Writer's block

Clearly I have not been very good these past few months at writing things of importance. Writing has become a real lackluster attempt at communicating my thoughts and ideas, probably cause I've had few of either to write about. That being said, it makes me sad that I don't even want to reread the stuff I've written lately. Its objective and drawn out and lacks feeling. So what should I write about?

I could write about leaving I suppose. My time left pales in the amount of time I have spent here. In one month, I will be in another country, most likely Colombia if all goes according to plan. I will have left my crappy couch bed, my plastic kitchen set, some moldy clothes, my mountain view and a life I have fully participated in designing for the last 2 years. There's not much more to write about, right?

And why don’t I have emotions? Well I do, or else I wouldn’t have cried in front of 50+ people at our opening day event for our green classroom. But why every time I look up and see blue sky behind misty mountain rain clouds, do I feel like I can take a deep breathe? And why is it that every flair up of nostalgic reflection is met with a wall of fire extinguishers that leave the notion soggy and unappealing? 

Part of it is probably that I am in full blown logistics mode, every activity from now until November 22 is still up in the air, including how I’m going to get Maggie home to my mom. Logistics mode is dangerous. It means that I will stay busy until the moment I planned not to be and then reflection mode, with all it’s pent up potential energy floods and overwhelms me, and I end up a wrung out and exhausted.

Part of it is probably because while there were plenty of hours I spent doing nothing of real significance, I don’t regret the hours I spent stressed out about actually doing things. I’ve tried and failed and tried again a different way a few months later with different people, which still often failed. I set out with some big ideas in the beginning; murals, camps, park renovation or something infrastructural...to name a few. And to my surprise and delight, my counterparts and I got pretty far on a few of those goals. But the beauty in the projects is that they started as great ways to foster youth empowerment and had potential for sustainability. And now, as I write up my laundry list of acronym reports, the only thing I really care about is the relationships that came out of the projects. They where just the excuse in order to better get to know the people I worked with; the students, the moms, the teachers and the staff. Without the projects I wouldn't get multiple warm hugs from girls asking if I can take them to the states in my suitcase, or a gift from a young boy who's mom tells me he's genuinely sad I'm leaving. These relationships are priceless and the most important thing I can take with me. It’s hard to be sad when I feel I’ve made it to where I ultimately wanted to be; I am part of this community, and they are part of me. 

This is home to me. It’s my second home, and by home I mean the place I find my self. Even when I’m not, I’m learning something. By now it’s second nature to assume I’m detrás el palo, ignorant of how things work around here. It was a struggle for the first year or so to know I hadn't found my niche. I wasn't good at anything, and even speaking the appropriate language was a struggle. I can't say now I'm any better, but it’s the only thing I know. I’ve been through many changes in my life and new beginnings. This experience has taken me apart like a puzzle, away from everything comfortable, and put me back together piece by piece; adding new pieces and not so subtly, leaving more room to grow than I ever thought I was capable of. With the feared “unknown” as my constant companion, I can finally accept and appreciate the patience it takes to not worry about what will be and I can almost feel excited to see how it will all turn out.
I guess writing about why I can't write is better than nothing at all.

Ordinary hours

June 10, 2015

Ever want to know what goes on in the mind of a Peace Corps volunteer? Lots of radio silence for the most part, only to be interrupted by self realizations and loud thunderous frustration and chaos. At least that’s what happens in my head. Days keep flying by and so much of what happens here feels small. So when a friend says, Marlee take a step back…look at the big picture, it takes a minute or a whole day to refocus. Every day begins and ends and starts again with the sun. On the mornings I have to get up early and take mags out, I can see the sunrise over the mountains from my host moms porch. It’s always beautiful, and on days after day long rains, the sky is especially stunning. I struggle to keep a hold of that peace that comes with eyes full of the days light and lungs full of fresh clean air, when the little stresses chip away at the solitude it creates every day. Thankfully, having Maggie in my life forces me outside more for better and worse ( who really wants to go outside in the rain, not even Maggie). But still the mountain of to-do’s and weekly responsibilities pile up and free time is spent cleaning, making cookie dough 100 different ways or melting into the couch watching the omnipresent companion, Netflix. I have to be honest, I thought I’d read more and start growing my own tea (or at least keeping some type of plant alive), I thought I’d do yoga more, reach out to friends and family more. But turns out life here is like life anywhere else, routines and responsibilities and some how time slips by, ordinary hours turn into unremarkable days and then 2^nd graders are 4^th graders and I’m a month away from my third consecutive birthday in this country.

Days like today make me appreciate it all though. Today my big picture was painted by my friends, who reminded me that while we all have great expectations, nothing, nowhere and never turns out exactly how we plan, but if you try hard, it still turns out. Today started with a budget crisis and a dream being crushed. The budget crisis was partially an oversight on my end and partially we didn’t get the same amount we had proposed in our grant ( didn’t catch that part til later today). The dream being crushed was the one where I use this green classroom project with individual classroom projects as a foundation for a thesis, which despite having come up with and planned the model for the last 9 months, I only have less than 4 to make it sustainable, which, if going to grad school taught me anything, its that it won't happen in real life.

Still though, as I went to talk to Miriam about something mundane, my crisis came out instead. But she let me cry through my dream crushing, gave me an exceptional hug and parted with a piece of her coveted chocolate. Thinking of it later made me smile, I will miss having Miriam around, to know what I’m trying to say, finish my sentences and care about me like she does, she’s pretty wonderful. And as luck would have it, my friends were also very supportive. They talked me down from panic mode to damn near full acceptance. My budget crisis has options, sucky but not a dead end. And my project, while hoping to see it through more, I may only get to plant the seed (even Miriam says so) and it’s up to everyone else to do with it what they will. I have, however, dared to dream big and accomplished a lot with my time here. The rain water tank will hopefully save the school money on water bills each year which can then be used for other things, and at very least the compost pile will serve as a permanent project option for future generations of little kiddies. Everything else is indeed a small ripple in a big pond and that’s really ok.

It’s a humbling job, being a volunteer. I’ve never not left a volunteer position without having experienced varying levels of disappointment and had something seemingly small turn everything around for me. A phone call, piece of chocolate, origami frogs, some kid telling me to wait while going to buy another bag of chips just to give me the toy inside on his birthday, someone saying how much I must miss my family, a hug, so many hugs; the underappreciated cure for sadness. These are the little gifts I will take with me and what make this place so special to me, the people, my friends, other volunteers, my work, adventures. All the little things add up and soon little ripples turn into deep waves.