Goals

It was over six months ago when I left “home.” I said goodbye to my dog, Reggie, left family and friends and boarded a flight to India. I expected this journey would lead me to achieve new goals, reach new levels of cultural awareness, and be challenged intellectually.

Little did I know, the first goal I’d accomplish on this trip would be one I set long ago.

It dates back to December 2011, sitting next to my dear friend, and fellow fellow, Joe Hinderstein. Joe and I were hanging around one day and decided to make new years resolutions. Among them, admittedly, were prototypical resolutions like “bench press 240lbs,” and “ask ____ girl on a date” (both never happened). More poignantly, we also created a slightly more obscure goal for me: to cry.

From my memory, I hadn’t shed a tear since my grandmother passed away in 2002 when I was 9 years old. I had gone through my teenage years without an emotional breakdown, so Joe and I decided it was time for me to let some steam off (I guess this is what minerva fellows do in our spare time). Anyway, 2011 didn’t prove successful for my goal, nor did 2012, 2013, or 2014.

I’m happy to report that I accomplished my goal on the first day of my minerva fellowship, when I left my family at the airport. It completely blindsided me. I was a mess, overwhelmed with a stabbing pain that discarded life-as-I-knew-it, replaced with the unknown.

For someone who considers themselves a fairly mentally-sound person, I was unfamiliar with how to handle the uncontrollable feelings that were taking over my psyche. I surrendered, which has been a recurring aspect throughout my education here in India.

This occurrence made me realize just how hard it can be to unchain yourself, willingly, from what is most meaningful. These opportunities do not happen, but rather must be sought with conscious effort. Letting go means you must attach yourself to new pillars, new stabilities, and new people. You create new families and get enthralled in new literature. Interests and hobbies change, but you stay the same.

In my most vulnerable state, sobbing through security lines in Boston, sniffling my way through a blurry layover in Frankfurt, I began to identify myself as completely shattered; I was starting my journey at rock bottom.

I knew this wouldn’t be the first time that I would feel this way over the course of my time in India. I also understood that one must break to be rebuilt. One must confront their weaknesses before moving forward, stronger, with conviction.

Time has passed. I find it amusing how my perspective has changed.  I left behind my family, but have been welcomed into a new one; I left my country and have fallen in love with the soil in India; I left my school and am trying to run a business; I left friends and made ones of different skin color, religion, and dinner-table discussions; I temporarily entombed my past but now obsess over my future.

Today my family arrives. While I am not homesick, it has simply been too long since I’ve seen their faces. And while I’ve fallen in love with this country, I am also eager to see how I respond to surrounding myself with the people where I feel most belonging.

We will be spending a few days in Jaipur/Bagru, then heading to Kerala (southern state of India). Tomorrow is my birthday and we will be having a traditional, Indian birthday party in Bagru. I cannot wait to show my family how to dance like an Indian, eat like an Indian, and expose them to the subtleties of this culture. They’ll be pushed out of their comfort zones – that I can assure, but it will all be good fun in the end.