Getting Out of the Self-Absorption Closet

I've been pretty self-absorbed lately. Ironic, as I sit here writing a blogpost about...well, me. I'm usually very introspective, which can be both extremely healthy and extremely detrimental to my mental state. I like to keep it on the healthy, centering side of things as much as possible. No, lately I've been less concerned about contemplating who I am and how I live my life and much more concerned with stressing over the little things (my apologies to the universe for the amount of frustration I have recently expressed needlessly). Self-reflective versus self-absorbed. See the difference?

I realized it last week when John Ray and I sat down with the book of Common Prayer (specifically the one by Shane Claiborne prescribed for "ordinary radicals"). We were going through the liturgy and came to three bolded words that threw me for a loop: "Prayer for Others." Jesus Christ, there are others?! I thought, giving John Ray a look of bewilderment. He shrugged his shoulders and, realizing I was not going to say my prayer for others out loud, bowed his head to silently pray. In defense of myself, I honestly have felt very removed from any world outside our apartment. I (in my biased opinion) did a good job keeping the whole wedding season from being one big Elizabeth-fest because I wanted it to be about both of us and all of our family/friends. Now, though, we're in a new city where we've met few people and don't truly know anyone. So in terms of "others" here in Louisville, I didn't think I had anyone to pray for. Perhaps I could pray that others would be sent my way? I suggested to the dumbfounded silence in me. I have "others," though, who live in Charleston...Rock Hill...other places. Yet, I have felt so distant from them while trying to establish a new life here that I didn't have anything to meditate on for them. My life has been centered on creating a house and home, cooking and eating, looking for jobs, and watching Netflix when my introverted brain can take no more. Please, God, not another seven pages of job listings that are just barely interesting...but just interesting enough to make me read through all of them.

This started the thinking process...and a week later, here I sit: in my closet at midnight with all the lights off. Mostly because I kept John Ray up with abstract questions ("Do you think any person is ever completely powerless?") until I felt so guilty that I let him fall asleep only to have the questions continue floating around in my head--moving from self-absorption to self-reflection, stretching those forgotten muscles in anticipation. Just an example: I know that if I was truer to myself and read Huffington Post articles about interfaith prayer strengthening communities instead of brain-melting as I scroll through Facebook, unfollowing people who post too much, I would feel more energized and more connected with the world. I would probably view our neighbors, who seem just as shy as I seem severely allergic to small talk, as people to get to know and not people to check out the blinds for to decide if I should delay getting the mail or not...But I hyperbolize.

I am working on a post about "prayer" (to be defined and reimagined in various ways, I promise) because it's something I have spent a lot of time deconstructing and exploring. Also, my little sister and I just had an awesome conversation about it that was everything I needed and more. So that's coming. But first, I needed to sit in my closet and work through the blurriness of self-reflection and self-absorption. It's for me, but hey, you've joined in now and why not let it be for you, too? Self-absorption is insecure while self-reflection demonstrates how secure the mind really can be. Self-absorption disguises itself as a need so often (i.e. I need to figure out how I fit in this job description so I can get a job) while self-reflection allows honesty and vulnerability to be remarkably powerful. I volunteered during college as a direct defense to the self-absorbed thought processes that leave me depressed and anxious, while self-reflection was a powerful tool to take my service to a lifestyle of questioning injustice and pursuing peace. That shouldn't change now.

There are others. I just need to change my perspective and approach. Right now, they might come in the form of abstracts and possibilities, news articles and hypothetical community members; they might be people I need to get back in touch with in an attempt to continue living life alongside them...even states away. I'm hoping that they also come in the form of real, honest community here in Louisville.

in!Genius

I believe in the power of stories to create change.

But when I was asked to share my story, I was initially skeptical  that people would want to hear what I had to say. 

A wise person in my life likes to tell me that I will not be able to empower others if I don't first empower myself, so I began digging around in my life for a story worth telling, a story that might create change. 

On September 25th, a night of free thinkers and free stuff that we at the College of Charleston like to call "in!Genius," I had the incredible opportunity to share my story with a theatre full of students, faculty, community members, and my dearest friends. Now that it has been told, I'd like to pack it away for awhile and work on creating some new stories. But for those of you who missed it, here it is. Grab some popcorn and enjoy!

They Don't Call It Barefoot College Because You Have to Take Your ShoesOff (Even Though You Do)

I have grown to dislike urban India--the blaring traffic, the excessive shopping, the lack of natural green spaces. This is a problem because I am living in Jaipur, the capital of Rajasthan and an important city for history and culture. I know there are pros and cons. I know that urban India offers me European-style toilets, access to Oreos and coffee, (mostly) paved roads, a more progressive look at many relevant social issues... But I feel so much more alive when I escape the city streets and find myself in smaller towns and villages.

On Saturday, I field tripped it with the rest of the CLS students to Tilonia, by way of Pushkar. Tolonia is the most rural place I've visited here so far, but it is home to Barefoot College, a truly remarkable organization. We spent the day exploring the two campuses of Barefoot College, surrounded by fields, trees, mountains, and even a small concrete platform where three men were randomly working out. (The are always surprises.) Some of the other students were not so thrilled, made comments about "poverty tourism," or just grumbled about having to stomp through the rain and mud to get from building to building. At first, the cynic in me searched for problems with this organization, things that were not on the up and up or were damaging the community. But I managed to turn the cynical voice off and just be amazed by this inspirational place. I'm sure there are faults, there are better ways to do what they're doing, but I wasn't there to diagnose or change. I was there to learn and let myself be changed.

Barefoot College was started in this rural village as a place for people from rural communities as a place that provides basic services and sustainable solutions. It was founded by the "poor" and is fully run by the "poor." I didn't see a single foreigner there other than the other students and a few interns from NGOs nearby who were taking the week to learn from Barefoot College. Everyone there is from a rural village or community. 

Okay, so I lied a little. I did see foreigners, but not in the way one normally sees foreigners at an international NGO. Typically foreigners are there running programs and making decisions (usually to please foreign funders).  On the first campus we visited, there was a building where groups of women were learning to build solar powered lights. I first noticed the Tibetan prayer flags strung near the ceiling on one end of the long, rectangular room...then I realized the women were clearly not all Indian. Some were from Tibet, Myanmar, Panama (Yes! Spanish! Unfortunately all my Spanish is disappearing into my Hindi...), Sudan, and other places that escape me right now. According to one of the men who teaches there, these women come from their villages, stay at the College while they learn this skill, and then return home, bringing knowledge about solar powered lights back with them. In one of my cynical   moments, I scanned every face, searching for a sign that something was amiss, but I found nothing...

There was another room where people turned old materials into new useful products: journals, toys, bags. There was weaving happening in an old church left behind from British rule and clusters of mirrored ovens calibrated to follow the sun. At the other campus, we saw the women's development center the College runs, a building where women were making sanitary napkins (that aren't exported or sold but given to nearby hostels and clinics for use in educating women), and a health center complete with a "barefoot dentist," several acupuncturists, and a homeopathic pharmacy. The grand finale was a room lined with stringed instruments and an assortment of puppets. It was the communications department, naturally. Apparently theater has a huge influence when it comes to informing the public here, and so the people in the communications department use their creative skills to ensure that nearby villagers know about information, such as their right to a living wage. Our time in that room may have jumped the shark a bit when we sang a bilingual version of "We Shall Overcome." But still, it was a beautiful moment.

The entire tour was in Hindi, except for the man who works in the women's development center and who got a little carried away with English as he was talking with us. And much to my surprise, I actually understood almost everything, not because it was especially easy Hindi but because I was interested in what they were saying and managed to outsmart my ever-shortening attention span. I am completely inspired by how non-condescending their model is, the way people learn from one another and then go back and teach their villages. Barefoot College emphasizes the fact that formal education is not necessary for people to make a decent living, which is an idea that wouldn't stand up well in the States, but in Tolonia, it seems very effective, empowering, revolutionary. I left feeling so energized. It seemed like such a dignifying place, maintaining the Gandhian spirit of service...

The only thing I was left wanting was a conversation with someone other than the leaders we met. I would have loved to employ my Hindi skills and talk to one of the women sitting on a stool in the long room creating a panel for a solar powered light with tools I'd never seen before. I would have loved to hear their stories from them. But that's what I always want: Story.

In classic Alternative Break form, I feel it is necessary to ask, "Now what?" What do I do with this experience, this space, the inspiration? I don't know yet. I have a few thoughts...but they are very incomplete. As I am working on my proposal for a Fulbright research grant, I'm now seriously considering applying to research women's roles in NGO work. I talked with the man leading us around and he explained to me that about 40% of the fieldworkers are women, but very few women are actually in a leadership role. He says they are trying to raise up women leaders in the community, so that decisions about their development actually rests in their hands. 

Still thinking, hey, this girl is nuts...there's no way that place is making a real difference because it was started by uneducated people with no experience running an NGO...? Watch this TEDtalk and please suspend your cynicism and disbelief. Let yourself be inspired to act as I have been. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6qqqVwM6bMM&sns=em