Beginning in In-Between

July 2, 2010 at 2:00 am (Uncategorized)

It seems inappropriate to be starting this record in Philadelphia, which is decidedly neither Mali nor Edwardsville, but it’s also a place of transition, which I suppose is the larger point anyway.  A stop-over on the way to a connecting flight.  No sign as to where the destination is yet, though.

The real reason for this post, though, at this time and in this place (Staging, for goodness’ sake?  What’s worth writing about there?) is to begin this journey with a note of gratitude.  Giving thanks before something new.  Not a nod to the past as we trundle on toward some unknowable future, but a continuation of the line of extraordinary circumstances and people who brought me to this point.  Especially the people.

Mali seems to be bent on fostering miscommunication whenever anyone talks about it.  “No, I don’t get to serve for two years in Hawaii,” “Yes, I hear Bali is a great vacation spot, I wouldn’t know,”  “Millet is NOT mullet” (that one could have been the wine talking).  From my cozy hotel room, though, that just seems to add to the mystery and the anticipation.  Embarking for a strange land that no one quite seems to know exists.  So I’ll enjoy my fantasy-Mali before the hard work begins, coming at the heels of a single day of staging that could knock a full-grown hippopotamus off its feet.  Maybe I’ll try it on the first one I see.

Eighty fresh volunteers, all full of so much aspiration and ideals and energy and brilliance it’s a humbling experience.  As are the series of ice-breakers and forgotten names.  Oh well.  Sprinting down the concourse in St. Louis with eyes cloudy with tears was exhausting enough.  Being in a room full of dozens of people just beginning to realize the enormity of their decisions brought that up to sprinting a marathon.  Add in skits about volunteer policies and who knows where you’ll end up.  With a lot of questions, it looks like.  And a lot of awkward new friendships.

Part of me wants to take up this space and write reams and reams about why I accepted this application, why I joined, what possible good I think I can do.  Not only is writing “reams” rather difficult in this space, there will be plenty of time for that as I figure it out myself.  The first set of reasons most of you know, hearing the story of the land of “what-might-have-been.”  The rest are there somewhere, hiding under gut instinct.

So I’m thankful to be in this position, with bags packed full of nifty equipment that probably won’t survive the dust.  Maybe my laptop will fill up with the soil of Mali as I hope to fill up with the spirit.  To let the new flow into the old and give it new life, new purpose.  Saying goodbye to people these last few days and weeks, explaining why the Peace Corps, has made me realize just how much even the slightest of acquaintances has shaped me.  I find myself shaping my story for whomever I happen to be telling.  “It’s YOUR influence that has sent me here.”  And the funny thing is, as soon as I’m saying it, I realize it’s true.  “Kindred spirits,” an old friend recently called us.  An apt term.  Continuous.  Kindred spirits are always together at heart.

Paris and Bamako tomorrow.