Blossoming, and Slightly Broken

"I want to discourage you from choosing anything or making any decision simply because it is safe. Things of value seldom are."

Toni Morrison

I am struggling to come to the page and write this week. There is so very much moving through me every single day. I spend every day in a constant state of awe. Last week marked a year since I applied to join the Peace Corps. On the day I got accepted to work here in Tanzania, I wrote in my journal, I am awestruck. A year later, I used this same word, unknowingly, to describe myself in one word.

Awestruck, etymologically means, “overwhelmed by reverential fear,” which is certainly one way to describe my ongoing state of being. I am in reverence of this opportunity, of the place, the people, of myself. There is such a deep sense of gratitude and joy, but the sense of fear does not evade me. There is fear in the fact that I chose to uproot myself for everything I knew to come here. There is fear in the idea of people back home moving on without me. There is fear in the dramatic shifts and changes I feel within myself. There is fear in not knowing what will come next. There is fear in the self-inflicted heartbreak of leaving things behind, not knowing if they will be there upon my return.

Despite this, or perhaps because of this, I continue to wake up and greet every single day with reverence. I come to my yoga mat at the end of every day, moving into positions I know will release deep tension and pain, and I cry. I weep. For everything. For nothing. I say, over and over again, thank you. It takes a specific type of person to willingly break their own heart, and there is, perhaps, bravery there. But I have never resonated with the idea of bravery.

I am coming to understand that life is truly just a series of heartbreaks and lessons. And the strangest, and perhaps most ironic thing, is that I am, and will likely continue, to spend my time here considering what I left and what I will have when I return. I am going to inevitably leave this place. And that time will come far quicker than I would like to imagine. The other day two of my closest friends in my village told me how much they will miss me when I leave. I have only known these people for three months, and I have another twenty-two to grow closer to them. And yet, they are already saddened at the idea of my departure. I’m not leaving for another twenty-two months, I said. Siobado – it is not a lot – they say.

And, they are right. This experience has already brought me such a deep joy, endless love and courage. I am learn to love myself and the world in an entirely new way. I will perhaps spend the rest of my life living in America. But this experience is fleeting. It is ephemeral. Leaving this place will break my heart open in an entirely new way. Leaving America broke my heart open, and I have now lived here for five months, building and blossoming into a fuller version of myself because of it. And so, I will continue to push deeper into this experience, and into myself, trusting deeply that in everything broken and bruised, there is also a blessing.