Earlier tonight I was perusing a copy
of Time that my mom gave to
me after she was finished reading it. I was originally most
interested in the cover article when I opened up the magazine, but
ended up skimming it. I skimmed a lot of the magazine, except for
the piece about the covert filming of the Romney dinner party (I
think that video is the most shocking, unforgiving and explosive
indictment of Mitt Romney in this election. It's fascinating). But
the page that I stared at the longest, spent the most time mulling
over and processing, was an advertisement for the Peace Corps. All
Peace Corps ads I've seen are brilliantly concise, never spending
much effort trying to convince or to sell. They simply are, and they
express something about Peace Corps service that is above words. So
it's no surprise that this ad struck such a chord with me, turning on
a light over desires and hopes, regrets and memories that I usually
relegate to the darkness.
“For
dreamers who do.”
As I
was sitting comfortably in my apartment, I started to feel a little
of that hopelessness which seems to be engendered by my contemporary
20-somethings: What am I doing? What
am I doing here, with my life, with him/her, at this job, tonight,
next week, etc. And maybe the most anxiety-inducing, Why
am I doing this? The ad's efficient invitation to dream, to do,
it gave me pause because I
haven't effectively processed these questions since I came home. Two
years ago during the application process, I asked myself over and
over, “Why am I doing Peace Corps?” The answer was always
because I was capable and I could help people. But after a huge
turning point in my adult life (quitting Peace Corps), I didn't
reassess and I didn't form new dreams. Returning home and working
has at times felt like a blind, zombie-like romp through the
beginning of my real adulthood. I never stopped to ask myself, Why?
I've questioned my
commitment to the thrift store occasionally, and you know what?
That's good. It's always good to strengthen commitments, to
entertain doubts and then smash them with the convictions borne of
experience. Working at the thrift store is enticing in that it's a
non-profit that seeks sustainability in my community, both socially
and environmentally. Incidentally, that's my go-to rhetoric when I
feel drained by this not very exciting life of working nine to five.
Which, as per my previous comments about feeling like a zombie, is
perhaps more often than I'd like.
This ad made me
aware of two things. The first, I can't join Peace Corps again. No
matter how much I've learned about myself since coming home, no
matter how much I think I could do it if I had the perspective I have
now, I can't re-join. Which gave birth to this second, belligerent
idea: My dreams don't have to be at all different than they were.
Living in the suburbs of Philly doesn't mean that I have to alter my
desires to be as banal as the housing developments that surround me.
And here we go with the punchy, idealistic optismism that y'all love
about me - Dammit, I will help people! I will be an effective leader
and inspire people! I will use my life experiences to walk with
people and be a friend and a mentor. I will change and be changed
for the better...
...in
Collegeville. Tonight I feel like I've had this revelation that just
because the thrift store isn't new doesn't mean it can't be my new
dream. Wait, did that sentence have some confusing negatives in it?
Yes, so let me re-phrase. The dreams that I've had for myself since
graduating college are not exclusive to far-off places and new,
exciting adventures. That was the original framework in which I
imagined them, but that framework has evolved. And while I usually
feel pretty good about working at the thrift store, tonight (and
tomorrow, but probably only after my coffee) I feel awesome
because I know that I'm already in a place that is perfect to realize
my dreams. If anything, I feel like such a dummy that I've been
waiting for the next new thing to present itself. Since January,
I've been telling myself that I only have to put in a few years at
the thrift store, stockpiling personal stability (read: cash) before
moving on to the totally awesome, wonderful, life-changing
opportunity. But it's not the experience that's the dream, it's the
dreamer that brings the vision and then does that's
so great.
All of that to say
that tomorrow is my new opportunity for dreaming and doing. I was a
dreamer, and I was invited to “do”. The dreaming doesn't stop
because I left Peace Corps. And tomorrow the “do” has a lot more
conviction behind it. I'm so excited for my Peace Corps friends who
are still working in their sites and I just want to give them great
big hugs or something for continuing to dream when they are
confronted with harsh realities and unfavorable working conditions.
To anyone, not just volunteers, who feels like they've been blockaded
or frustrated in their efforts to bring a dream to fruition. I know
I'm entering the realm of rambling, now, but I think about this quote
from Star Wars (which is possibly not motivating if you interpret it
from a fatalistic point of view). Yoda says, “Do or do not, there
is no try.” Like the Peace Corps ad, Yoda's not wasting words
trying to convince you that you can, if you try hard enough. Do or
do not. But you know what? Do.
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