Melissa's Travels

It is way to late to just be starting a blog entry. I've been fighting off the urge to go to bed all day and now when I actually have the chance to sleep I'm declining the offer. A week from now I'll be waking up for my first day of classes in Alicante, Spain. My mind will be buzzing with vocabulary and grammar rules from my Spanish classes back in college, as I prepare for my placement test. Maybe I should try to prevent jet lag by adjusting to Spain's time zone in advance? It's 9:30am there right now so all this means is that I'd need to fight off sleep until at least noon...then I could get up at 9pm and start the entire cycle all over again! Although this idea sounds great in theory, I'm not sure it would allow me to complete the endless list of errands that must be done before Friday. Also, most of my friends who want to see me before I go would probably not be up for meeting for coffee at 3am.



So no matter how much I try to rationalize my late night writing, the simple truth is that I should be in bed right now. However, my mind is spinning with the reality that I'm jetting off to Spain 4 days from now and this is likely to prevent me from getting any sleep anyways. If I'm going to suffer through insomnia, I may as well be productive. This morning I once again awoke to intolerable anxiety and worst-case scenarios dancing through my head. I actually found my mind drifting off to thoughts of how I could escape from this plan to go to Spain. My mom actually had to remind me today that I'm the one who chose to embark on this adventure. By the way I've been thinking about it, you'd think it was a decision forced upon me. I'm fairly certain that the after effects of the copious amounts of red wine I consumed at my going away party yesterday played a part in the worries that greeted me this morning. At least I hope this is the case...I don't want to wake up like this on my last days here in Seattle, days that I hope will be restful and rejuvenating. I'm not prepared for anxiety to cramp my style.



Amidst all my worries I've been trying to think back to the week leading up to my last trip to Europe in Spring '05. How'd I remain calm and prepare myself for embracing the adventure that lay ahead? I think that finishing finals, packing and moving out of my apartment probably left me with little time to actually reflect on the fact that the next ten weeks of my life would be spent abroad. Moreover, I think I was comforted by knowing that my best friend would be by my side through it all. Adventures are a lot less scary when you can bring a piece of home with you to share in the uncertainty and inevitable homesickness that awaits. In a conversation with my friend Tina earlier today I expressed my concern for dealing with being homesick while in Spain. She brought up a very interesting point, that although I'm going to miss my family, friends and the familiar territory of this place I call "home," I've been "Spain-sick" since I left the country three years ago. I need to constantly remind myself that I put a great deal of thought and reflection into dedicating myself to this adventure and my heart has reasons for which reason cannot understand. I've been thinking a great deal about my close friend Danielle who's currently finishing up her last year of a two and half year stint of service in the Peace Corps. Her willingness to venture into the unknown with such enthusiasm has been an inspiration to me. However, her adventure seemed to suit her so well whereas I'm convinced that the plan I've committed myself to is simply far too outrageous and audacious for my own spirit. Somehow Danielle can handle adventures. I, on the other hand have obviously placed too much faith in my own capabilities and with less than a week until I have to put my skills to the test I'm beginning to doubt that I'm cut out for this road of courage and independence. Danielle is the Indiana Jones type. I, however, bare a close resemblance to Ben Stiller's risk avoidant character in Along Came Polly.



Since I obviously wasn't going to be able to sleep off my hangover this morning, I finally resigned myself to getting out of bed. However, I didn't make it any farther than the couch. Only two and a half years post turning 21 and I already find myself unable to recover from late night celebrations. It will be interesting to see how I survive in a country devoted to late nights and avid wine consumption. After choking down some food and a painful two glasses of water I settled down for a couple hours of Buffy watching (aka studying Spanish through subtitles). Having had enough of the "Cazavampiro" by 4pm I decided to drag my tired self up to Greenlake for my last opportunity to attend church before I leave for Spain. I fully believe that all things happen for a reason and my opportune recovery from my hangover just in time for church turned out to be no exception.

As soon as the pastor announced that today's sermon would be entitled "Help For Troubled Hearts," I knew that I'd be walking out of church today filled with wisdom that directly addressed my current worries. The sermon was based around a passage from John, (14:27) "Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid." The entire message was about how peace is not contingent on external circumstances. Sometimes, when we follow our hearts we find that we encounter situations that are far more chaotic and scary that that which we originally had to face. If we're doing what feels right then shouldn't we encounter smooth sailing and steer clear of suffering? But shalom is all about wholeness, which doesn't depend on the actual circumstances you encounter because it transcends the circumstances. When I lay in bed this morning wondering why I'd wanted to accept the invitation for this adventure to Spain, I found myself thinking that I didn't really need to go on an adventure...that it would be much safer to continue in my life as I presently know it. But attempting to live an insulated life of "safety" doesn't guarantee a life of peace. I want to be someone whose sense of peace doesn't directly relate to the circumstances that surround me. I hope that daring to go to Spain, a decision that will force me to fight against fear and anxiety, will inevitably teach me how to cultivate a sustainable peace for myself.

My pastor closed tonight's service with words of wisdom from Sophie Scholl, who spoke out against the Nazi's during WWII, and as a result of her actions was executed. Scholl said, “The real damage is done by those millions who want to ’survive.’ The honest men who just want to be left in peace. Those who don’t want their little lives disturbed by anything bigger than themselves. Those with no sides and no causes. Those who won’t take measure of their own strength, for fear of antagonizing their own weakness. Those who don’t like to make waves or enemies. Those for whom freedom, honour, truth, and principles are only literature. Those who live small, mate small, die small. It’s the reductionist approach to life: if you keep it small, you’ll keep it under control. If you don’t make any noise, the bogeyman won’t find you. But it’s all an illusion, because they die too, those people who roll up their spirits into tiny little balls so as to be safe. Safe?! From what? Life is always on the edge of death; narrow streets lead to the same place as wide avenues, and a little candle burns itself out just like a flaming torch does. I choose my own way to burn.”

I told my mom this morning that I fear I'll get to Spain and find myself filled with the same sensation that one feels in enclosed spaces. On the wide expanses of beaches in Alicante I fear I'll fall victim to claustrophobia because I wont be able to easily escape to the comforts of home and all that's familiar. On this trip through Spain, I hope that I can learn how to live like a hermit crab. I would like to learn how to carry my home with me wherever I may travel to in the world and find a sense of peace that defines and calms me in even the most foreign of places.