Floating

Henri Nouwen writes:

Today I realized that the question of where to live and what to do is really insignificant compared to the question of how to keep the eyes of my heart focused on the Lord.

As I enter into yet another season of decision making and looking toward the future, I cannot help but examine my life in Jordan. Sometimes I just feel like I’m floating around, with nothing to anchor me down anywhere. I’m like one of those balloons with just the right amount of helium – not so much that i fly away but enough to keep me from ever touching the ground. I am often homesick for the past. There I belonged to a tangible place and a I had a distinct role. I belonged to people and places – schools, jobs, clubs, teams – and they belonged to me, and even when I wanted to be anywhere but there, I knew that I belonged. That is a priceless sense of home. Here I have friends and teachers and acquaintances, but I float between them all, and I could leave this place just as easily as I came. It’s only a 12 hour flight. It’s all un-doable. Floating has its thrills, but sometimes I wish I could plant my feet somewhere familiar. Though I fear that idyllic place was only for a time. Now I must take the impediments in stride.

Nouwen continues:

The difference [between times of joy and times of dissatisfaction] was never based on the situation itself, but always on my state of ming and heart… When I was entangled in my own complaints and emotional needs I always felt restless and divided.

I began writing this post in my journal while I was taking a break from studying at Starbucks. My first instinct was to begin writing from right to left. Moments like that remind me how weird my life has become. Who forgets which way to write, or from which language to recall a word? I swear my English is getting worse everyday. Life is a continual state of flux between languages and worlds. In one day I go between the West and the East, with all its customs and lingo. Often I fail to express myself in either language merely as a result of confusion. It’s like a freaking acid trip. Yes, it’s fascinating and colorful, but when you can’t even name the colors it just becomes frightening. That’s when I start thinking I am in over my head, and there is no going back. Arabic takes commitment – I am realizing maybe a lifetime of commitment. The funny thing is, as painful as this lifestyle can be, it has become quite addicting. I want to walk away all the time, but I fear the withdrawal symptoms may be far worse. Deep down I know I would miss it and all its trippy-ness even more than I miss home.

Perhaps I can accept my current state as wandering and belong to that. I can enjoy my belonging to my mother in Georgia, my family in Texas, and my friends around the world. Regardless of what happens next, Arabic will always be a part of me, and so will the Middle East. At a time when I am associated to no formal institution or occupation, can I take in all of these other experiences and find satisfaction in belonging to them alone? A nomad is one that travels from place to place finding fresh water for his livestock. Maybe the “livestock” or portion that God has allotted to me must be taken to graze in many places. Maybe that’s the only way for me to live and sustain myself right now. After all, Nouwen concludes:

It is a simple truth that comes to me in a time when I have to decide about my future. Coming to Lima [Peru] or not for five, ten, or twenty years is no great decision. Turning fully, unconditionally, and with fear to the Lord is.

Since living here, I have had a number of unconventional mentors: Authors, directors, writers, musicians, even a few fictional characters. I find myself taking nuggets of truth wherever I can find them. In Elizabeth Gilbert’s memoir, Eat Pray Love, she records a conversation that is almost identical to the one God and I have been having over the past year (except for the Australia, Bali, and Brazil part, although I would love to visit):

(Felipe:) “So I was thinking…maybe we could try to build a life together that’s somehow divided between America, Australia, Brazil and Bali.”
(Liz:) All I can do is laugh because, hey – why not? It just might be crazy enough to work. A life like this might strike some people as absolutely loony, as sheer foolishness, but it resembles me so closely. Of course this is how we should proceed. It feels so familiar already. And I quite like the poetry of his idea too, I must say. I mean that literally. After this year spent exploring the intrepid I’s (India, Italy, Indonesia), Felipe has just suggested to me a whole new theory of traveling: Australia, American, Brazil, Bali = A,A, B, B. Like a classic poem, like a pair of rhyming couplets.

With that said, I will continue in this season of Lent seeking His face and His plans for my life. I will be thankful for this time to learn and study, and I will look forward to the year of travel and adventure ahead. Only God knows where I will geographically be by the Fall. Until then I will try my best to live one day at a time and remember that just because I wander does not mean I am aimless, for my eyes are on the Author and Creator of all.