The gentle patter of rain on the tin roof overhead combined with the rhythmic waves of Lake Malawi creates a natural orchestra. The melodic pattern assists me as I flip through my journal, skimming through thousands of words that collectively narrate the past two months of my life. I have documented my jubilant highs of arriving to a new continent, basking in my perceptions encircling Africa. I wrote about the first sunrise in Nairobi, when my plane first touched down. I described how its golden aura seemed to encompass the land, promising a time of raw restoration and a return to more wild, primitive roots. I flip through pages to a month later, and realize now in hindsight that my initial words leaned inaccurate and pretentious. I quicken my reading pace as I lay my eyes on the times of depression and heartbreak. I relive the emotional highs and lows of falling in love with a preschool full of village children, and having to abruptly relocate across the country with little notice.
Despite my emphatic, and sometimes obsessive, journaling in the past two months, there has been an underlying guilt slowly gnawing on a lackadaisical attitude I adopted. With every passing week, a voice in my head nudged me to publish on this platform. I got tactful at accumulating a list of excuses.
My computer broke in Thailand. I have a bacterial infection. I’m still adjusting to the new continent. All of my energy is being directed towards teaching. This is my season to bask in laziness.
It is not until now, reading in retrograde, that I understand that creating a blog post that truly captures my time in Africa in itself is a paradox. I could type a mile a minute, until my fingertips are sore, and still not feel as though I have concluded. The more I write, the less know what I want to say. The less I know what I want to say, the more I write. Different experiences swirl around my mind, littering my train of thought and paralyzing my motivation.
I close my eyes and suddenly, I am back on top of Mt. Sochi, overlooking the countryside and feeling utterly small. I am back in the little white classroom with only a small chalkboard hanging on the wall, as my students call my name with their irresistible, small voices. I am on mile thirteen of a half marathon through the African bush, turning off my headlamp and watching the sun sitting on the crest of a mountain. I am lying down in the aisle of a bus, surrounded by hundreds of other Malawians joining me on a ten hour bus ride across the country. My kaleidoscope of memories end with a resounding thought: what a wild adventure I’ve lived.
I recollect myself and recenter around the present. I look out upon what must be paradise. I see my tent resting lake-side, amidst a lush oasis of an eco-bungalow community. Each morning I rise to meditate with the sunrise, setting intentions during my dialogue with the Creator of the Universe.
I’m a notorious over-thinker. I exhaust myself seeking meaning within the chaos. It is only through seeking stillness recently that I have found my singular moral of the past weeks. There is a quote that caught my attention while reading a novel found on a hostel book shelf. It says:
“Miwanzo is the word in Swahili for ‘beginnings’. But sometimes everything has to end first and the bottom drop out and every light fizzle and die before proper beginning can come along.” -Paula McLain, Circling the Sun
Life moves in cycles. Everything in nature, like the rising and setting of the sun, has a beginning and an end. Perhaps I will never understand the complications of this lifetime; I will never fully grasp the earth’s idiosyncrasies. I will never be fully aware of why the immense pain and injustice of the world exists. Yet all we can do is go on, learning from past experiences while maintaining an unadulterated fortitude towards the future. In the mean time, simplicity lies in the present. I could argue that the present is the only place it dwells.
“Do not be anxious in anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with Thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard you heats and your minds in Christ Jesus.” Phillipians 4:6-7
How simple.
