Haunted Streets

I rarely ran into my past in Ghana. Even Facebook, with its endless possibilities, was avoidable; containable. I could focus. I could assess and improve; I could quantify. And I could do it all with the clarity of a safe distance, which I now understand was a unique opportunity.

I've been home for just over one week and there are so many stories to catch up on, so many faces to see (both the anticipated and the unexpected). Some of them belong to distant paths, ancient things; others walk a faint trail, their paths just emerging. It turns out to be a very large pile to sift through, to organize in my mind, to find a place for in my life - a life I'm only beginning to figure out again.

This is obviously a work in progress, the attempted management of a readjustment they warned me about. Except it's not exactly the kind of culture shock I thought it would be; turns out I can totally handle incredibly high-tech bathrooms, grocery stores (to a degree), and the ability to understand every conversation around me without needing to listen in like a lonely ex-pat creeper. What seems to be the struggle now is re-fitting all of the pieces. Actually, just plain fitting in.

And I guess it sounds silly to admit that my biggest problem is finding room for all of the people interested in catching up, in showing appreciation for the things I've done, even if briefly. I guess it's just the fact that things simultaneously seem to have changed completely and not at all, that in the same week I can go without recognizing a single face to recognizing entirely too many to process. It's apparently no easy feat to step out of your life for three years and walk back in, having had so many unbelievably important, but completely separate experiences. It's a little like waking from a dream.

These are my haunted streets. All ghosts welcome.

xx

My Biggest Fear

Sometimes people disappoint.

They have their reasons, of course. We live in a world shaped by emotional turmoil and uncertainty. It's a reactionary world and it can make us unforgiving, ungrateful, and embittered. It becomes easy to quit people, to build walls around steadily shrinking hearts, and to inflict our pain upon others without discrimination. We forget that people deserve dignity and that kindness isn't a commodity to be bargained for (or an act made with the expectation of return).

Carl Jung said, “Everything that irritates us about others can lead us to an understanding of ourselves.” In other words, every impatience, every painful infliction from the outside, is a mirror offering us an opportunity.

When I consider this quote, I realize that what he’s talking about is empathy – the ability to relate to the pain we encounter, to its origin. Because if we look deep enough, if we can dig down into that pit of compassion we all carry, we can confront our own souls with honesty.

It isn't always easy. Compassion, empathy and patience are all acts of practice. They take time to master; each must be a conscious choice, not only reserved for those closest to us but applied to the briefest of interactions. Only in this can we learn what it means to love unconditionally, to cure the pain we see in the world - a pain once inflicted upon and by us.

As I left Ghana, left my position as a volunteer trained in cultural understanding and mindfulness, I feared that I would somehow lose that; that, in a world where Twitter, Instagram and the instant gratification of Facebook exists, my compassion would fall short of the life I once knew. I wanted to reflect on my time as a volunteer without idolizing the third world or damning the first. I wanted to change problems I saw through my understanding of them, not my disgust. Because, I thought, if I couldn't use my third world experiences in the first world, 'my' world, than I obviously hadn't spent them well ...

The world I see today is seriously lacking in empathy and patience. And if you’re looking to do some good, take a moment to look into a mirror - whether it be a he or a she, a Christian or a Muslim, recklessly angry or smiling like a child watching bubbles float into the sky – forgive them, forget yourself for a minute, and remember that they might actually need your love more than you know (and that giving your love is never a sign of weakness). 

Make the world more beautiful. Make your experiences count.

xx

I Believe In You.

When you stop - when you take a moment to admire the view, to feel the texture of the city, to smell the air and the history and the life teeming around you, to hear the buzz, the heartbeat, the electricity within you - you'll suddenly find, once you've grown used to the silence, once you've allowed yourself to slow your pace, to put your phone down and disconnect, to look up at the picture you're so keen to take, that the world is big. The world is so very big.

I think our generation suffers from a peculiar affliction, the affliction of too many options; too many things to see, too many places to visit, too many social websites to share on (with too many friends to share with). It makes us indecisive, it makes us nervous. Maybe it makes us think we aren't doing enough, cannot possibly ever catch up or succeed or feel satisfied.We consume, we want more, we move at a pace that won't allow us to feel disappointment or regret, nervousness or failure, sadness, fear, listlessness ...

Rome was the most beautiful place in the world, I loved it. And then I loved Greece, and Santorini became the most beautiful place in the world. Both of these things are true - believing one doesn't negate the other - and even if I must remind myself to be mindful, to be present, to watch the sunset I see in front of me, to taste the food I'm eating, to love the people around me no matter who they are, I am determined to live my life, to love my life. I suppose losing people does that to you - reminds you every day of your luck, of your chance to do something wonderful, something unique, something meaningful in the world.

So what will you do? How will you make today count? What beauty will you see? Because the biggest leap is making the choice to jump; it's the hardest part of the day, the only thing that keeps most of us from living our dreams, from taking risks and being proud to fail, from closing our eyes and trusting the judgment, the instinct, of our own two feet.

Just try it; stop and take a moment too see the beauty around you (because I see it in you).

xx

Things I'll Miss in Ghana

    

      1. African exclamations:
The common exclamations of surprise (EY!), dismay (Ohh! Ohohoh!), happiness (Heh heh HEYYYYY!), disappointment (insert clicking noise here), understanding (insert clicking noise here), or agreement (eh-HEH!) are identical everywhere. Which means that I always know the crowd’s mood no matter where I am (or what language I don’t understand).

      2. Eating with my hands. No explanation necessary ...

      3. Random strangers greeting me and immediately asking me to marry them:
Call me crazy, but I’m probably going to miss being immediately popular without any effort. It’s not every day I roll up covered in dirt and find at least three men willing to court me, buy me cattle and marry me immediately …

      4. The love – absolute and enduring love – of taglines.
People in Ghana use them in conversation (Hey, O’broni! It’s nice to be nice!), deck out their cars (No Food for the lazy man), name their stores (God’s time is the best time), name their children (Alex Born-Great), and even tag their taglines (Be Your Best: A Man’s Beer … Be the Best Man). I love it.

      6. Goats.
Particularly grungy city goats that are a little off their hoofed rockers. I love them. I love goat.

      7. Baby Back:
And I’m not talking about junk in the trunk, though having some of that is convenient when you’re trying to attach a nugget to your back with two yards of fabric. Best accessory ever.

       8. F*ck it: Babies.
And the ability to hold, steal and play with them without being on some neighborhood watch list.

      7. Cheap travel:
As inconvenient as a transport system with no schedule can be, it’s a cheap life experience. And what’s not to love about a beat up, rusty old van with no windows and a rope holding its doors together? Exactly: you’re in Africa. Shut up and enjoy the scenery.

      10. Drive-by shopping:
I cannot get over being able to buy whatever I want, anywhere I am, off of someone’s head. It’s ingenious.

      11. Dancing everywhere.  If you know me at all, you know this also needs no explanation.

      12. Being a celebrity.
Sure it can get tiresome being constantly visible, but I’m never lost or alone.

      13. Being able to crash any meeting, party or celebration.
Stumble across a wedding? Here’s a front row seat! Elder’s meeting? Sounds like you guys were looking to hear about family planning! Are you lost? No problem! I'll take you to lunch, first, then we'll find your destination! It's awesome.

      14. Hand washing everything:
I’m not kidding. It’s a great excuse for nice arms and a strong back when there’s no gym in sight.

      15. Carrying things on my head:
It is amazing what some people can carry on their heads. Seriously. I once saw a lady carrying five different sized bowls, filled with charcoal, and stacked into a tower on her head. She just casually walked by. No big deal.

n    16. Clothes piles.
It’s like thrift shopping, but your sifting through piles on the ground. Did I mention I love shopping?

      21. British chocolate everywhere. (British everything everywhere.) 

      22. The amazing sense of fashion:
Ghanaians are impeccable. They know how to keep whites white and clean up like it’s nobody’s business. While I’m stumbling around looking like Raggedy Anne, they constantly look fabulous. 

      23. Making things from other things:
I wish I had a photo album of the amazing recycled toys that children make. Everything is reusable. Ignore the fact that there’s a terrible amount of plastic everywhere and think about the fact that a few old tin cans, a small box and a few nails can make a perfectly sufficient toy car. 

      24. The stars.
The stars in the village were so beautiful they were distracting. I'm definitely going to miss the stars ...

What Ghana Means to Me

Lessons.

Some are learned from study, from the direction and paths of those before us; others are learned by doing, they happen once the books are shelved and feet start moving. What Ghana meant to me is the difference between studying and living. And while my life continues, while my experiences never truly end, I find myself leaving Ghana and starting anew. (If there were ever a time for retrospection, I guess this is it.)

Peace Corps is a tough gig. We join to change the world, to make it a better place, to leave something  behind worthy of remembrance. Once we realize it’s not that easy (or quantifiable), we spend two years chasing lofty, pre-Peace Corps dreams. Nothing is enough, there's always something more to be done, that should be done. It isn't until we're leaving that we realize just how successful we actually were and that maybe we did enough. 

The Peace Corps gave me the opportunity to legitimately change people’s lives. And not in the ‘random acts of kindness’  way, but with purpose and clarity. Whether it be successful projects or personal relationships, the fact that I directly affected positive change in anyone’s life is quite possibly the most amazing, humbling thing I've ever experienced. That kind of responsibility, coupled with that kind of trust, changes a person; it changed me. 

I’m stronger; I learned about sacrifice and hardship. There were days when I wanted to pack it in, settle into a comfortable loneliness and question why I ever became a volunteer in the first place. I found courage. I found adventure and I found pride; in myself, in my intentions, and in the heart I was willing to put into the work I wanted to do. I learned to trust and I learned to forgive when that trust was broken. I learned the difference between empathy and sympathy, the truth behind respecting and loving others as I love myself.

I learned to love myself. I allowed myself to be an inspiration, found the balance between believing in myself and accepting failure without losing that belief. And as I opened my heart I found it easier to accept the people around me. I began to experience the world like a child. I found the root of life and I climbed its tree. I found laughter. I found soul. I experienced an incredible opportunity to live the life I wanted, to experience another culture intimately, to ask questions and discover motivations, to include myself in the conversation and make a tiny, Emma-sized difference in the world. I found a life I could be proud of.

At the close, I'm the kind of happy found in purpose and fulfillment. This means, of course, that I am also forever doomed. It’s like an itch that can’t be scratched - a nagging need for movement and adventure; a need for the satisfaction found out there in the world. I found my passion. I’m flexible and I’m resilient and I love. The Peace Corps taught me to learn; Ghana taught me to be happy.

Who I am today is grateful. I met the most amazing people and earned the privilege to call them friends. I found my voice, I found my vision and I gained much more than I gave. All of these things will always be with me, permanently inked on muscle and tendon and vein, and I wouldn't change it for the world.

Ayekoo, Ghana. We've done well.
xx 

A Life Worth Living

I only have three weeks until I'm no longer a Peace Corps Volunteer. I'd like to let that sink in for a minute.

(insert minute here)

Understanding, of course, that I'll always 'be' a Peace Corps Volunteer, this realization - captured in one, simple sentence above - carries at least a dozen different emotions; and though I'm not one for abrupt endings, I'm pretty sure a lot of things are about to change abruptly.

My way of coping (read: ignoring) is to obsessively plan the details of my next travels and, like an excited child, I find it hard to sit still for very long. At any given moment I'm prone to random, public outbursts of excitement which include, but aren't limited to, the type of dancing I usually keep to myself and a wistful smile, put on my face by wine sipping, obviously touristy daydreams. It's not that I'm ready to leave Ghana behind, but I'm excited to continue my adventure.

Ghana is the home of over 70 different languages and at least as many different cultural practices and beliefs. While I admit that this became normal for me, I recognize that Ghana offered me over three years of unique daily experiences. It's why, even at its most boring, my time spent here was worth dozens of blogs, 36 paged letters, and a ridiculous amount of photos. With a new adventure at my fingertips (and each jump of my heart bringing it closer to my throat) I think I may have found the secret to a life well lived. A life well-lived is one spent in exploration.

What I think most people don't realize is that a life spent in exploration can be spent anywhere. Being in the Peace Corps simply made the adventures, the diversity, more obvious. I felt obligated to experience the world around me. It was my duty to share those experiences simply because I was having them. It was part gratitude, part curiosity. I appreciated my life here because it was unique and it came from a completely different perspective, but who's to say that needs to stop?

Traveling to Europe is obviously exciting; it's not every day I get to run my hands along terribly dirty, terribly ancient buildings, but (along with all of the other things I managed to find in Ghana) I found that I've rediscovered my curiosity. Too many people forget, as they get older, as the bills pile up, as life gets more complicated, that the world is interactive. It's meant to be enjoyed. As three years slipped past me, I realized that it's not enough to survive each day; we must engage in the world around us, appreciate our capacity for helping and learning and loving, find something exciting about its smallest detail.

Before I moved to Ghana I was in love the idea of traveling, but it was still an idea; I was determined to become a citizen of the world, an active member, an avid explorer, an ever-lover. Somewhere along the way I succeeded. Maybe I'm not a perfect citizen - there are days when I ignore the world, cuddle up with a good book and fall in-love with a fictional universe - but I'm here. I'm here and I'm committed. I've put a ring on it - a metaphorical ring in the form of tiny, plane-shaped carbon footprints that, I hope, will lead me anywhere. Yep, I said it: anywhere.

You see, it doesn't matter where I end up as long as I'm doing something I love and actively exploring what the world has to offer (which happens to be something I love). When I joined the Peace Corps I took a giant leap into a life that offered something new every day. What I realized was that grand gestures weren't necessary; every moment anywhere has something new and exciting to offer.

Shift your focus. Explore and stay curious.
A life well-lived is as simple as that.
xx

What the Peace Corps Taught Me about Myself

The first thing the Peace Corps taught me about myself was that we were strangers, acquaintances really.  My heart and imagination, my resilience and motivations, my capabilities and my limits – everything I thought I knew about myself – were slowly illuminated. Like the moon arching its way across a darkened sky, I changed constantly.

Until I moved to Africa I hadn't spent very much time alone. I’d spent time with myself, of course, but always within the context of a culture I knew and understood - a world I belonged to even when I rebelled against it. In the Peace Corps I became a true outsider, a player to be watched with curiosity, humor and, sometimes, distrust. A distinct line existed between me and Ghana. I was isolated.

There’s nothing quite like trying to be a part of something foreign, trying very hard to understand and adopt it, while existing entirely outside of it. My ability to make friends, something I’d never really struggled with, became a most coveted skill. I was tolerant and respectful, I forgave people for their shortcomings and attempted to understand them. It was my first true application of empathy.

While I struggled to understand cultural differences, some of them tragic and misguided, I became acutely aware of my own shortcomings and my limited understanding of the world. Some days were distracting, but others were blissful and as things became normal and I accepted my post as an outsider, I was struck by moments of clarity and mindfulness.

In this clarity I started to witness myself. I began to live with myself. I watched the slow crawl of growth, the strengthening of skill, a new sense of comfort that stretched its muscles within my mind. I was like a solar light - warmed and energized by my work in the day, humming with creativity and awareness at night. I was happy and it was a beacon, a lighthouse for the darkened nights (and there were some very dark nights).

I spent two years spelunking, traversing and climbing - sometimes blindly - though the landscape of my mind. I hung from cliffs, stared into chasms and found deep caverns - one spilling into the other in an endless exploration of me. I called out to the echoes and found myself lost. I circled the same passageways and realizing they were things I would have to revisit again and again. I began my quest to leave no path un-mapped. Closing my eyes I watched my thoughts dance to the beat of my heart. I followed them to their origin, saw them to their end and like the foreign world around me, sought to understand them because I never truly had.

What I found was an incredible capacity for love - the largeness of my heart and the rate of its (continued) growth is still very hard to explain, harder still to measure. I developed a sense of empathy that surprises me, reminds me of myself when I am liable to forget. I realized my own resilience, though it took the death of a friend to realize just how resilient I’d become. For a time I seemed to fall very far, invisible and lost among the ruins of my grief. Though the pain is still strong, I know this land and I have managed to find solid ground again.

I am constantly reminded that my creativity, my ability to adapt and my willingness to learn - brought on the backs of ants and diligently carved from my own determination - allow me to do anything. My efforts, my optimism and my absolute stubbornness will lead me there eventually.

The title of this blog is actually quite wrong. It would be more accurate to tell you that the Peace Corps introduced me to myself and I can finally say that I am beginning to know her. She changes and shifts beneath my hands and feet, but I am no longer afraid to explore. I guess you could call the Peace Corps the most difficult trust fall to accomplish; I didn't end up catching anyone but myself.

xx