The critic
It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.
— Theodore Roosevelt
Placement: ASILA Luxury; Rabat, Morocco
The past several weeks have been marked by both an extreme sense of retrospection, as I look back over the school year and bid my dearest friends goodbye for the summer, and a (mostly) graceful form of non-stop movement. From stressful, three-hour-long final exams to hectic engineering senior design planning and the goodbyes of Santa Clara University’s 2018–2019 commencement, I don’t know that I have had a moment to breath quite yet. Well, until now. Currently, I find myself sitting on a porch that overlooks the Anderson Ranch Reservoir, just south of Pine, Idaho. For what it’s worth, Pine has a population of 32 people. And while I still haven’t been able to decipher just what brought my family to the two bedroom cabin that quietly rests behind me, I honestly can’t bring myself to complain either.
Though my blog post comes a little earlier than most, seeing as Shelby and I will not depart until July 5th, the sense of urgency behind both mentally and physically preparing for such an adventure has not been remiss. It still feels like yesterday that I sat down in Kenna Hall 111 for the first time and glanced across a room full of strangers, wondering how I had not yet met most of the extraordinary human beings that I would embark upon this program with. I seemed to have blinked, however, as the school year has since come to a close and it has become time to both process these last ten weeks and set about our individual journeys. In any case, the Arabic word Asila (أصيلة) means authentic, so here goes nothing.
Ask anyone who has known me more than, say, four days and they will tell you that I love to plan. And I mean everything. Spontaneous rarely makes an appearance in my personal dictionary.
That in mind, Shelby and I had absolutely no idea where we were living until just last week (and we still haven’t been able to secure the exact address), and while at one point in time that fact would have made me absolutely break out in a nervous sweat, I think Global Fellows is already beginning to change me. Nonetheless, I do have to keep reminding myself that our journey will be one of just that: curiosity, discomfort and everything, ever unexpected and impromptu. So, while I have been overcompensating by purchasing far too many packing cubes and sticky notes, I have also taken it as an opportunity to prepare to be amazed, continuously, for the next 30 days of my life. And I am coming to realize that, while this spontaneity is what I fear most, it is also what I am most excited for.
I hope that this journey teaches me to find peace with the unknown and unplanned. I hope that ASILA, Manal, and Morocco open my eyes to a very different lifestyle than the one I have been brought up in, and that they consequently teach me how to navigate such experiences with grace and gratitude. While we will certainly face both cultural and language boundaries, I hope that these hurdles teach me to communicate with greater empathy and intention. I hope that ASILA allows me to stand at the forefront of female entrepreneurship and gender inequality in Morocco, and that the journey strengthens me just as much as it may the organization. While my purpose may be to support the ASILA team and further the mission of the organization in elevating grassroots women and disrupting the long-standing fate of women in Morocco, I hope to leave Morocco as a more whole human.
Am I prepared yet? Well, no, probably not. Am I excited? Beyond words can describe. So here’s to stumbling, and to stepping into the arena nonetheless. To striving valiantly. To spending the next four weeks in the most worthy of causes. To daring greatly.
