4/9/2017 0 Comments two guardians, one weekI called my mother a week ago, out of the urgency to hear that everything was going okay back home. It was a feeling, a sensation out of demand that came in a split second; the need to hear the voice of my mama. - I was in Varanasi, India at this time. The energy of the city sticking to me like honey; dragging me down until even my steps began feeling heavier as I wandered through dirt filled alleyways. I was greeted by women poking their heads out of the doorways in bright colored sarees and red bindis. A single cow having his afternoon nap in said alleyway, blocking 16 motorbikes, a rickshaw, a couple of taxis, and a tractor. A city that strikes every sense, and heightens it by 20. A constant stream of honking horns, filled with the smell of burning bodies, the sound of motor boats chugging, and sadhus (holy men) sitting in the smoke of incense next to the Ganga in their orange robes and dreaded hair, sipping on piping hot chai. Boat drivers selling their hour long rides, vendors following you around to make the next sell, scammers looking at you as an ATM with legs. Groups of pilgrims coming from around the world. Varanasi is the city of Shiva, the God of creation in Hinduism. It sits just next to the Ganges river, a holy river to Hindus. A friend in Bali told me a story of an Indian man she met when she was on the train to Varanasi. She had spent hours speaking to him about all things in the world. Finally the question arose after hours of chatting, "Why are you going to Varanasi?" She asked, "I'm dying." "You're dying?!- shocked, of course- How do you know?" "I just do. I have about three days left, I think. And I've saved up my entire life to be burned in the city" And it was the peace and acceptance the man on the train exemplified; not only are we here to live in this life, but also to die. The last days of his life were spent in pilgrimage to this holy site. It is the combination between light and dark that mesmerized me, being a city of equal parts peaceful and chaotic. So, not only do people bathe in the Ganga (Ganges) river as a means to purify them, but it is said that those who bathe in it will become a holy person, will have their bad karma diminished, and those who are burned next to the river and put inside it upon death will reach Nirvana. There were days I would watch the cremation ceremony and just next to it I would find children jumping, hooting, and hollering as they swam and did back-flips into the river. Others washing their laundry. Many simply bathing. There were other times when I would see large masses rising to the top of the river- bodies that had risen to the bottom of the water, making their way along with the current. A friend I met in the hostel even explaining the ancestry of this city as the Great Grandfather of India; after all, Varanasi this is one of the oldest cities in the world. A city of equal parts light and dark. I knew I needed to be in India for some reason, and I had a feeling it would be painful. I have been slowly cracked open by India in these past few weeks, but Varanasi was the bitter cherry on the top, exposing my weaknesses, beliefs on life and death, and showed me how close they really are. - And then my mama picked up the phone. She was crying. Upon trying to tell me that everything was alright, I insisted and she said, "Anthony died"- I was confused and lost and in complete shock. Anthony, the name of my 11 year old cousin, could not die. He was 10 years younger than myself. She proceeded to tell me that my uncle had dropped off his other son to a camp just a couple of minutes away from his house, and upon checking on him when he arrived back home, he was no longer breathing. Here I was in the city of life and death, and my little cousin was taken out of this world. I listened to my mother as she explained the rest of the story. I could only think of the pain my uncle and Anthony's big brother were feeling. I still couldn't cry. I was numb. The loss of a son, or younger brother. I had to speak to my 16 year old brother immediately, to hear that he was still breathing, too. He picked up the phone, "Jo?" I could hear a cracking in his voice. He was there. Our little cousin was still gone. We cried on the phone together for a long time. - It's still too early to speak about so much of this, but writing about my experience is the only way I can feel like I've sorted even any of it out. A way for me to better understand what I'm going through. Being in India alone. Crying on the rooftop by myself for the loss of my silly, shining little cousin. For the consuming guilt I hold in my heart for not being with my family. For the suffering my they are going through. Knowing there's something here I have to learn about life and death before I go home, and that this lesson hasn't quite been learned yet. Missing his funeral. Being sent photos of my younger brother and uncles carrying his casket. My family in a graveyard. None of it seems real. I question my words when I say things like "light and dark" when I speak about life and death. Is it only our culture that makes us feel like dark is a representation of death, and light is of life? When someone leaves this world, don't we say things like "into the light?" As hard as this experience has been living it as far away as I am physically, I have already seen the good. The light. The love. When I was told Anthony died, I mentioned I was numb, but also incredibly awake- My thoughts raced back and forth between both extremes. Sadness, and my deep-down, all-knowing voice who told me to look for the signs of light. Maybe this was God. Maybe my spirit or true-self. Perhaps the universe. Whatever you call this voice, it hasn't left me since I heard my crying mother on the phone. This voice is unshakable. Just yesterday we were given the news that my great-grandmother had too, passed away. It is both a loss and a gain. A loss of a human form and the gain of a spirit- two guardian angels in one week. I have seen my community uniting because of this 11 year old bundle of laughter. Now I am seeing just the start of the community that is being created for my great grandma, a mother of 13 children. My community has come together to help my family with funeral expenses. I have seen my family restoring their lost connections. I have heard of people becoming more vulnerable; tearing down their own walls, opening their doors to the stories of their own loved ones who had passed away. Building strength and trust in each other through our vulnerability and hardships. Becoming one with what it means to be human. Appreciating light and dark. To love fully and unconditionally during our time here. Reminding us of what is important: our connections to one another in this life. Our togetherness.
0 Comments
4/7/2017 0 Comments the together projectBrave Ones, A story about this project: As some of you already know, I've been in Asia since late October 2016. After being lost and excited and numb and inspired, it's the place where my heart told me I would need to grow next. It's funny the way these things happen, really. I thought studying was the right thing for me at the time. I found myself hassled and overwhelmed with the infinite list of majors I could see myself fitting into. I spent countless nights trying to find where that next part of my life to take place. I was convinced studying in Europe was the key and I became consumed with the idea of leaving America; not knowing where or how it would happen. International study seemed like the "next logical option." I couldn't believe the stress I was putting myself under for something so ridiculous- being pupetted around by the idea of needing to find the perfect major. A loud, "hey Johanna, WHO do you think you are?!" yelled at to my teeney, unknowning mind one night after spending hours online searching for the perfect major, country, etc. to spend the next 3 years. I thought to myself how I was living in a country where this was made possible- to choose where you want to go- to have ACCESS to an education. I am so close to the opposite end of this- even my stepfather has had to work since he was an elementary school. Instead of being in class, he was needed to work the fields from dawn until dusk for his family. I looked at myself sitting on this pedestal of privilege complaining about having to find which country to study in, thinking of all of the people in the world who could only dream about studying. I wouldn't be this person. Nope, a life without appreciation is not my thing. So I instead went onto a volunteer website to clear my head and make myself realize how many more options there were. That if I don't study in a classroom setting, I would learn by doing, experiencing, and living. I've found I learn most and most intensely while I travel. At this time I was also reading The Alchemist, which so tenderly supported me in listening to the knowing voice inside my head. My refuge. I bought myself a ticket to Asia just after that voice in my head told me "Thailand". I can't explain this voice. But it always speaks up when I need it most. It's the same, steady voice that told me "It's okay" the morning I woke up to my flight back to America after living for over a year in Europe. And although it has been clear to me the moment I heard this voice where I had to go next, it has not been so clear to those around me. Don't get me wrong, I have received overwhelming support- especially from those who I have least expected it from. But, I have found such a great difference in reactions when I told others I would go to Asia than when I told them I would be living a year in Europe. No, the voices of fear and judgement were loud and more frequent this time around. I was angry and upset that people who didn't know anything about Asian culture decided they could judge an entire country- better yet, continent. I was hurt. Aren't we all a part of the same family, anyway? I was hearing heart wrenching things too, like "they're poor over there." What do you do with a judgement like this? Aren't we pretty "poor" in things like relationships nowadays? And putting our ego first? What is "poor?!" And why was money and the morality of others been put on the same plane of importance? I was in my third country of this trip, Myanmar, and at this point and all I received by these people was the kind of goodness that changes your heart and entire being. I thought of how backwards we had it all. Offended, angry, and cranky. I don't know how to be patient sometimes. I complained a lot. Got tired of it. Then I tried to sit with my thoughts for long enough to know what to make of them. What to do? I didn't want to just moan about these people and their mindsets because nothing will change when you try to retaliate with a judgement on their judgement. Instead, I've been thinking about something compassion-filled that I could do to help. So, this became the beginning of The TOGETHER Project. I've photographed these people with the hope of at least a single person will begin shifting eyes of fear to eyes of curiosity. Judgement in so many cases is rooted in fear. I think so often to myself, and say so often to others of how connected we are- how much more alike we are than different. We have lips and two eyes and a nose. We have ears and a heart and lungs and bones. We laugh and we cry and we feel inspired and sometimes nothing at all- and together we are totally and completely human. Beautifully, imperfectly human. I hope that in these photos that beyond the differences, we can more than anything see the similarities. Sisterhood. The love of a mother. Joy, strength, insecurity, silliness. The craving of cigarettes, the need to learn, or even just another day at work. Across the globe, we are all feeling these emotions even if it looks different from culture. We are so much more alike than what we think we are. All my love, -J 8/19/2015 0 Comments 20I was going to start this post apologizing by not being as active as I had originally planned when I began this blog.. but then I thought "why apologize for living in the moment?"
I've really just been so busy living that I haven't had the time (nor laptop.. nor wifi..) to sit down for a few hours and write a blog post. I originally planned to update weekly and I think I have 3 posts on here from over a years time, so maybe it's time to say what "19" has been to me. 19 has been: 10 countries countless means of transportation kindness beyond all measures riding on a camel in the Sahara desert strangers that became best friends falling in love with Italian wine opening my mind, my heart, my love for this world learning "cheers" in too many languages to count becoming conscious that I get to decide what I do with my life screaming out of pure joy all the way to the top of a castle on my first motorbike ride in Alicante, Spain realizing you're in charge of how you feel learning to be still counting 15 shooting stars while star gazing in the middle of the countryside, France being picky with who stays close to my heart learning to say how I feel, and what I want and understanding that every person and experience you encounter can teach you something here's some photos of my year: |
The adventures of a wildflower
|