Changing Scenery

I don't have a journal with me at this time. So here's a peek into my journey so far: from inside my head. Putting the thousands of dollars of tuition for a Psychology major to good use. Me at my culmination of my education as I have taken it.

Every morning I attend mass inside our German-Missionary established hospital. Swahili. The only words recognizable Yesu (Jesus), Baba (Father), unpendo (love). Glancing outside the open window frame I see birds I've never seen in my life. There is also a tree that lowers its branches to the ground, offering its velvety-pipe cleaner- looking flowers to the grassy land below. How did these birds develop? Why does evolution create so many of the same animal in such vast arrays of shapes and styles and colors. Wouldn't one kind of bird be good enough? Obviously not. But why?

How did language develop? How did the first person to contact another language begin to communicate with the other person? Where did war begin?

I have so many questions. I used to think that when I got to be my grandparents age I would understand the world. I no longer think this is possible. I think the only thing age gives you is the peace to accept that a time will come in your life where the desire to know no longer surpasses the will to find out.

I signed up for a change in scenery. I asked to be challenged and pushed in ways I couldn't even dream of. I thought that placing myself in a new situation with brand new surroundings would enlighten me. Would give me perspective I couldn't find in the U.S. The Kili waterfall hike we took last weekend, took me to the top of a hill the German Missionaries carved out to place the Stations of the Cross on. There was a stone gazebo at the very top that over looked the land out to Kenya. Think. Think of all the people below you right now. Think of all the people ahead of you right now. Think of the ocean that resides beyond your eye. See the single stream of sunlight that managed to break through the thick layer of clouds up above. What else is above me that I can't see?

I like to think. I should be thinking. I just finished 17 continuous years of schooling. Where do I go from here? Well, apparently I already answered that: Tanzania. So then, where do I go from here? Ok, again, already answered: California. But when do you stop going from here? Should you stop going? I can think wherever I am. I don't need to sit on top of a hill in Tanzania, or on a wooden bench in a church.

I think a lot of times people try to "get away" to find things they were blocked from in their current position. I don't think I have to do this anymore. I love to travel, that will always be a part of me. But I don't believe in the "get away" part any more. I think its nice to confront the things that need resolution right where you are. Traveling across the Earth this time, only brought me to the realization that everyone here has the same fundamental problems as the people I left back at home (wherever that is). Traveling brings many things to light, new languages, new fashions, new skin colors, new birds. The processes of thinking will never leave you. Thank goodness. I like my mind right where it is.

I wish I had infinite knowledge. But the reoccurring realization that I don't humbles me. Its like a warm blanket in the cold. I guess coming to a new place is a good idea if you really want to think. At least, if you get tired by the same thought, all you have to do is glance up for new stimulation. Quietness helps too, or at least the inability to make sense of any noises sounding around you. Its so relaxing here. Its like at any given moment I could just as easily fall asleep as take another step forward. I get 1 more month. I get 1 more month to make sense out of anything that has crossed my mind in the past 6 weeks. In the past 22 years. Well, but there I go contradicting my self again. I get to think for the rest of my life. I don't need to be here to finish anything. Maybe just start something. Maybe continue something.

But why does that bird look so different from the ones at home?