Last day in the States

This is it.

My regular contact with those of you in the United States is going to get more sporadic. I leave for Ecuador tomorrow. I have two flights, the first out of Boston to Miami, the second from Miami to Guayaquil, my home for the next year. Some of you may be wondering how I spent my last day. It was all such a blur I don't know if I can even recall it. We had a session about teaching all day, ultimate frisbee, 2 CVS trips, pasta for dinner, a birthday celebration (Happy Birthday Jenn!), an itinerary and logistics quick session, and now I'm sitting here on this computer typing up the last thing I'm going to be typing in the US for a while. What a weird feeling.

I checked out of this orientation in the afternoon. I can't remember what was said, probably gems and jewels of knowledge I need to know for my time down there. The relevance of each presentation was incredible, but I don't know what it will be like. I don't know what it will be like trying to remember everything I've learned here when an Ecuadorian child tells me about his familial relationships. I don't know if I'll remember everything I've learned here having my first fight with community members. I don't know if I'll remember everything I've learned here when I get into difficult situations, when the culture shock sets in, when I have to meet new neighbors or protect myself from other people around the neighborhood.

We have a prayer tonight that's going to commission my community and I as we go off into our adventure. I don't know when I'll see all of the JVs again. Now the uncertainty hits. We're being whisked away in an airplane to a place I don't know about and all I can do is write in this blog and hope that tomorrow goes off without a hitch, I arrive at Guayaquil and we are welcomed with grand smiles and hugs. How did it get to this point again?

This is crazy. My life has taken me to the precipice of an adventure I never thought I would undertake. My heart has lead me here because I followed it as a wise woman told me to do once. This is where my heart has taken me. ConfusionangstexcitmentoverjoyedwhatintheworlddoIdonowohmygodwheredoIgofromhere?

The only place I need to go. I have never felt more peace than at this moment. I promise you, in the States, that I will be in touch as much as I can. Thank you for your constant support.

To change a slightly cliche phrase and make it my sign off line:

From Ecuador, with Love.

Keeping Quiet

Yesterday's sessions were productive. First, we talked about a process called Concientization (spelling?), which was thought up by Paolo Feire (spelling?). It talks about a certain way to meet oppressed people in a constructive way that gives them dignity using things including but not limited to dialogue and no neutrality. Then we talked about the realities of crossing cultures, where we were told that we will all experience culture shock, whether we like it or not. This is an interesting thing to face: knowing that you're going to face something before you have to face it, knowing that, no matter how much one can prepare, it won't do anything because this something will still happen either way. It's good we live in community, because this probably would be a lot harder if one were to be living alone. Finally, we listened to a panel of about seven other former volunteers who gave us a somewhat candid look at volunteer life from the field. They told us their stories and talked to us after our evening prayer, but I want to focus on our evening prayer.

We were given a sheet of poetry last night for our evening prayer, and the one poem we used was one of the most profound things I've ever read. Pablo Neruda was writing from a Chileno perspective, but his insights cross cultures and really resonated with me. The last stanza of the poem really spoke to me, and I wanted to share it with everyone. I must say I did not live the life of a volunteer for the last six weeks before I came here. I'll be honest about that. I very much enjoyed my time with all of my friends, Christine, and my family, but reading this poem made me realize how sometimes it is necessary just to stop. We cannot live life without reflecting on it, or else we will never understand the secrets life has for us.

"Keeping Quiet"

Now we will count to twelve
and we will all keep still.

This one time upon the earth,
let's not speak any language,
let's stop for one second,
and not move our arms so much.

It would be a delicious moment,
without hurry, without locomotives,
all of us would be together
in a sudden uneasiness.

The fishermen in the cold sea
would do no harm to the whales
and the peasant gathering salt
would look at his torn hands.

Those who prepare green wars,
wars of gas, wars of fire,
victories without survivors,
would put on clean clothing
and would walk alongside their brothers
in the shade, without doing a thing.

What I want shouldn't be confused with final inactivity:
life alone is what matters,
I want nothing to do with death.

If we weren't unanimous
about keeping our lives so much in motion,

if we could do nothing for once,
perhaps a great silence would
interrupt this sadness,
this never understanding ourselves
and threatening ourselves with death,
perhaps the earth is teaching us
when everything seems to be dead
and then everything is alive.

Now I will count to twelve
and you keep quiet and I'll go.

Adjustment Disorders

Today has been a productive day. We had a talk in the morning regarding Catholic Social Teaching, went over some things concerning Safety and Security, and had an impromptu lunch with a former RdC volunteer named Mike. These three events were really great and have helped me get into the spirit of RdC more this orientation, much like many of the other talks and programs the orientation team has put together.

This afternoon's talk, though, was very grounded and touched me in an interesting way. Fr. Jack Butler (I think his first name was Jack...) gave a fantastic talk on the broad topic of Mental Health while away on this trip. He went over core things that we needed to keep in mind (exercise, sleep, nutrition and being open), made sure we understood that building community is different than being best friend with everyone that one lives with, and to make sure to look out for addictive personalities. I listened to this talk with rapt attention. I loved his style of talking, very plain, didn't pull any punches. He wanted us to understand the gravity of the things that could happen while away in a different country. It made me wonder.

How much do I really know about myself? How much can I really know about myself, and with what I do know about myself, how well do I know those parts? Why did I decide to do RdC in the first place? Have I already divulged too much information about myself to my community-mates already? All of these things circle my mind as I type this. It's a difficult thing to know when one has gone too far and one has not gone far enough in terms of sharing what one feels. Communication is a must and love has to permeate everything. The one thing I'll remember most about the talk is that we have to make sure to meet people where they're at and help them understand where we are as well.

I guess my fear is that I'm not really sure where I'm at right now. This orientation has been a sort of "limbo" feeling for me. I'm excited to leave, but I'm enjoying my stay at BC immensely. My mind is in Monte Sinai and right now. I'm confused as to focus on my time here or to begin to refocus on the new community I'm about to enter into. It's difficult to know that balance right now I guess. I think it'll take time and a lot of patience. I suppose in one week I won't have a choice. I'll be in Monte Sinai and then everything will sync up.

The further I delve into orientation, though, the more I feel like I am becoming more conscious of the things to help me prepare for this adventure. The journey continues.

The Jumpoff

Orientation has begun. Yesterday was painful. I left my dad and his wife and Christine...leaving Christine was probably one of the hardest things to do. I felt as if something was being pried away from my heart...Christ said it would be challenging. Christ said I would need to give up everything to follow Him. I suppose he didn't expect anyone not to feel this hurt or pain when they took up their cross. But I know my parents and Christine have similar crosses to bear. It's good to know that. I went to sleep early last night because of the emotionality of the evening. It was difficult to get into last night's festivities and learning everybody's name because my head and heart were elsewhere.

Today, on the other hand, was awesome. I finally got to see some pictures of the community I'll be living in and learned more about the mission, vision and Way of Life of RdC. I was able to bond with some of the people in my group, especially my in country community in Monte Sinai. Jenn, Marita, Becky and Aaron are awesome people, and I'm so excited to live with them. Talking with the other volunteers working with RdC has been awesome too. We all seem like we have similar expectations and mindsets entering this year, and I hope that we all can converge on our communal living and come together.

I have eight days left in the United States. What a weird feeling of excitement, anxiousness and hope. Hopefully Christine will come online so I can chat with her. Thank God for the people here because they are so supportive of everyone else. Looks like community life is beginning already.

Packing, Part Two: All that I can't keep

I'm sitting at a desktop computer at the Bedford Plaza Hotel in Bedford, MA. Christine is sitting next to me, kissing me on the arm. My dad and his wife, Anastazya, are walking out of the hotel to make a phone call to my Aunt, who is staying near our hotel. We may go see her tonight. It's been a great past few days, but for the next week or so, I will not have this much free time. Orientation should clear up some things, but it should also give me some insight into what exactly my year will be like.

I left my cell phone and laptop at home. I'm leaving my Ipod with my dad. I'm leaving behind all of my friends and family and Christine. It's going to be really difficult. It has been really difficult. But today I also just realized what I am going to have down there: my community of volunteers, new faces, new challenges, and new experiences. These are the things I'm going to have while in Ecuador, and they will be mysterious but necessary.

Tomorrow will be full of tears, but I know that I'll make it. All that I can't keep are things that I hope I will find when I return. Sometimes you have to let things go before they become even bigger parts of your life.

A message from Christine:

Christine is awesome. She rocks my world. She is coming to visit in 4 months and I'm counting down the days already. PS-she's gorgeous. PPS-she had NOTHING to do with writing this section.

Packing, Part One: The Beginning

I'm sitting in my computer chair drinking chocolate milk. I have my fan going and my windows open. I'm typing on my Macbook, listening to the sound of my washer tumble dry my pairs of jeans and khakis. A blue flashlight, small black photo album, blue blanket, and two suit cases are still, laying on my floor in different places. My bed is unmade, and I know I've been on this computer for entirely too long. I'm getting my fingerprints done today, getting my third (and final) rabies shot tomorrow, taking the GREs on thursday, and partying it up with my friends on friday. Saturday will be bittersweet, spending it with family and Christine (my girlfriend of three years). Why all of this description, a reader may think. This seems a bit superfluous. Why doesn't he just get to the point?

I've still got a few days here in the States. I want to take everything in so that when I'm gone I can have memories. It's tough packing away life into a green duffle bag and a black carry-on. I've packed all of my t-shirts and collard shirts, collected all of my boxers and washed all of my pants. Everything takes time, but this point really came up fast. How did I get here, graduated and on the verge of leaving my life I've known for so long for a year?

Now, don't get me wrong. I am excited as all get up for this. I remember getting the call from Elyse (one of my bosses), when she told me that they were going to offer me a position with them. I felt in my mind like I had reached the pinnacle of my academic and extra-curricular achievements. I couldn't contain myself: I pumped my fist on the phone while mouthing "I got the position!" to my boss Beth. I ran out of Campus Ministry and called my dad, then Christine. I think I have found what I am meant to do for the next year.

It's just tough realizing what I have to leave behind to pursue what I want to do.