Ten minutes.
It only took me ten minutes of checking up on things back home on my phone in this air-conditioned coffee shop to forget I wasn’t in America. As I absentmindedly sank into the familiar smells, sounds, and expectations of being in a first-world environment, I also sank into the entitlement for such things.
It would be so much easier to live here if I had what I have at home. But that is not what this is. This is the space outside of my comfort zone. This is where I have chosen to live.
The thought of being in a position without want or need; honestly scares me. May I never forget the feeling of being a foreigner.
Real talk; the race is hard. Probably more mentally than physically. It is uncomfortable. you learn to live in community when the honeymoon phase ends- because it will. But you don’t have to live in that place. That mind prison that is so easily built around your preferences.
Taking off from the Juan Santamaria International Airport I watched as the familiar tin shacks and terracotta tile roofs were replaced by cookie-cutter suburbia of America. Population density replaced by population disconnection. I’m not saying America is bad, not in the slightest. There are lots of good things being done here, but there is a lot to learn as well. Let’s learn from each other! We need each other.
“We need to step outside of our culture to see the shackles it has placed on our thinking.” -somebody very wise
