A Curious Absence of Fear

There's a poem by Robert Burns titled "To a Mouse", which contains a famous line that in simple English translates to:

"But little Mouse, you are not alone,
In proving foresight may be vain:
The best laid schemes of mice and men
Go often askew,
And leave us nothing but grief and pain,"

Fun fact: This poem is the inspiration for the John Steinbeck novel. Another fun fact: Robert Burns wrote the poem, "Auld Lang Syne" which is the basis for the sad song everyone sings on New Years'.

Now, I talk about this because I have a heck of a lot of events coming up. I'm starting senior year, prepping for that (hopefully!) hiking trip to Scotland, prepping for my Grad school applications and grad school itself, which would involve a massive uprooting of my life and moving somewhere out west... I'm on the brink of a massive life transition. Moving to Undergrad felt risky and unsafe and new... and now it feels like childs' play compared to what I need to do.

But here's the thing... if you know me, you know how much of a planner I am. I always play it safe, never take risks, according to my friend, I never jump without knowing I have a safe place to land. But with all of this? I'm not afraid. I'm not worried. It worries me how NOT worried I am. I just want to go out and do it!

I was talking to my friend, Nick, about this Scotland trip. He went when he was a freshman. After learning it's a 98 mile trek, I remember drowning in my own excitement, eagerness, or restlessness. I started looking up incredible hiking boots. :P I know 98 miles may be torture at times, but I WANT it. I CRAVE it. Years, maybe even as little as months ago, I would be worried and scared and timid... My anxiety would twist and turn all the cons into massive, insurmountable obstacles. Not this time.

See, I'm the equivalent of the mouse Robert Burns was referring to. I planned out my life to the point where everything was safe and accounted for. The plan was there, I just had to live it out. Well... they went askew. I did everything I possibly could, with as much diligence as I could, and I still watched part of my life fall apart in front of me.

A wise professor once told me (while I was crying in her office) that there is a certain freedom and relief in realizing that every life situation, even those that we take to be stable, has the chance of ending or suddenly falling apart. As someone who craves stability and plans everything, I hated it when she said that. But as I'm preparing for my future, and just trying to live it without knowing what the final product is going to look like, I can finally appreciate all the merit and truth in her words.

I don't have everything planned out. I have a strategy, but very few expectations of what it will look like, or sound like, or smell like, or taste like, when I'm in Scotland or Seattle. I'm just taking every day as it comes.

The last line of the poem? "And forward, though I cannot see. I guess and fear!" That's where I differ from Burn's narrator. I guess and hope and look forward to it all. Come what may.

Be well,

Megan

Seeing the Big Picture

I woke up to the sound of rain. Soon after, Alicia, one of the housemates, made a pot of amazing coffee and I sat here sipping while watching Game of Thrones.

I talk to Alicia often about when I move away. I'm studying for the GRE every day, and soon I'll kick researching graduate programs into high gear. I've probably mentioned it many times before, but I'll be looking for a program in Seattle, Portland, Denver, or San Francisco. It feels so weird to be in such an amazing place where I am--living in an amazing house, being surrounded by so many loving and supportive people, and loving what I'm studying. This place is truly home, but I know I'll be ready to move on to the next adventure--and I hope that includes a coast, seafood, and good coffee.

See, there's so much more to life than this place and this moment. If there's one big thing that I've been trying to internalize over the last few months, even with everything horrible that's happened, it's that situations change. Sometimes they get worse, and sometimes they get better. My life is now on the upswing and all the pain and sadness I've experienced is only temporary. It's gently fading and giving way to better things. The big picture is that there's more to life than romantic relationships. The big picture is that I have the skills and tools and support to go make it somewhere else. If I keep my nose to the grindstone, meaning I do well on the GRE, do my research, and line all my grad school ducks in a row, there's no reason why I won't be completely fine in Seattle. The big picture is that I'm finally starting to reap the rewards of all the hard work and dedication I've put into the last 7 years of my life.

By nature, I'm a planner. I focus on the future. That's not to say that I'm never affected by the past. Seriously, if I could change the content of my dreams right now, I would say that my life is approaching perfect. But I can still wake up and understand that a dream is a dream and that my reality is perfectly fine. Focusing on the future isn't an excuse to ignore the now. Today I am sitting and enjoying where I'm at. I'm surrounded by people I love and by people who love me. I started to brainstorm people who I'd like to celebrate my birthday with and the list is HUGE. I love that, and I'm so very grateful. I have time and resources to pursue my dreams. That's a wonderful big picture to be living in. The smaller little details are that I'm sitting here, listening to a Yellowcard playlist, sipping coffee. Today I'm going to continue decorating and organizing my room, and I'll probably do laundry. What an amazingly epic feeling--to love the little details and the big picture.

Be well. Be patient. Be loving. Be kind.

-Megan

A Good Kind of Pain

Reader, I'm procrastinating on a philosophy take-home final that I've discovered will take me forever.  Not joking.  6 hardcore essay questions worth 50 points each.  It counts for 25% of my class grade.  I wish that was all I had to worry about, but unfortunately I have a Sociology exam and Cognitive Psych final to worry about before I make my journey home on Saturday.

I've been dealing with a bit of pain all day.  I slept fine, and didn't get too bruised up from taking down my loft and putting the bunk back up--no this isn't anything like that.  This is heartache, complete and utter heartache.  With how busy we've been over the last three weeks, there's been no time to simply let the facts sink in. This is all coming to a sudden and abrupt end whether we feel ready for it or not, and believe me, I don't feel ready for it.  At all. Crap... here come the teary eyes.

As much as this hurts, I'm so glad it does.  I sometimes disagree with the old cliché "No pain, no gain" but this is a good pain, such a good pain.  My heart is aching in the most wonderful way because it means I don't want to leave, that I have found a home here.  It means that all of this, and I mean ALL of this feels right.  I ache because of memories, because I won't laugh until I cry nearly as often.  Usually, pain means something is wrong, and in this case it means that something right is coming to an end.  It's perhaps, the absence of what is right.

There are horror stories out there where individuals experience maladaptive pain reception/response and their lives are a constant struggle of self-awareness to figure out if anything is wrong.  Parents of these individuals often say they'd give anything for their child to feel pain.  Like I said, this pain means something good is changing, and that's not to say summer will be bad, but here has become home and leaving home is always so bittersweet...

It's like, do you ever feel like the pieces are starting to fall into place, even if you can't quite tell what the end result will be?  That's how I feel.  I'm practically giddy with the feeling that we're hurling towards something good.  I just don't know what it'll be yet.  All I know is that I get that feeling here.  I've never laughed so hard for so long, nor have I felt such a sense of solidarity and belonging like I do in certain situations being here has allowed me to experience.

As I type this, there's a rabbit sitting 3 feet outside my window... it's munching on the most tender dandelions, but it's chewing well over a mile a minute and often freezes.  I just want it to relax.  I want it to slow down and take a look around and appreciate this moment, to know that it's all going to be okay.  The trees on campus are in full bloom and the scent is breathtaking, literal in more ways than one, but the allergies are totally worth the beauty.

Even though it is finals week and I'm procrastinating on the philosophy final, life is good.  This pain is good.  Ripping apart the web that has formed here is good, because like muscles, these connections only grow stronger by being shredded and allowed to repair.  Time will ease the pain to be sure, but I can't wait for next year. 

Good things come to an end.  Luckily for us this isn't the end, just a long, long rest. 

This song feels like an accurate summary of my life in this very moment, both the joy of returning home to see my one family, both blood related and otherwise, as well as the pain of leaving my family here.  I'll miss them, and you can bet I'll be playing this song in the weeks before school starts up again.  It's also the first song on Concordia's Beat, a CD that features student performers.  Personally the version on the CD is better. :P

Love life, be brave, understand that pain is not forever, nor is it always a bad thing.

-Megan