Liberated from place

I was just reading an article for one of my classes that discussed the changes in rural, small town communities in the U.S. as they become suburbanized. I thought one quote was relevant to my post about "home" a few weeks ago:

"Some question, why, despite having been liberated from place, we as a nation still search for some idealized place to live equivalent to an agrarian community, where one is known, attached, nurtured, or can sustain a coherent identity." (Sonya Salamon)

We are conflicted, placing such a high value on mobility and being "liberated from place," yet we also yearn for home and community, somewhere we belong. I, for one, am not necessarily drawn to the idea of a rural, small-town community, and yet I do yearn for the idea of a place where I am "known, attached, nurtured." I think that's why I appreciated Wendell Berry's Jayber Crow so much. Berry is in touch with place, with bringing us back to choosing a place, and committing, acknowledging both the joys and difficulties that go along with that action.

I'm still not there quite yet, but I am pondering nonetheless.

Read this, it's good:

http://blog.sojo.net/2010/01/19/haiti-and-the-wedding-at-cana/

My first class

Tonight was my first MSW class of 2010. It was good to be back, in a place with new ideas and discussion, but it is also daunting, knowing that my life will soon be consumed with Social Work- papers, tests, readings, thoughts, etc.

This class, Human Behavior in the Social Environment (HBSE) is focusing on groups and communities this semester. Our professor brought up the recent crisis in Haiti to consider several things:

Imagine a community being completely demolished- all the systems and people in place are suddenly gone. There is literally no government. What would we do? Where is our role? What skills do we have to aid?

And most importantly- do we turn away from tragedy, violence, need, or do we face it head on?

He challenged us to not get stuck in a rut, but to keep pushing ourselves to uncomfortable places (both literally and symbolically).

So, my questions follow, for prayer and meditation:

What do I do in the face of such tragedy? What is my role?

How do I/we balance our zeal as Americans to go help everyone with an understanding of culture, that we cannot save everyone, that sometimes we can do more harm than good?

Sometimes we need to learn, to observe, to gain an understanding of culture before rushing in and trying to promote our ideals and our values, our ways of saving people. Yet in a crisis (such as Haiti), there is no time to do these things, people's very lives are at stake. Still, even in a crisis situation we have to be careful that we are not just giving to give, and that we are actually helping rather than making things worse.

Lord, give us wisdom, grace, inspiration. For those suffering around the world, especially in Haiti, give them peace, strength, grace.

The song that inspired my blog name (the particularly meaningful parts are in red):

You Rise and Meet the Day

By Dar Williams

We could pretend that we're walking on petals and light, golden light
Flaunting our love like a dance step mastered, turning from left to right
But after all the colored lights are gone
Time will leave the ashes and the dawn
You rise and meet the day

I'm watching you go, it's like spying on hope ever onward with more to burn
Giving your hands and your heart to the weave of the world, though it fights each turn
But you do not give up so easily
That's how I know you won't surrender me
You rise and meet the day
It's all I need, it's all I need to know, it's all I need to know

And I love you all the time
I had always feared that some gloomy ingratitude would seize me
But you have held the dream like every morning finds
A way to hang the sun up in the sky
And now I think I have it too –
The greatest part I learned from you
You rise and meet the day

And I can see kids, maybe yours, maybe not, ohohoh, I can hear what they'll say
Laughing at pictures with the old-fashioned hats and the clothes that we're wearing today
And they will know the true and humble power
Of love that made it through the darkest hour
You rise and meet the day
It's all I need, it's all I need to know, it's all I need to know

Pieces of my heart

We always want what we don't have. Isn't that part of human nature? When I was little, I remember hating my hair- it was too wavy. Why couldn't I have stick straight hair, like some of my friends? The funny thing is, my friends who had straight hair wanted wavy or curly hair. We just can't win.

I no longer care that much about my hair, in fact, I am quite happy with the way it is. Sometimes a little curly, sometimes a bit straight. But in other ways, I still find myself longing for things I don't have.

Last year, when I was in DC, I missed Harrisburg. I missed being by the river, I missed the small town feeling. I missed my friends and my boyfriend. I missed being closer to people of all different race and class backgrounds. So, in August, I came back.

But now, I miss DC! I miss the excitement, the noise, the constant activities, the progressive, dynamic conversations. I miss walking to work, taking the bus and the metro, not even missing my car. I miss my Discipleship Year housemates intensely, I miss living in community in that way, with people who were deeply committed, loving, and filled with grace. I miss a church like New Community- informal, diverse in age, race, and social class.

I guess all that is just a part of really living, and moving, and making connections here and there, and leaving parts of your heart in places and with people.

My recent struggle (well, one of them!) has been about home, place, where I want to put my "roots" down. Do I want to go back to DC? Do I want to move closer to my family? Or stay in Harrisburg? I am 25 and starting to get tired of packing up all of my stuff and moving it every single year (for the past 8 years!). But I also have a fear of getting stuck somewhere...a fear of commitment, maybe. I still have so much I want to see and do!

But this is one of the problems with many in my generation, I think. We are so transitory, we don't have anything holding us down, so we keep on moving. We move for a job, for school, but mostly for a new experience. I think we are searching for something, for that place that will finally feel right. Perfect, even.

In the past, people rarely left their families. It wasn't so normal to just get up and move across the country for no apparent reason. You were always surrounded with cousins and aunts and uncles and parents and siblings. So now we've gained more flexibility, that cultural standard is mostly gone in mainstream white American families. But we've lost something, and we wander around trying to find it. Community, maybe? A sense of belonging to something bigger than ourselves? Maybe a little bit of both.

So my question remains- what am I looking for exactly, and where will I find it?