Space

In the last few weeks, amidst the business and preparations for my departure, I have been reflecting on space. There are different spaces that hold special and particular meanings for me here in Connecticut and in the surrounding areas where I have spent time.  While moving to a new place is exciting, full of places to explore and learn about, I think that this very thing can cause nervousness or even a bit of fear.  There are no meanings or experiences attached to these new spaces, nothing familiar or grounding...yet.

A few months ago I returned to visit Holy Cross Monastery in New York where we (the YASCers) completed our orientation.  As I crossed the bridge and took in the scenery, which goes over the Hudson River, I realized that this space already held a significant meaning for me.  The trees here are determined.  They cling to the sides of the hills like needles on a pin cushion.  Their roots snake in between slabs of shale along the Hudson shore and dip into the water as the current comes back upstream.  In the morning the current flows to the sea, but in the evening it returns to its source. Time is different here.  It seems to go at a more natural and normal pace. Somehow it doesn't seem too rushed or too slow, just a steady march.  There is time to watch the honey bee hover over the water's edge.  Time to smell the sweet scent of decaying leaves, time to linger enjoying the remaining heat of this Indian summer.  Time to meditate, time to contemplate, time for God. That night I stayed late for vespers and dinner; I can't think of a better way to end the day than in communion with my brothers and sisters of the church, praying.  Somehow everything here feels meaningful. Sitting here writing this has significance and importance even thought it is not directly contributing to world peace; it is almost necessary.  It is a space where I can reflect, be still, and take time away from the world, as Jesus did, while praising God for what he has made.  It is a space where the common place event is wonderful. The noise of a squirrel defending its young some how amazes me and I begin to pray: Our Father, who art in heaven...

As the date of departure drew closer, I noticed that the spaces in my life began to change.  Slowly, I cleaned out my office at work which was quite green with succulents, begonias and other plants.  My books came off the shelves and the files were thinned.  At home, not only was I beginning to pack for a year but I was also packing up all of my belongings to store in my parent's basement. The hominess of my living space became more and more empty and chaotic, a constant reminder of the upcoming transition. My surroundings were making me feel a bit crazy as I felt like I was living in constant disorder.

 I began to feel a bit homeless.  I realize that I was far from a true situation of homelessness but it served as a reminder of what immigrants go through, what a nomadic life might feel like and the uncertainty many face on a daily basis.  The matter of things also became a theme.  One day as I was packing, I was watching the movie The Hobbit.  In the beginning of the movie, Gandalf is visiting Bilbo explaining to him the prospect of participating in an adventure.  Bilbo begins to explain that he can't possibly participate because he has to take care of his mother's good china set and the many other things in his home.  Gandalf questions, "Tell me, when did doilies and your mother's dishes become so important to you?"  I reflected that many of my recent thoughts revolved around the  things I was saving up to buy or thoughts like, "If I just had such and such my life would run smoother."  Concerns about things were brought up while packing; how was I going to get by without a certain thing in Brazil?  Would they sell it there?  The scene in The Hobbit reminded me of my values which are not centered on things.  In fact, I am a critic of consumerism and feel much more relaxed when my life is a bit more Spartan.  I began to re-evaluate my thought processes which concentrated on worries and concerns and change them to "going with the flow" mantra.  If I can't buy the exact brands of toiletries that I like for a year, I will survive.  If I can't always find the types of food I prefer for a year, I will survive.  If I am a bit uncomfortable for a year, I will survive. Ultimately, all of these experiences will be to my benefit, helping me to be grateful for what I have and in constant prayer for those who have less.  I often struggle with the concept of being grateful for what I have because I tend to feel guilty for what I have as it is significantly more than what I need. Over the past year I have come to think of gratitude a bit differently. Being grateful is not being grateful that I have while others have not, but, I think being grateful is more about appreciation, and not always wanting what I don't have.  It is about taking care of what I have and being more generous with my possessions, time and life.  In actuality, I find this much easier to do when I have fewer possessions because I realize their true value.  When I have too much, I take things for granted.

I have since arrived in Brazil, welcomed by generous and patient people and living in a simple, yet, lovely apartment.  And, in fact, because I was not able to bring all of my things with me, I feel calmer.  My introvert time is spent doing more satisfying activities and my time with others is more meaningful.  I now am connecting with the spaces that will be significant to me in Brazil.  They aren't quite "mine" yet, but through the new relationships formed here, I have new memories which are attached to these spaces.  Soon, Santa Maria will feel like home, even if for only a year.