The Unbearable Lightness of Being

I think I need to go back and read 'The Unbearable Lightness of Being,' which I think was probably a bit heavy for me when I read it the summer after freshman year. I enjoyed it then, but I think its "weight" totally escaped me. But lately, as I try to wrap my mind around all that has happened over the past year and attempt to use language to express everything I felt and experienced - either verbally or through my writing - it all seems utterly futile.

In so many ways it is as if nothing has changed since I first left nearly one year ago: Except Me. Things look the same, people act the same, food tastes the same, but me, I've got a new history of events, relationships and emotions that are now entwined with my very being. But what do I have to show for all of this besides a head full of memories and a computer full of digital photos? Experiences are fleeting, emotions are temporary and relationships are inevitably changed when you go from living with a person to monthly email exchanges.

How then do I proceed from here? I want to tell everyone each and every detail of each and every moment of my journey, but as soon as I try I hit a wall. Actually, it's more of a double edged sword: either I'm struck with the feeling that people just don't care, don't want to take the time to learn about the details of each picture, and wouldn't understand anyways, or I'm completely incapable of transforming these memories into language. It seems as if after a year of travel the most I have to show for it besides the pictures is this feeling in the pit of my stomach that I just lived a tremendous dream (or is that just indigestion?).

To you, dear reader, this probably seems utterly somber and depressing, but really it isn't. I know that in a more existential and less tangible sense that this experience was something extraordinary that will undoubtedly shape my future both in terms of what I do with my life and the numerous relationships I have developed around the globe. But the very fact that my experiences were all in foreign lands now makes them seem even more foreign, so much so that I keep saying "last year" in reference to senior year, as if this whole past year really was just some weird dream, after which I woke up to the very same life I was living before I left, but with some eerie feeling that it really did occur.

It is both a blessing and a curse that the Watson Foundation holds us accountable for so little at the end of our fellowship: 5 pages double spaced. Five pages double spaced!! How do I possible capture all that I want to convey in five pages? But even with that problem, how do I even begin to write it all down when at this point it still seems like pure emotion and thus every time I attempt to write I start to cry?

I guess I have to go back to Eliot on this one, who said that words fail, but ultimately, it is all in the trying. So I'll keep blogging, journaling, working towards my book and final report and eventually I'll find something at least close to the right words.

So here I am, in the middle way, having had twenty years—

Twenty years largely wasted, the years of l'entre deux guerres

Trying to use words, and every attempt Is a wholly new start, and a different kind of failure.

Because one has only learnt to get the better of words

For the thing one no longer has to say, or the way in which

One is no longer disposed to say it.

And so each venture Is a new beginning, a raid on the inarticulate

With shabby equipment always deteriorating In the general mess of imprecision of feeling,

Undisciplined squads of emotion. And what there is to conquer

By strength and submission, has already been discovered

Once or twice, or several times, by men whom one cannot hope

To emulate—but there is no competition—

There is only the fight to recover what has been lost

And found and lost again and again: and now, under conditions

That seem unpropitious. But perhaps neither gain nor loss.

For us, there is only the trying. The rest is not our business.

-From "Four Quartets" by TS Eliot

Funny how TS had the same problem with not being able to put into new words what the great writers before him already said, but in dealing with his problem, actually said it so well that his words are what I turn to. No?

(I know...I am an Uber Dork.) cheers.

Home?

Well, I'm home....or am I? What is home? It's a question we discussed on end this past weekend at the Watson conference, but it is one that shall never truly be answered.

One question that was answered, however was, "Is Meola's as good as I've been dreaming about for a year?" The answer, "INDEED." Yes, I missed my loved ones, I missed my stuff, I missed America, but I REALLY missed my ice cream. Mmmmmm, Mint Patty Explosion! (I'm still not sure who the guy is in the picture with me).

Is home where you live? If it is...then do I not have a home as I continue my nomadic lifestyle until I find a job and a place of my own? Or do I have countless homes all over the world where I have temporarily lived, including all of the couches that have already been offered to me since I've been back? Is home still Utica, where I probably haven't spent more than two weeks at

a time in the past three years and where all my stuff from college still awaits for me to unpack it?

If home is indeed "where the heart is," then I suppose my home is just the world itself. This past year, if anything, has reaffirmed my faith in humanity itself. My mom wants me to write a book entitled, "How to Travel the World for a Year and Not Pay for a Single Night's Accomodation." But it's not all that difficult. All you have to do is reach out to the world and the world will reach back. Despite delving into so many varied projects over the course of our journeys - from "finding the perfect beat," to singing protest songs, to playing ice hockey - I realized at the conference that every Watson fellow ultimately had the same experience and came "home" with the conclusion that what we really learned over the past year had little to do with our actual research projects and everything to do with meeting wonderful people, who opened their homes and hearts to us and welcomed us into their communities without hesitation (except perhaps the Danes, who are just a wee bit hesitant at times!).

But now I'm back. The Watson journey is over and the Life Journey is just beginning. What's next? I haven't really got a clue. For now it's crashing on Caitlin's couch yet again until I find gainful employment and a place to live and although I've got many reservations about being back, fearing that life at "home" may seem utterly mundane compared to my fellowship year, I am so excited about having a place to call my own at last - unpacking my suitcase, decorating, sleeping in a BED!, knowing where everything is in the kitchen! As for employment, I've got a few resumes in to various jobs, but it seems like the front-runner is Americorps. I've got this increasing desire (especially after this year) to make whatever I do in life a means of contributing positively to the world. Yes, yes, I know that I can make a positive contribution in whatever field I choose and one can always volunteer and stuff in one's spare time, but I need to do more. Unfortunately, my fellowship year did not, as I had hoped, leave me knowing what I want to do. Rather, it's only left me more confused. I want to be a writer, I want to go to culinary school, I want to travel, I want to do something in the International Relations field. No, they're not all mutually exclusive, but the question is, "what next?" So Americorps should be good because it is a job doing meaningful work without having to do solely volunteer work or travel abroad, it will force me to make a decision when my stint is up, and it will keep me constantly aware of the world I so want to help positively impact.

There is so much more, but I want to post this before I wait any longer and it never goes up (I started it about 2 weeks ago). I shall return, perhaps having a swell new "job" to tell you about. Until then, stay safe, live well and if you want to donate any money to the "Meghan is now jobless and poor now that TJW isn't funding her life anymore Foundation" feel free to shoot me an email.