No one to tell us "no," or where to go...

That was a lie. Pictures aren't coming.

Turns out that my India power adapter doesn't work in the UK, which shouldn't have been a surprise. But regardless, I have a dead camera and two totally empty SIM cards. My bad. For compensation, I can paint you a word picture, and if you somehow can close you're eyes and read it at the same time, it'll be just like you're here too.

1. People actually say "Right-o" and "Bonkers." Whenever I speak, I still sound American. But when I think, it's really hard not to mentally impersonate every accent you hear.
Example: "Mum, come heah." It's priceless.

2. Everyone jogs and bikes kind of like how everyone in the States eats McDonald's and watches television. As much as they fit their stereotype, they make me really feel like I'm fitting mine too.
Also, bikers have to act like cars, with hand signals, red lights, the whole shebang.

3. "Mash" is really just mashed potatoes. It's not a trick.

But as a whole, London has been fantastic. My roommate, Brian, was the first person I met on the trip, and as soon as he got in, he wanted to go out again. So £7.70 and a transit day pass later, we were off for Olympic Park. But apparently a ticket to the opening ceremony was £300, and no job in college pays that well. So instead, we went all along the Thames, went to Tate Museum to see some epic modern art, and to East London to check out Little Bangladesh and some awesome graffiti.

I'm not a big art kinda guy, but there was an incredible exhibition at the Tate that attempted to bring elements of motion and movement into art. Is art simply caught on a canvas, or can it be expressed, recorded, and exhibited? Can it take on a life of its own? It was theatrical, dramatic, and powerful... and it worked.

There are 36 of us on the program, and the first night, about half of us went to a restaurant around the block called Night and Day. After, we went to Trafalgar Square to watch the Opening Ceremonies projected in the park. But after we listened to all the countries starting with "C," we bailed and went to the Thames to see the Eye of London and all that stuff around there. On our way back to Russell Square, we saw a giant escort driving by...and the Queen was in the car in the middle. Yeah, the Queen! So Day 2 was exciting.

Day 3, we had some orientation and then went to the British Museum in Bloomsbury (a four-minute walk from the hotel). Outside of all the Hindu and Buddhist exhibitions, which I will probably talk about more in depth later, I got to see the Rosetta Stone and some Olympic medals, which was incredible. For dinner, we went to Vegetarian's Paradise for some India prep. That night, four of us (Ben, Will, Tamara, and I) went to Westminster, and as soon as we got off the Tube, Big Ben was towering over us. I swear, it's so surreal that the picture looks like we got the backdrop from Walmart. It's absolutely beautiful. Then we walked to Garden Square to check out Buckingham Palace. A small part of me was hoping for a chance to see the Queen again, but oh well.

Today, these were my thoughts:

"Up until this point, London has been an idea, and abstraction as intangible as Narnia, and to see it become embodied by specific people, places, and the memories I'm walking away with has been an incredible opportunity. When I got here, I was alone and lost, but happy. I was given the ability to find my own way around, a place for myself in a city of thousands. But when orientation began, things opened up even more. I've met new people, and together, we got to go through London in every sense that matters. It took only took a few days to discover a whole new world, a lifestyle and culture that up till now was theoretical. No, I'm not alone or lost, but I'm definitely happy.

I know that India is going to be a whole new place with different customs and expectations, and it's full of people and places I don't know yet. But I will. Bodh Gaya is just waiting to become embodied and explored, to be brought into my experience- and thus, my reality."

Tonight, New Delhi!

Going Across The Pond....and getting wet.

Welcome to the land of Wallace, Grumit, James Bond, and Adele.

It wasn't fun getting here.

No, I didn't mind the hour delay in Miami thanks to Hurricane(?) Tropical Storm(?) Giant thunderstorm(?) Isaac. I didn't mind the fifteen minute power walk to my connecting flight. I didn't even mind the ten hours going across the Atlantic. I could sit, read, and wait just fine as I made my way across the world. But I am kind of bummed that my bag didn't come with me.

Being without toothpaste, clothes, and money taught me a lot, and it turns out, I can have next to nothing and get by just fine. Lesson learned.

Lesson number 2: always lie to customs. I could have just been visiting a friend or brother in town for a few days. I could have been simply wanting to live the London lifestyle and get away from the States. But no. I was too happy to be there, and I wanted to let the deceptively happy looking guy at customs know exactly why...in excruciating detail.

Orientation? Yessir. For what? I'm going to study abroad in India. And you're orienting yourself for India...in London? That doesn't seem normal. I guess not, but that's what the program told me to do. I'm meeting them here. Do you have proof? No! It's in the bag that it's in Charlotte, North Carolina!

This is what happened for about 20 more minutes until he "gave me the benefit of the doubt" that I wasn't trying to kidnap the Queen. I was the last one to clear customs.

But then I was out in the city. The inner tourist in me who just wanted to get to my hostel by any means necessary accidenaly bought an express train ticket that, though while significantly faster, was twice as much. When I got off in Victoria, I couldn't find my bus, and after seeing how beautifully stereotypical the taxis were in London, I had to take one. Twenty pounds and fifteen minutes later, I regretted it. But still, poor or not, I was where I needed to be....wherever that was.

It's strange being in a country where no one knows your name, and no one is about to ask. I was just some stranger walking on the street, and no one gave me a second look. Yesterday was my day to wander with my destination as aimless and inconsequential as myself. No one wondered or worried about where I was, and when I got lost, I had all the time in the world to find my way back. If I got tired, I found a park and I slept. My nap count: Little Russel Park, Grand Russel Park, Braxton Park, and the British Museum.

After a 12-hour night that I forced myself to sleep through, I woke up to a new day. I know where I am, and thanks to yesterday, I know where I need to go. My bag should be on it's way, and so should I.

London is absolutely beautiful, and I'm excited to spend a few more days here with people who care who I am. Or at least have an idea. There are lots of cafes to find, teas to drink, and people to get oriented with. This is just to say that I'm here, I'm safe, and I'm happy.

Pictures are still to come!

Forever Young

A few days ago, I was driving my little brother Jack Jack somewhere. The west coast? Home? Publix? I can't remember. But what I do remember is that "Don't Miss Your Life" by Phil Vassar came on the radio. It's one of those songs that make you want to grab a pint of cookie dough ice cream, mourn your lost innocence, and never be happy again. The lyrics are chalk full of missed opportunity and chances you'll never get back.

Link: "Don't Miss Your Life" by Phil Vassar 

But Jack, apparently unaware of my emotional turmoil from the backseat, kept talking about his score in Fruit Ninja. I did a few "mhmm"s and super subtle "yeah, that's cool"s, but he just wasn't running out of things to say. Had I used the American Flag blade yet? Yup. He just cut up a power-up pomegranate for 25 points. Wasn't that cool? Yeah, bud, that's super cool.
Just when I was about to turn around and ask him to not talk until the song was done, I realized that this was the life the song warned me about: the life I was missing.

My brother is six years old, going on seven. He still laughs at the jokes on Disney channel, and he has no idea that "The Suite Life" wasn't originally "On Deck". He loves baseball, and he started coach pitch last season. Pokemon has always had 7 generations, and Jar Jar Binks has always been in Star Wars. He's a little boy, and he does little boy things. Apparently in all of my twenty years, I forgot what that was like.

"Some day, you'll be old enough to start reading fairy tales again" (C.S. Lewis)

I have three younger siblings, and five on the days we want to be technical. Jack is named after an animated Pixar superhero; Calista wants to be a part-time Soccer player, part-time Olympic swimmer, and full-time book reader all in one; and in a day far, far away, Julia will talk to me about boys...... Maybe when she gets her permit. Zing ;)

Watching my mom run her house of seven has made me gain a healthy appreciation for what adults put up with in a kid's world. There are only so many spilled milks, broken plates, and Powderpuff Girl reruns any (wo)man can handle. I tip my hat to those who can fake it till they make it through the roller coasters, arcade games, and play dates. But I think more importantly, I appreciate all those brave folk ridden with age who don't fake it at all.

I appreciate those who see a kid laughing and they laugh too. I appreciate those who see childhood in full bloom and not only remember what it was like, but also realize that it's not all that different now. The only time you miss life, Mr. Vassar, is when you think you've outgrown it.

"If growing up means it would be beneath my dignity to climb a tree, I'll never grow up, never grow up, never grow up! Not me!" (J.M. Barrie, "Peter Pan")

I fully realize that I don't fit on most playgrounds, and I'm pretty sure the security at Boomers wouldn't let me in all by myself. No complaints.
But I'm still young enough to run outside in the rain during a thunderstorm and not worry about getting my shoes wet. I still spend hours doing absolutely nothing but talking to friends on a Monday night, and I'm still hoping that one day, I'll hit six foot.
Being a child isn't about being a certain age--it's about being young. And as far as I'm concerned, nothing is stopping me.

There's still a lot of magic in the world. A first kiss, a walk under a magnolia tree in Spring, and the first time your newborn child wraps their hand around your pinky. Those moments happen, and if they don't make you believe in pumpkin carriages, I don't know what will.
A happily ever after is only impossible when you stop wishing for one, and there are a lot of stars in the sky.

So this is to Jack, who is growing older way too fast but not growing up at all. I wish you never will.

Manifest Destiny

Yesterday, I woke up at a whopping 6:30 a.m.

With my glasses, a pair of basketball shorts, and an "Amazing Blood Donor" shirt that could fit at least two more of me, I made my way to the beach.

My sister has been wanting to do one thing for a while: watch the sunrise over the Atlantic and then drive across Florida in time to watch the sunset over the Gulf. Finally, we did it, and watching that sunrise was completely and totally worth the early morning coffee.

We went from sea to shining sea, Deerfield Beach to Marco Island, like modern day Lewis and Clarks. We followed the sun as it made its way across the world, rising in the East and setting in the West. And the best part is, it was only a two hour drive!

There was a beginning, and there was an end. Alpha and Omega. Birth and Death. And there was the journey in between.

The ocean is immense, and the horizon, endless. Looking on, it's easy to see that in comparison, I'm neither. I have those moments when I stand on the brink of eternity, and maybe I even touch the water, but when the sun sets, I'm still on the shore. It's hard not to feel small.

When I stood next to something seemingly infinite, I realized how limited I really am. God willing, I have my 80+ years to live, and I only have one body with which to live it. Life (capital "L") isn't fragile, and I know that. It's been around for a long time before me and it will be around for a long time to come. But my life? The life of one man in a world with seemingly endless space, time, and brimming with other living things? That's a different story.

People die. It's not an original thought, and I can't say that I'm super surprised. But that realization inevitably means that for the small amount of time that they have, people live too. Yeah, my biological clock is ticking, my lifespan fixed to a date I don't know. But in that moment when I got to sit on the beach surrounded by my family, I couldn't imagine it any other way.

Limits are what make us who we are. The only definition we have is the life we've made for ourselves through the things we've done and the people we chose to share it with. Our legacy is left with the few, and although every impact is finite, it's as unique as we are.

 

What are the chances that out of all the places and times that have come and gone, I would be right here, right now? There are a million of other ways my life could have turned out. If I hadn’t been born into the family I was, or if my brothers weren’t born on the same day. Countless “ifs” could have changed anything and everything. But none of them matter.
All that matters is the specific road I did take, the choices I did make. Call it Fate, God, or Statistics, but I find it amazing any which way.

"Today, you are You, that is truer than true. There is no one alive who is Youer than You." (Dr. Seuss, Happy Birthday to You!) 

Not that it was ever an option, but I have absolutely no interest in immortality. Having everything means holding on to nothing. It's only when you have a few things, a few truly important people, places, and memories, that you cherish them just as much as your own life. Because that’s exactly what they are.

We all reach that final limit where there is no where else to go, when the sand runs out and it's time to jump in the water. One day, we'll have that last sunset where it's time to go beyond the shore and follow the sun on its way out. But who we meet on the way and what path we take to get there? That's up to us. I may have my limits, but I promise that I'm living fully within every one of them.

The Final Countdown....

“You can never cross the ocean unless you have the courage to lose sight of the shore” (Christopher Columbus)

 

Ten days.

In first grade, my class did a presentation on India, and in front of watching parents and little kid classmates, I stood at the front of the classroom and informed the unknowing public that “India is a triangle. Like a slice of pizza.” That gem of wisdom plus the fact that peacocks are the national bird and brides wear red on their wedding day and I was the authoritative scholar of all things Indian. That’s where things got started, and fourteen years later, I’m in the frenzy of packing, sorting, and stressing my way through study abroad preparations. Ten days from today, an early morning plane is leaving Fort Lauderdale airport bound for Heathrow in London, and I have every intention of being on it.

Until then, I have the pleasant waiting company of prescription meds, a folder with a passport, tourist visa, and a long list of things I still haven’t bought. On the counter is a red notebook full of Hindi scribbles, the early beginnings of an alphabet that I still have to learn. A lot to do, not a lot done, and the knowledge that soon, I better be travel worthy. But more importantly, I also know that if the next ten days disappeared and I still didn’t have my order of powdered Gatorade, God forbid, I would still get on that plane. I’m ready to go, even if my things aren’t exactly ready to go with me.

 “Learning to let go should be learned before learning to get. Life should be touched, not strangled. You've got to relax, let it happen at times, and at others move forward with it. It's like boats. You keep your motor on so you can steer with the current. And when you hear the sound of the waterfall coming nearer and nearer, tidy up the boat, put on your best tie and hat, and smoke a cigar right up till the moment you go over. That's a triumph.” (Ray Bradbury, Farewell Summer)

Four months

and the promise is a spiritual awakening, a lifetime of pictures and stories, and a new lease on life. In short, it promises a break. I’m trading in my cell phone, laptop, and red meat for a kurta, yoga mat, and grains and beans. Coffee for tea. Late nights for early mornings. The West for the East. Four months with family and friends for four months with strangers in a strange place doing strange things. I’m trading the old “me,” everything I know, have come to know, and have come to love, for whatever “me” is out there. Looking on, it’s a trade worth making—for now, at least.

Most changes in my life up to this point (family moves, changing schools, new brothers and sisters, graduating high school) weren’t voluntarily. So every time I chose to change (going to college, joining a fraternity), I asked a question: am I running away from where or who I was? If I’m completely honest, the answer is yeah, I am. But only because it's inevitable.

Going forward means leaving something behind. The intention isn't to go away from anything necessarily, or even to go to, but that's what happens anyway. Such is life. I've lived in the same neighborhood in the same house for twenty years and counting. But those years left their mark, and even though it's the same address, I live in a completely different place. I'm not riding my bike down the block to ask neighborhood friends if they want to play kickball until the sun goes down. I don't wear a collared shirt and black knee socks to school or play hookie so that I can watch reruns of Dragonball Z on Toonami. Kids grew up, families moved out, and finally, so did I. Nothing is ever really static, and people and places change from moment to moment. All I can do is change too. Yeah, I'm on the run, but only because the past is already gone. So the question changes, and instead, I have to ask where, or who, am I running to? That, I don’t know yet--and there's no hurry to find out.

 “ ‘By not so willing anything in the world, he grasps after nothing; by not grasping, he is not anxious; he is therefore fully calmed within.’ One should neither look forward to coming experiences, nor clutch at present ones, but let them all slip easily through one’s fingers.” (Michael Carrithers, Buddha: A Very Short Introduction) 

Every time we leave, we wonder if we'll ever find our way back. Maybe we will, maybe we won't, and maybe we won't want to. Nonetheless, life is always moving forward, and this is me deciding to move with it. Starting today, I’m on my way.

Link: "Send Me On My Way" by Rusted Root