Monday, April 5, 2010

Flying Solo

When I was in eighth grade I wrote a story about a fictional grandmother who traveled the world. This (in the story, my) grandmother, two years widowed, used travel as a means to embrace life after the loss of her husband. I was constantly getting her exotic souvenirs in the mail--a piece of the Berlin Wall, ceremonial masks from Africa, prayer beads from Tibet. I illustrated the story with snapshots from her adventures--Grandma beside the Dalai Lama, waving enthusiastically at the camera; Grandma shading her eyes and beaming before the Leaning Tower of Pisa. My teacher (no spring chicken herself) loved it, and I loved creating her--she was eighty-something and absolutely alive, and I sent her off to places that I could only then dream about.

I've been thinking about that story a lot lately, which has everything to do with the fact that I'm about to travel solo for the first time. I love how--without realizing it, of course--at twelve years old, I fictionalized the woman that I one day hoped to be: bold, adventurous, resilient, and most of all, able to keep company with herself. It's funny and perhaps weirdly prescient that I wrote the grandma without a backpacking buddy. That kind of independence inspired me, yes, but seemed completely alien to me as well, being a) twelve and b) one half of a fertilized egg.

Thus, you see how, with a sister succumbing to love and marriage, that exploring life alone (no, not alone, alone sounds depressing--independently) is a fairly new endeavor for me. And while I admit that I often envy my sister's seamless transition of partners--twin to husband--it is a bit exhilirating, this learning to do life by myself. To be known as Jess, and not part of some package deal. And to figure out what on earth all that means.

I've imagined myself as a lot of different people by now. When I went away to a Christian college, I was going to become the most amazing Christian. I would lose my self-consciousness in worship and evolve past my spiritual A.D.D. I was also going to date a lot, because that's what you do at Christian college, and because my high school awkwardness had to be worth something. When I studied a semester in Italy, I was going to be popular. I was going to make lifelong friends easily and for once feel like I wasn't craning my neck towards the cool kids' lunch table. When I went to Rwanda I was going to become a tanned, earthy goddess. I would feel beautiful, at one with God and nature, and surround myself with laughing orphans.

Life is nothing if not ironic: as I write this now, from the messy room in which I grew up, I feel myself becoming more than I ever did with all those of changes of scenery. But of course, they all played their part too.

I can't explain it, but it is deeply satisfying to know, with so much still up in the air (beliefs, career, etc), that I am different. This limbo in which I find myself is proving quite formative, if not outwardly productive. Uncertainty disarms and recreates, perhaps more effectively than any backdrop change ever could.

It is quietly intoxicating, to feel yourself becoming who you are--even if it's not exactly any of the selves you once imagined. I'm just happy now to bear some resemblance to the old woman I invented when I was twelve.

6 comments:

Lee said...

You know what? I'm both proud and envious of you. And for what it's worth, I think you're doing things "Just right."

jenn said...

Sis! What beautiful thoughts! Seriously, I wanna cry.

Now you need to find that story and scan the pictures. Pronto!

Rachel said...

I've come to believe that times of uncertainty are always those in which we mature the most. In some respects, it's an alarming time, but one that I've tried to learn to embrace as well.

I'm with Jenn - you do need to find those pictures.

saranorrisstyling said...

so beautiful i want to cry. i hope to be as comfortable with myself as you are becoming. so proud of you....and btw you are cool! and if you are not the we are both uncool in a cool way cause i am pretty sure we both sit at the same lunch table

HeatherLeigh said...

I don't know why I am just now reading this but I did quite enjoy it. I want to read this grandma story you speak of. I am so very envious of you that you feel so comfortable all by yourself. I am such a needy person and always want people around me. I wish I could be completely content alone since at the moment I spend a lot of my time alone in this city since I have yet to find a job or circle of friends. I too am at a point of uncertainty and it is driving me crazy since I am a person who likes to plan and have things set in stone...but as I have taken from your blog, I guess this is the time to truely find myself. Love you Jess...you inspire me..

Rebecca Hooper said...

this. is. awesome. I'm excited for you and the adventures you have in your future! :) you're a cool chick & I know this goes against everything you wrote BUT if you decide you'd like to have a tag-a-long...i like india.