A week and some odd minutes ago, I was landing at Indianapolis International Airport, walking through the same entrance terminal to terminal B that I walked through 6 months previously, that time ‘departures’ this time ‘arrivals’.
Since then I have filled my days with pots and pots of coffee, chunky sweaters and wool socks, naturally waking up to the sun rising through the trees out my window as I am cozied in a bed piled with blankets, folk music and quiet, chilly walks through the woods followed by steaming mugs of ginger tea, baking cookies and bread and cakes, recipe hunting and humorous cooking failures, splurges on poetry books and worn journals travelling with me through it all, the general comforts of cozy, warm home and trying, trying to summarize 6 months into one polished and cohesive piece of writing.
After many failed attempts to say “Senegal was ____________” and “at the end of it all, I feel ___________”, I’ve determined I can’t summarize or wrap up these past six months into a neatly-packaged conclusion. Six months is a long time and I find I have no resounding sentiments, negative or positive, toward my experience.
Was it always wonderful? No. Was it always horrible? No. Was it easy? No. Was it just one big struggle? No. Was it anything as I had expected, planned for, was ready for? No.
Did I learn? Yes. Did I grow? Yes. Am I grateful? Extraordinarily. Was it a good experience? Absolutely.
And because of all of this, my transition away from Senegal and toward the United States, including an interlude of pure and wonderful adventure and exploration in Europe, was scattered, cloudy, not all negative and not all positive, and inconclusive. But this uncertainty, this gray area of emotion, this stumbling ground of saying goodbye, of running through the English countryside, of returning home, in its messiness, made way for an honesty and a clarity, a straight-up realness to my writing and reflections throughout the past few weeks as I left Senegal, revitalized my soul through travel, and warmed my spirit surrounded in home.
Transitioning (in a collection of words, both mine and of others):
6 February 2014
If I never see you again
I will always carry you
inside
outside
on my fingertips
and at brain edges
and in centers
centers
of what I am of
what remains
– charles bukowski
—————–
9 February 2014
Everything we are looking for
is right here
in the present moment.
– thich nhat hanh
Words I needed to hear. This is it, this is the day in front of you. The plane doesn’t leave for 10 days, you are here, the only change you can make is how you relate to it. So I can choose to spend this time wishing it away, getting bogged down in every challenge, overthink every moment and spend more minutes complaining than reflecting or I can just choose to say: this is it, these are the 10 days in front of me, they aren’t going anywhere so just embrace them and rise above the nitpicky because they may be challenging and may not be perfect and may require taking deep breathes, but they are what exists. And the only thing that can be changed is how you relate to them.
And don’t be afraid of or close yourself off to moments of good or memories that could be created in these next 10 days. Be open to the possibility that Senegal still has things to give or teach you.
These are your last 10 days here. Choose to look around in gratitude, in wholeness and joy, choose to take it all in as a part of it these are your last 10 days here; choose to embrace, rise, and say thank you because what good is there in leaving in a fight?
—————–
10 February 2014
It’s okay to be ready. It’s okay to acknowledge that this place is frustrating and difficult and you’re tired. It’s okay to look out and say “you know, Senegal, I didn’t fall in love with you.”
It’s also okay to lean into those moments when you stumble upon your Papa on the roof and with pride he points out the landmarks of this city you’ve come to know, tells you his construction plans and how he wants his house to be full, giggles about his desire to be the tallest house in the neighborhood and says “maybe when you come back” and “you never know” and “it’s not the end of the world yet.” And it’s okay to gaze out at the sun and wonder if you’ll miss the noise and feel a pang for upcoming goodbyes.
All this just means it’s real, means I’m human, means I’m allowing myself to feel it all and let it be because regardless, I’ll be on a plane on the 19th. And it’s wonderfully freeing and calming to just give myself the liberty to feel it all.
Breathe. This is it. Stay here. Live it. Soon it will be gone, fighting or embracing, so stay. Live it.
—————-
12 February 2014
I need
only to stand
wherever I am
to be
blessed.
– mary oliver
Be here. Feel the sun on your face and look out at its beaming. Listen to the life around you and think how very far you’ve come. Breathe gratitude, in one week you’ll be saying goodbye and think of how you’ve grown.
I sit here with tears at the corners of my eyes, not quite knowing why they’re coming, but just letting them fall and thinking I’m proud of where I am right now, I’m proud of who this place has helped me become.
—————-
18 February 2014
So here it is. The time is now. Goodbye has arrived. And suddenly I’m so very ‘not ready’. I am and I am not.
I am ready to not have to brace myself with walls, fayda, and exhausting determination every time I leave the house. I am not ready to leave the feeling of full body, soul, spirit, mind, heart strength I have gained here. I am ready to not be harassed, yelled at, made fun of, observed at all times and by anyone who so desires. I am not ready to leave behind what I have learned of perseverance, patience, open-mindedness, character, and self-compassion.
I am ready and I am not.
——————–
20 February 2014
And just like that, it’s over. Except it isn’t, really. The world is small and we are family now.
I have never cried quite so many tear in such a way. I have never felt so surrounded – physically, mentally, spiritually, emotionally, by time and itinerary – by family in such a way. I have never felt such overwhelming, heart-bounding gratitude in such a way. I have never been so okay with feeling it all, inside and out, and letting it be.
I am someone better today than when I was last in this airport. And I have Senegal – the wonderful, the challenging, the disheartening, the beautiful, the lively, the frustrating, the adventurous, the daily – to thank for that.
And the tears were for it all, for the sudden reality of a chapter ending, a chapter beginning, and of the beauty and hardship and profound growth of it all.
Jërejëf, Senegal.
—————-
23 February 2014
Every day we are engaged
in a miracle
we don’t even recognize.
– thich nhat hanh
Engaged, not observing. Engaged.
Here. Not anywhere else, here.
There is so much beauty all around – in the trees, in the grasses, in the picket fences and rolling hills, in the very fact that I am I n this warm, love-filled home with that wonderful familiar kindness of family. There is so much beauty all around; the only way in which I can attempt to take it all in is just to be still for a minute.
This is where I am right now. Even that is such a wonderful miracle. Embrace. Engage. Look around and see the miracles and say ‘thank you.’
——————-
24 February 2014
It’s such a wonderful feeling of warmth and home that I’m no seeing I have all around the world. And so you say thank you and you let yourself feel the unease and sadness of goodbyes and unknown reunions say OK. See the beauty in this, see how you went to Senegal, expecting almost nothing but definitely not this, not finding myself comfortably sitting in a home in the English countryside with your basic British brother variety of family upstairs. See how so much of this family exists for you throughout the world.
So embrace these additions to your path and focus on the good of it. Because there is so, so much good.
——————–
26 February 2014
It truly is a beautiful world.
So much of it is like those stones, rough and unpolished, hardened and nicked… and then full of gleaming, colorful light, tear-rendering ‘just beautiful’ type of love-ly.
——————–
27 February 2014
These past 8 days have meant more than I ever could have expected. They healed me, bettered me, enlivened me.
This has been such a week of life. Of wandering, exploration, discovery, stumbling upon, opening eyes, taking chances and saying ‘yes’, pushing through, thinking and reflecting, opening one’s eyes and self to possibility, being willing to be dazzled.
Running through fields, chasing sheep, climbing trees, skipping, trespassing, mud jumping, walking and walking and walking, gazing at the sun, feeling the sun on my skin – this is being full, being alive.
I continue to journey so far, to grow and to learn so much. I continue to thirst for discovery, adventure, connection.
This life is messy and difficult and also so damn miraculous and gorgeous. These past six months, have taught me how to live it. And how to just embrace and say ‘thank you’ every single step of the way.
—————–
2 March 2014
Goodbye to the last six months of my life. Goodbye to these six months of adventure and growth and laughter and learning. But not really. This will always be with me.
And I’m sad it’s over. I truly, fully am. But I’m getting on this plane back to soil that feels both familiar and foreign and I’m simply choosing to say thank you and to continue to be willing to be dazzled.
——————-
3 March 2014
And then suddenly I’m here. It’s March and there is snow on the ground and I’m making pots of coffee and eating my favorite breakfast and enjoying the slowness of morning wrapped in a blanket and it’s like everything and nothing have changed all at once.
———————
4 March 2014
Enlightenment is not separate
from washing the dishes
or growing lettuce.
– thich nhat hanh
There’s no need to feel like it’s over, like the growth and learning have stopped just because the ‘adventure’ has. It’s time to start thinking of this as part of the adventure, too.
callie daniels-howell 