even fully fathom that "reality." It's incredible. I hear a song that played before I left and I remember where I was at that time (just barely out of a major leap of faith) and then where I am now (flying head over heels on that same wind of faith, higher, stronger, and faster than ever), and I have to hold back joyous tears, so-grateful-that-I-can't-believe-it tears.

I've never been so confident, motivated, or optimistic. I've never been so impressed with other people's creative lawns, vegetarian restaurants, travel experiences, or diligent work outs. I've never cared so much about education...or about getting an education.

Where else am I? I'm back to pre-Moldova weight, almost to pre-first-marathon weight, and starting my last YMCA week before my membership expires. I'm trying to remember how to work out without a gym. I'm going to enjoy this calm week before my (how many times have I said this?) last week of coaching gymnastics. I'm finally relaxed enough to admit that I was avoiding coffee dates and lunch dates because I was nickel-and-dimed for about two months.

And here I am again, closing my eyes, remembering how young I am and grateful that I reminded myself (yet again) to slow down. Laughing that I still tend to forget it. "One year at a time," Grandma said when I told her I wasn't going straight to the PhD. "It's better that way." Oh yes it is! I realized today that I will have graduated from college, run two marathons and one half, served two years with the Peace Corps, and completed my masters degree ALL BEFORE TURNING 25!!!! And WHY ON EARTH do I still have the habit of always thinking about what to cram in next?

Meditation has helped limit that craziness a bit, but I still get caught up, especially now when I feel like my eyes are open to everything.

And this is going to be a full-throttle summer, heading straight into a full-speed academic year. So I will prepare for the full span as much as possible so that I can enjoy one while it is happening instead of thinking about what I need to do for the next.

Side note: My readjustment to America seems perfectly normal now...except when I still find myself COMPLETELY psycho in Trader Joe's. "Do you want to find a treat, Sammy?" Michael asked, oh-so-kindly. "But I want everything!" I said. "How about one healthy little treat?" he suggested. "Ok," I smiled as if I was getting away with theft. I couldn't focus on my brother (or the task at hand, for that matter) because my eyes couldn't stop spinning around, trying to take in every new type of granola, every spice, every type of honey!

Oh and then there's the shyness, the not wanting to drive somewhere that requires looking for parking, and the not wanting to go to parties by myself. "Samantha, you just spent two years in Moldova; you can go to a party by yourself!!!" I tell myself. (Of course there's the necessary "Sam, it's really easy," reassurance from Kimmy that helped get me out the door, too!) It usually works and I have had a great time, been recognized by people I swore had forgotten me, made a new friend, and found the world's best parking spot!

And now the same logic applies to the "It's so cold in Boston" conversation. Man, I spent two insulation-less, heat-by-coal winters in Moldova...I CAN DO ANYTHING!

Catfish and Cactus on my California Weekend

As a family, we had a very over-the-top/academic/California weekend:

1. Brother flew in (oh, just for the weekend) from his business trip (in Vegas, of course);
2. Ate catfish, salmon, practically an entire top sirloin, and a tasty green cake;
3. Sunbathed;
4. Brother took a practice GMAT;
5. Parents had a study date: Dad went to school to research his paper and Mom hung out at the university because she could read there, too--in the sunshine, of course;
6. Went in the jacuzzi;
7. Discussed Dad's "history of history" paper;
8. Saw an old friend;
9. Said goodbye to a good friend and a much-closer-to-empty house;
10. Helped Dad dig holes for a cactus garden.

Responding to the Universal Question

Well, maybe it's not the universal question, but it's the one that comes up most frequently with my haven't-seen-in-two-years-or-more-mates. This is in response to the "would you go to Moldova again?" question asked in a comment from the previous entry:

Hi Laquia -

Since I can't link to your profile, I'll respond here. Let me start by thanking you for asking my opinion! I was glad I ended up in Eastern Europe, but if you read my earliest blogs, I DID ask to go someplace else but then "left it up to fate/God/life/everyone that knew better." Some have somehow gotten the impression from my blog that I would have come home, which confuses me because I like to word my blogs carefully. But if that were the case then I actually WOULD have come home. No, it was sad and I was lonely sometimes, but I knew I was getting myself into this for two years and not at one point did I actually even seriously consider leaving early. And, truthfully, that was partly out of curiosity for what would come at the end -- an intuitive blessing, seeing as the most "productive" events did come at the end...but don't they always?

But it was my choice to "go where I was needed," and I have no doubt now that Moldova was the right place for me to be. But that's also my whole outlook on life, God, decisions, and events...but yes, I did FEEL as if it was the right place when I landed and I can REASON now exactly how it worked out in my benefit. "If I hadn't gone to Moldova, I never would have..." and so on. I now have a new understanding (and awareness!) of a whole region I had never really thought of before.

I, too, was in shock when they told me I had been sifted to Eastern Europe, but this was my process and it doesn't work for everyone. I understand intimately that this experience is not for everyone, and, even within the same village, volunteers have entirely different experiences.

So there are a million different ways I can elaborate upon this response, but to keep it short and straight to the "would I do it again?" question: I'm sure glad I did it once.

The Limitless Ocean

And here almost another two months have passed us by and it feels both like only a week has passed and simultaneously a whole lifetime.

This really has been an incredible period for me, these first few months of 2010.  I received my first responses from schools in January and am actually still waiting for the last one.  So it has, needless to say, been a very long and emotional process.  But very exciting.  I wanted an easy choice -- "just one school please" -- and instead got an avalanche of options.  I tried to remember to feel glad to have these options, grateful for the opportunities that were throwing themselves at me, but I continued to feel stressed, saddened to have to let some of these options go.  And with every response my emotions changed a million times over.  So while I'm not going to waste time with the play-by-play, I'll tell you that the predominant lesson was in telling myself to wait "just a little longer" because I knew that it wasn't time to make a decision yet; there were still more factors.

And perhaps it still isn't yet time, but it feels close.  And out of respect for the schools I will likely not be attending, I want to let them know in as timely a manner as possible.  But...wonderfully...I have finally come to this great excitement, this liberation from worrying about the options I felt I am tossing and (almost pure) enthusiasm for the multitude of directions I could go in from here. (More on this later.)

But life, though seeming to revolve around graduate school responses, does not.  And I have filled January, February, and March with an art class that I am so glad to have taken, new avenues in prayer and meditation, a re-inspired joy of teaching/coaching...and dreaming about SEA.

1) The painting class: This was something I told myself I wanted to do while I was still in Moldova.  I wanted to improve. I wanted to learn.  I didn't want my painting to be inhibited by ignorance, but to be propelled by whatever my inner spirit desires.  So I went to an open house at the Los Angeles Academy of Figurative Art, won a small discount in their drawing, and (since I believe that serendipity is inspired) signed up. Although, truth be told, I probably would have signed up anyway.  I was so nervous at first; I had never painted with oils and "drawing with a paintbrush" had only just begun to be even semi-successful. But there is so much concentration involved! I know this seems like a given, but it wore me out.  I kept telling myself that I was taking this class to improve, to learn from it, to get feedback from a (very helpful) teacher...and that I could paint whatever I wanted when I was done.  

And it has been so worth it.  I don't feel totally skilled yet, but I feel optimistic.  I am more aware and excited and eager and feel I have at least crossed a painting threshold.

2) Meditation: I had anteed up my prayer and meditation since summer 2006, and did some more reading while in Peace Corps.  Prayer and patience and trust in the harmony of life's events became a silent constant while gone.  But I knew that I wanted to seek it out.  I wanted, like with painting, to learn from someone.  When I got back, I looked up retreats and classes and all of them seemed either too far or too expensive or too "something," but then I found a group on Meetup.com (which I had signed up for in college to find French-speaking groups I never went to).  The group is all the way in Torrance (anandasouthbay.org) but it has been so perfect and beautiful.  I knew that I was going into more constant meditation practices because I wanted to learn how to listen better, to silence all excess and just LISTEN.  But, again like painting, it takes concentration.  And effort.  And these two parallels completely exhausted me in the beginning.  

Come mid-February, I was so emotionally spent, but I knew I was going in the right direction.  I spent so much time in Moldova in inner-reflection, thinking about who I want to be, and these few months home have been the opportunity to LIVE IT OUT.  And it feels GREAT!!  Now, at least.

3) Coaching Gymnastics:  Being around kindergarteners again was humbling.  It reminded me that I really don't know what I'm doing.  And coming in as the substitute at low-income schools (where the kids don't necessarily want to be there and certainly don't want to compete) was a big challenge.  The driving around stressed me out.  The rush hour traffic stressed me out.  The kindergarteners stressed me out.  And so this became the outlet for the attitude I've gained over these past few years.  Because even through the stress, there are beautiful moments when you just feel...light...and totally at ease and you remember why you LOVE working with kids and why you applied to the schools you applied to and why you want to study what you want to study.  And everything makes sense.  And then by the beginning of March you feel on top of the world and you are rocking the classes again and you are smiling and see the good in each child and are so grateful to have the chance to do this again.

Each of these things affected the others and the culminating result is a Samantha that feels so much more patient and free.  But now I can see the wheels turning again and I can't stop thinking about SEA.  In a little over two months I will be heading to Massachusetts to learn about navigation and oceanography, to prep for a 4-week trip from Honolulu to San Francisco.  I will know where I am going to school.  I will be done with coaching and driving in rush hour.  And I will be standing on a ship looking out into a literally limitless ocean.  And I couldn't think of anything better.

Homecoming and Humble Pie

I told myself that I would continue to write when I got back to America, even if I didn’t update the blog online. Of course I haven’t and I have totally felt the absence.

It has been stressful.

Exciting, but stressful.

My world could go in a million (very good) directions right now and that’s wonderful. These are the moments we pray for: opportunity-filled and limitless.

But what I actually pray for: easy decision-making. When it comes down to it, I don’t ask for opportunity. I have opportunity; I just need help taking advantage of it.

But these great moments of change and life are shadowed by other stresses, and so I haven’t really had the chance to sit and ponder my Moldovan experience. In fact, I find myself trying to avoid thinking about it – for reasons I’m still unsure of.

Perhaps I find it too difficult to focus on what “needs” to be done here when simultaneously thinking of what has already been done there?

I also find myself so overwhelmed with hypothetical situations, constantly reorganizing the matrix of possibilities in my mind. (It is this ever-changing matrix that normally helps keep me calm…it gives me faith that there are a million “right” ways for a situation to work out because everything else can shift accordingly. But here, where I was once again responsible to people...)

I had prepared myself mentally for a lot of the realities I knew I would face in America, and when I first returned I handled them almost effortlessly. But then I went away for Thanksgiving, had an excellent time, and returned to LA only to be met by the memories I had run away from in the first place. Smack. They materialized in the freeway exits that reminded me of events, the restaurants we passed, markets, street names, everything.

And so December and January found me wanting to leave again. But seeing as I have been in California for over two months and haven’t seen all of my dearest friends, I’m not ready yet…but I do need to acknowledge that inkling. When it comes time for graduate school, I will be ready to try out a new city, to explore it on my own terms, to get a feel for its culture, restaurants, people, and for what it has to offer me, too.

Perhaps that’s why I have been so preoccupied thinking about the hypothetical balance between all my varied choices: because I didn’t want to think about anything else.

Arriving in America had me finishing applications, patient as a nun, lighthearted and excited over simple things like green lawns, brick houses, and customer service.

Returning, then, to California, reminded me to slow down a little, that I didn’t need to finish all applications by my birthday, and that a little humility would do me some good (a theme that would reoccur shortly).

So we come to the stress: I was so worried about making the “right” decision in a matter that was not yet mine to direct. And as I’ve said multiple times now: I pray for easy decision-making, for help in listening. And so God gave me a big ol’ helping of humble pie, eliminating one of the “options” by telling me one school was saying “no” to me so I didn’t have to worry about saying “no” to it.

I chuckled, and I felt relief. Great relief. The truth is that not all of my emotion is caused by graduate school issues, but I had merely chosen to focus on those. And this reality (that the cards had not been laid for me yet, that it wasn’t time for me to worry about making a decision, and that it would be clear to me if I stopped worrying so much) helped to minimize my worry about the other issues too.

…What I believe most of all is that there will come a time when I am able to make a choice and if I can listen…truly listen…I will know which way I am supposed to go.

And so now I am learning how to trust that not only in theory, but at the present moment, rather than just in retrospect when I can say “ah, now I see how it has all pieced together.” If, when looking back, you see that there is a harmony, and, when looking forward, we trust that the harmony will prevail, then the only option is to trust each decision, each situation, and each moment right here.

So where does all of this take me? Well right now I am waiting to hear back from 8 more graduate schools. The circular conversation you may have followed brought me right back where I started with a more established interest in programs that range in name from Child Development, Human Development, Educational Psychology, and Interdisciplinary Studies in Development.

I have to constant remind myself that the mannerisms, attitudes, and habits I see around me are the same that were here in LA before I left. America, on the whole, has not changed much since I left. Even though I think I had the same frustrations before leaving (like when people honk at you while you are letting a pedestrian cross) I have to remind myself that I have indeed changed and that as universally correct as I may think I am, the world hasn't necessarily changed with me. (And, then of course, there is always the possibility that I am wrong...but we're not talking about that right now...)