So I shut up… but I didn’t write.
<< June 12, 2016 >>
Today I re-traced my steps to a coffee shop I was in nearly six months ago. Half a year. In that lifetime I was sifting through a heavy load of ideas and questions, embarking on a huge soul-searching journey, and trying so hard to get an adventure started just to keep my head clear and above water.
Have you ever been so elated to find a perfect outfit only to look back on a period in your life and realize you wore that outfit entirely too frequently? Last time I was here it was the era of my black and white kufiyah, tan leather coat layered over an army-style jacket, brown lace-up boots and gray leggings. Winter. I think it’s so emblematic of where I was in my headspace at the time because that’s a pretty standard “wannabe world traveler” look. Very Safari-Tour-Guide meets Urban-Middle-Eastern-Journalist. Exactly where I wanted to be headed at the time.
And that still sounds like heaven to me. I’m still trying to keep alive those dreams conceived in this coffee house six months ago. Still fighting to make a workable plan. Still struggling. But the breath of fresh air is that I’ve achieved what I set out to do last time I was here. I made the small adventure for myself and I’m living this one to the best of my ability until the next one can get its feet off the ground.
I’ve more or less let go of my traveling outfit which could be because it’s consistently 98–99 degrees in Nashville this time of year, but more likely it’s a symbolic tabling of that dream’s ongoing conversation: heart vs. brain. I can’t give up on my airplane dreams and North African home, but I have to put it aside for the time being. I have to wait a sec before putting the outfit back on. I’m much more integrated into American culture now, which is heartbreaking for me, but it needed to happen at some point. I do believe in dreaming huge but I also know being present is equally noble. So I am an American on the hunt for my next step to achieving the ultimate dream, and my kufiyah is tied around my heart every day.
The Kebab shops around here are infinitely helpful in providing me motivation and hope — as are the people I live and work with. It’s been refreshing to take a step back from “the grind” today (literally I’m not grinding coffee at Starbucks #dayoffpraise) and assess where I am. It was a huge risk moving here without the comfortable finances for it. But ultimately it was a decision based on mental health alone. Seeing who I was in the Music Room six months ago compared to the person today in the Library Room is more than enough evidence that the risk reaps reward.
Thankful for the friends currently existing a rough 4,000 mile swim away to whom I had to say a temporary good-bye. Thankful for all the other soul friends who reach out even when I am less than responsive. Thankful for provisions with money and jobs even if there’s still more improvement to be made. Thankful for a savior who has always known me even though I fail to always remember him. Thankful for green jackets, kufiyahs, and the swimsuits which take their place six months later.
