It Is What It Is

             I had a moment the other day.

Some friends and I had taken the bus to Allansford to see the Cheese Museum (and yes, we had a fine time).  As we were leaving, I stepped outside, and for more than a second I felt like I was back in Bradshaw, Nebraska.  There was the little gas station on the right, the agricultural buildings across the highway (they were for dairy processing, but they looked enough like grain elevators), trucks, pickups, and green fields all around.  Just as quickly I remembered I was in Australia, but even then I kept popping back and forth, visualizing one and then the other.  I felt like I was zooming in and out, but way too fast, and it was unsettling.  I simultaneously felt both closer to and further from home than I’ve felt in a long time.  I told Savanna (another exchange student from the US) about it, and she said she’s had similar experiences here.

I don’t know the moral of the story this time.  Maybe it goes to show that some things are universal.  Maybe no place is truly exotic.  Maybe every place is exotic.  Maybe this is a sign that I’m coming to grips with the reality that I’ll be home in less than a week.  Maybe home follows you.  Maybe I’ve missed home more than I’ve realized.  I won’t draw any conclusions right now.  In the end, it doesn’t really matter anyways.  I am here, for a little while yet, and then I will fly home, and all that matters is that I am content with that, and that I make the most of it.

On the Art of Moving

I leave Australia in about two weeks.  It’s not a move I’m ready for, neither logistically nor emotionally, but I’m hoping that when the time comes, I will be.

I’ve been thinking about packing my bags.  I’ve picked up a few things through the semester, and I don’t know where they’re going to fit; my bags were already, well, packed.  I suppose I’m going to have to make some hard choices.  Some things are just going to have to go.  However, there are bigger concerns.

            I know that once I am home, once my bags are unpacked and I’m back to work on the farm and eating supper with the family, there’ll be a morning when I wake up and realize that it’s not weird to be home.  It will be comfortable and pleasant, and normal.  I’ll still miss the people here, and think fondly on the experience, but I will have moved on.

Some part of me will resist this and try to hold on to my connection to my Australian home.  Somehow the thought of moving on from a half a year in another world is almost offensive, and I would rather just never move on.  It feels like the process of moving on somehow devalues what you are moving on from.

But that’s a lie.  Moving on is an essential part of life, and without the ability to let go, we’ll end up carrying a lot of baggage and dead weight.

And this is the art of moving; finding the balance between holding on and letting go.  Too much of either, and you’ll pay a price.  While there are some things that will never leave me, friendships and lessons learned and positive memories, I will also have to accept reality, and Nebraska will be my home again.

            And no, I don’t think I’m super clever for figuring out that you have to let go of certain things.  My real intent is to find other ways to apply this principle to my life.  There are other kinds of “moving” in my life; in, out, on, along, through, around.  I’ll keep it vague so you can find your own examples.  In some of these things in my own life, I haven’t found the right balance yet.  But at least now I know that.

             If you’re reading this and you live in Australia, and you’re in the market for a guitar, a duna, a pillow, chairs, books, posters, or about 75 empty cans of miscellaneous energy drinks, let me know.  Prices are negotiable.