I had the privilege of having a one on one with the Director of Peace Corps Kenya Steven Wisecarver two days ago in a nice little house where we have our Kiswahili lessons.
He's a kind man, having done Peace Corps in a different African Nation well over 40 years ago. Like many, he was young, wanting some type of escape, some type of adventure, and like quite a few later, he fell in love in the Peace Corps and married a fellow volunteer. Together, they traveled the world, with her teaching, and him working in various fields, including US AID.
They're still together, and I think it's a wonderful truth that is hard for the cynic-who-is-too-afraid-to-be-romantic in me to believe in, but there it is.
And he called ME a Renaissance Man! Seriously?
He put a joke in some time later when he spoke to the rest of the group "the economy must be really rough for so many people as talented as all of you to want to come here in Kenya", and it's a grain of truth.
Yes, archery, poetry, religion, martial arts, they have been my passion for as far back as I've been aware (13 to be exact), but the rest, fire fighter, Muslim Student Association President, Resident Assistant, and the countless others not on my resume: cashier clerk, night club hookah boy, wandering unemployed manchild in Bangladesh, is less Renaissance and more tales of a confused person not sure how to make it in America.
And I think that's common for all of us.
By all of us, I speak of the countless people of my generation that don't know what they want, because the flowery image they might of had in college (I want to save the world and not be corrupted) isn't exactly achievable day one in the so called real world. That disillusionment I saw not just in myself, but in many others, especially those who didn't get a job right out of undergrad or didn't go directly to grad school.
Then you get that choice that apparently is the "truth" of all choices, "conform or be depressed by unemployment", which means forget what you wanted to think about and just get a job and pay bills. And there is perfect sense in this, maybe more sense than going off to Kenya to teach people to wash their hands and poop in a hole (both important unsarcastically enough), but it isn't really the only choice. However, I'm not sure (and I hope you are more than I am, but it's okay if you're not) what that awesome middle option is, because the latter option is just to freak out when you realize that your degree actually might only qualify you for a glorified secretarial job at some organization that you only started to like after you looked up it's job description and sent in a cover letter (like you did for 20 other unresponsive jobs). That freak out sucks, but it's normal.
So what did someone like me do instead? I just meandered. I went to Bangladesh to hate the world, and found out that I like food (kabobs, shwarma, lassis plain), and that I'm okay not having to rely on other people. I wrote a lot too, stories, poems, music. And then I went home to realize I never knew what home was when I was preoccupied with high school, APs, and going to some Ivy School (hah). I became a Volunteer Firefighter so I could know the weight of an ax when I crushed it into wood, fail terribly at tying a closed clove hitch, and feel powerful knowing I can do something that made a real, practical difference. And, slowly (and still), I tried to lose that numbness that became a filler in my heart over the past year.
I think we all lose ourselves at some point or another, and as a result, we all undergo and continue to go through our own Renaissance. We are all children of our own Renaissance. And I want you to love yourself for that.
He's a kind man, having done Peace Corps in a different African Nation well over 40 years ago. Like many, he was young, wanting some type of escape, some type of adventure, and like quite a few later, he fell in love in the Peace Corps and married a fellow volunteer. Together, they traveled the world, with her teaching, and him working in various fields, including US AID.
They're still together, and I think it's a wonderful truth that is hard for the cynic-who-is-too-afraid-to-be-romantic in me to believe in, but there it is.
And he called ME a Renaissance Man! Seriously?
He put a joke in some time later when he spoke to the rest of the group "the economy must be really rough for so many people as talented as all of you to want to come here in Kenya", and it's a grain of truth.
Yes, archery, poetry, religion, martial arts, they have been my passion for as far back as I've been aware (13 to be exact), but the rest, fire fighter, Muslim Student Association President, Resident Assistant, and the countless others not on my resume: cashier clerk, night club hookah boy, wandering unemployed manchild in Bangladesh, is less Renaissance and more tales of a confused person not sure how to make it in America.
And I think that's common for all of us.
By all of us, I speak of the countless people of my generation that don't know what they want, because the flowery image they might of had in college (I want to save the world and not be corrupted) isn't exactly achievable day one in the so called real world. That disillusionment I saw not just in myself, but in many others, especially those who didn't get a job right out of undergrad or didn't go directly to grad school.
Then you get that choice that apparently is the "truth" of all choices, "conform or be depressed by unemployment", which means forget what you wanted to think about and just get a job and pay bills. And there is perfect sense in this, maybe more sense than going off to Kenya to teach people to wash their hands and poop in a hole (both important unsarcastically enough), but it isn't really the only choice. However, I'm not sure (and I hope you are more than I am, but it's okay if you're not) what that awesome middle option is, because the latter option is just to freak out when you realize that your degree actually might only qualify you for a glorified secretarial job at some organization that you only started to like after you looked up it's job description and sent in a cover letter (like you did for 20 other unresponsive jobs). That freak out sucks, but it's normal.
So what did someone like me do instead? I just meandered. I went to Bangladesh to hate the world, and found out that I like food (kabobs, shwarma, lassis plain), and that I'm okay not having to rely on other people. I wrote a lot too, stories, poems, music. And then I went home to realize I never knew what home was when I was preoccupied with high school, APs, and going to some Ivy School (hah). I became a Volunteer Firefighter so I could know the weight of an ax when I crushed it into wood, fail terribly at tying a closed clove hitch, and feel powerful knowing I can do something that made a real, practical difference. And, slowly (and still), I tried to lose that numbness that became a filler in my heart over the past year.
I think we all lose ourselves at some point or another, and as a result, we all undergo and continue to go through our own Renaissance. We are all children of our own Renaissance. And I want you to love yourself for that.
uh huh
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