My return to the states was bittersweet. Of course at that point I was going on 30+ hours without sleep and essentially stumbling through the fog of fatigue, but it felt as though absolutely nothing had changed. Time here had stopped while I was in Greece, and was forced to slowly get back in gear when my plane touched down. Despite America's traditionally breakneck pace of life, the world around me plodded onward as if attempting to run underwater, drowned out by the brilliance of life in Greece.
Since I've been back, everyone with whom I've spoken has offered the same answer to the question, "so what'd I miss?"
"Nothing."
Many websites were viewed, many movies were watched, many meals were thoughtlessly swallowed. Weeks were wasted on nothing. I'd sit there listening as my friends recounted with arduous detail how utterly uneventful the past month had been, and I kept thinking, "so this is what you're doing with your life?"
I just got back from a world-altering trip to Greece. My next step is to move out of the dorms into off-campus housing for the first time and kick-start my life by recording an album for iTunes before I graduate and figure out where I want to end up. In the words of Dan Millman, there's never nothing going on.
It's said that only people who want everything done for them get bored. Opportunities are there to be seized, and if you're sitting alone in your room mindlessly browsing meaningless websites indefinitely, what can you expect from life?
It just reaffirmed my suspicion that no time had passed since I left. But since I've been back, I got news that Eυγενία visited the Acropolis Museum for the first time in her life. She posted pictures, and I saw places from the other side of the globe where I had been not two days before. This was a strange feeling: time was still flowing there. The Acropolis Museum was still open, and other tourists were flocking to the place and snapping photos of the Byzantine village underneath the glass panels, even if I wasn't there to be a part of it.
Back in America, I'm virtually surrounded by stagnation. The ruins of the Byzantine baths felt more alive than PLU does.
So what are you doing with your life?
When I started this blog, I wrote about Erikson's stages of psychological development, and discussed my current stress in the crisis of Intimacy vs. Isolation, in which you ask, "Am I loved and wanted? Shall I spend my life with someone or live alone?" Now that I'm back, it seems telling that the first thing I thought was that the world is stagnant. Erikson's subsequent stage is called, "Generativity vs. Stagnation," in which you ask, "Will I produce something of value?" (This stage is typically associated with middle aged adults, but we often dabble outside of our current crises). Have I grown up so much in a month that I should be concerned with an altogether different life process than I was when I started?
What's the takeaway, here? Aside from a wonderful romance and a bacterial present from some goddamned stray that's eating my face and won't go away, I've come back with a sense that life is doable. This strikes me as a fairly valuable mindset. If you only reap what you sow, then one must be certain to sow as much as one can at any given moment. As we've seen, seizing these moments makes the moment yours. When your reaction to opportunities is not, "no," but rather, "why not?" the world opens itself to you. Should I hop on the metro and visit some section of the city to which I've never been? Why the heck not? Let's do it! Should I order the bizarre dish that involves lamb entrails wrapped in intestine? Sure! Want to arrange a meeting with a Greek girl and see where it goes? Do you even have to ask?
This is the best kind of exhaustion -- fatigue after a month of the most fulfilling traveling I've ever done. I'm sorry to see it end, but I am so happy that it happened.
Now, for fear of diving into the redundant, inane, or cliché, it is time to end this post, conclude this experience, and prepare to seize the next moment.
Since I've been back, everyone with whom I've spoken has offered the same answer to the question, "so what'd I miss?"
"Nothing."
Many websites were viewed, many movies were watched, many meals were thoughtlessly swallowed. Weeks were wasted on nothing. I'd sit there listening as my friends recounted with arduous detail how utterly uneventful the past month had been, and I kept thinking, "so this is what you're doing with your life?"
I just got back from a world-altering trip to Greece. My next step is to move out of the dorms into off-campus housing for the first time and kick-start my life by recording an album for iTunes before I graduate and figure out where I want to end up. In the words of Dan Millman, there's never nothing going on. It's said that only people who want everything done for them get bored. Opportunities are there to be seized, and if you're sitting alone in your room mindlessly browsing meaningless websites indefinitely, what can you expect from life?
It just reaffirmed my suspicion that no time had passed since I left. But since I've been back, I got news that Eυγενία visited the Acropolis Museum for the first time in her life. She posted pictures, and I saw places from the other side of the globe where I had been not two days before. This was a strange feeling: time was still flowing there. The Acropolis Museum was still open, and other tourists were flocking to the place and snapping photos of the Byzantine village underneath the glass panels, even if I wasn't there to be a part of it.
Back in America, I'm virtually surrounded by stagnation. The ruins of the Byzantine baths felt more alive than PLU does.
So what are you doing with your life?
When I started this blog, I wrote about Erikson's stages of psychological development, and discussed my current stress in the crisis of Intimacy vs. Isolation, in which you ask, "Am I loved and wanted? Shall I spend my life with someone or live alone?" Now that I'm back, it seems telling that the first thing I thought was that the world is stagnant. Erikson's subsequent stage is called, "Generativity vs. Stagnation," in which you ask, "Will I produce something of value?" (This stage is typically associated with middle aged adults, but we often dabble outside of our current crises). Have I grown up so much in a month that I should be concerned with an altogether different life process than I was when I started?
Things from Greece that I will miss:
Eυγενία
Crossing the street whenever I damn well feel like
Authentic souvlaki
Looking up and seeing either Lycabettus or the Acropolis and instantly knowing where I am
"People!"
Purposefully walking through Athens
Athens in general
Freezing cold nights huddled up on a park bench
Ben & Jessica's totalitarian government
Stray dogs joining our pack
"6:00 at Evangelismos?"
the Herodian Hotel jacuzzi
Ελληνικά
This blog
These people
Greece
Things I will not miss:
Smoke
European showers. Good god.
This rash
Goody's burgers
Being an outsider
Trashing rather than flushing toilet paper
Surprise oranges for dessert
Not being able to understand people who need help
Goodbyes
Things I really don't want to think about right now:
Everything.
 |
| Parting is sorrow |
Now, for fear of diving into the redundant, inane, or cliché, it is time to end this post, conclude this experience, and prepare to seize the next moment.
comments:
Kyle, your blog absolutely resonated with me. I hear the same thing from everyone I ask about the last month of their life and I simply can't comprehend how 'nothing' happened when the past month of my life has been perhaps the fullest of my life.
I also loved your lists :)
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