another leg, another journey


TRYING TO EMBRACE THE MADNESS

 


It's kind of funny to think about the different times when writing actually calls to me by name. Usually, it's when I'm fired up by something, circumstances igniting a burning passion somewhere deep inside my soul that demands to be written about to alleviate it. Other times, it's quiet, quivering voice that asks to simply sit with it, perhaps scratching out a few words while I'm there. But this time, it's something more of a contented sigh, a quiet, understanding laugh as the summer yawns and stretches its arms, well aware that September has already arrived and that it won't be staying for an encore performance this year.

But also, maybe this time I'm the one that knocked on writing's door and asked if it would join me for a moment to sit and reflect on all the ways life is beginning to change. Sometimes that's what it's like. There are no pressing agendas, no systems that need to be toppled (though that's perhaps a topic for another day), and no papers that need to be written (at least not quite yet). Sometimes it's just an invitation to a conversation you need to give your mind and soul a little rest before gearing up to face the world again.


SOMETIMES WRITING IS JUST AN INVITATION TO A CONVERSATION YOU NEED TO GIVE YOUR MIND AND SOUL A LITTLE REST.


In this particular conversation, I imagine myself brewing a cup of tea and sighing almost exasperatedly to this invisible spirit of writing as the steam wafts away from the surface of the golden liquid, telling it that I'm still not sure if I fully understand what I've gotten myself into. It's the first weekend after the start of a four year grad school journey, and I'm already feeling like I've been run over by a train. The sheer amount of reading and mental processing, on top of a full time job that's no less cognitively draining, hasn't even piled up. We approached it as an already formed mountain on the first day of class, and now I find myself standing at the foot of it, taking down nervous gulps of my liquid nervousness as I wonder what the next few years are going to look like. And as those ideas start to turn over themselves in my mind, the mountain itself starts to change shape, molding itself into the form of a massive creature that the fourteen of us in our cohort are supposed to individually tame by the time graduation rolls around.

At the same time, I try to rein in my own fears and remind myself that whether in the form of a mountain or a monster, this journey will not be completed overnight. It'll take one step at a time, one day at a time, in surmountable steps that we'll eventually be able to look back on, in order to make it through. As I'm writing this, that idea doesn't necessarily give me much hope, especially as I think about all the other setbacks, joys, disappointments, and celebrations that will surely mark the path along the way, but I'm also reminded of a somewhat cliche idea that we've already survived 100% of the challenges we've faced so far, meaning we have a pretty good track record to go off of.


WE'VE ALREADY SURVIVED 100% OF THE CHALLENGES WE'VE FACED SO FAR, AND MOVING ONTO THE NEXT CHAPTER IS THE ONLY WAY WE FIND OUT HOW THE STORY ENDS.


This seems to be the start of another new beginning and another chapter, and sometimes it can be heart wrenching and more bitter than sweet to leave behind old chapters, but moving onto the next one is the only way we find out how the story ends. I'm not sure what the next few years are going to look like, and it's certainly nerve wracking to think about being part of the class of 2021, which seems to be looming so far in the distance, but I suppose I'm just going to have to trust that the story ends well and that every word along the way was written for a reason and a purpose.

So here we go.