My Slippers

Ok. Fine. I admit it. For the last week and a half or so I've been anti-blog. I don't know how it started, or why it came on, but I had the infection, and I had it full fledged. Even though I had a couple of ideas of what I could write about, nothing excited me. Nothing made the words jump put of my fingers. Nothing made my heart stir. And I confess, when that happened I wondered for a second if I had stopped being inspired here. The thought was striking, provocative and scary, seeing as I have a month and half left and the last thing I want to do is just coast through uninspired. It was with these thoughts that I started to get a little nervous about not wanting to write, and about getting hate mail from my dedicated followers, even if there are only two or three. Hate mail is hate mail. And then it happened just like it always does. Inspiration hit when I thought it wouldn't, and in a place I didn't expect. You'd think that after this kept happening, I would come to expect it. Apparently I'm a little dense. About a week and a half ago, on one of my down days, I went to Theany's house searching through her box of books to find some new material. Picking up three randoms, I was just hoping to find a book better than little women, which I was struggling to get through. Whoever said that was a classic clearly also thought that staring at grass growing was an invigorating hobby. What I found in Ed box of treats was more than just books: it was my spotlight on the world, and my life. I know that a lot of people think of books as a way of escaping; as a means of leaving this present life for an hour or too and engrossing ourselves in the lives of others. While I see that side of the argument, I don't think it holds water, at least not for me. It's through books, through novels and truly well done literature, that I've come to understand my world more. It's shed light on myself and my life, and made it possible for me to empathize with others, in different situations. It's through books that, yes, I've seen other parts of the world, but I've also changed parts of my own. When a novel is truly special, it changes us, shakes us, and moves us. Cutting for Stone by Abraham Verghese was one of these shakers. It was a book I was flying through, loving every page. And then it made me stop. It was a passage about halfway through the book that made me rediscover my inspiration, my want to write. It made me not only see the things that I struggle with, but except them as part of myself instead of casting them off like a smelly sock. After returning from an extended prison stay, the father of the twins in the books explains the importance of owning ones slippers. He explains that " the key to happiness is to own your slippers, own who you are, own how you look, own your family, own the talents you have and the ones you don't. If you keep saying the slippers aren't yours, en you'll die searching,you'll die bitter, always feeing you were promised more". Although it makes more sense within the context of the book, the point is simple: own yourself for good or for bad, and love it. Because its how we think of ourselves that often decides how others do as well. It was in this paragraph that I found my inspiration. Because, in my life, here and at home, I have a lot of slippers. And being here has illuminated them, some good and some bad. Looking back on my blogs, while I've revealed a little of myself here and there, I haven't truly owned my slippers, and I truly don't think I can keep writing, keep being fair, keep exposing my experience, until I do. So here, in front of the blogging community, I am going to own my slippers. Get ready for a whirlwind. I am Siobhan Lavery, aged 22. I am not married, I do not have children, I do not have a boyfriend, and I am not Canadian. All of these facts are disappointments and surprises to every Dominican I meet. More so is the fact that I'm not actively searching for a boyfriend to fulfill the supposed hole that exists in my life. I hate being taken care of. I am a girl who has the best family in the world, and really didn't recognize it until I was in college and learned that not everyone's parents are as supportive, and not everyone's brother is a great role model, leader and comedian. I am a home body, which makes traveling hard but worthwhile. My true passion in life is education, specifically special education, although someone here recently helped me realize that international service is also a passion of mine. I have the best friends in the world, and wouldn't trade their craziness for a more mentally stable group in a second. I am a person who loves to share my experiences, which makes it easy for my to talk to groups and help them shed light on their own time here. I can speak Spanish better than I know, and have a laugh that's ridiculous and sometimes contagious. I love chocolate, am fiercely independent,and have an attitude that, as my mom put it, follows me no matter what country I'm in. These are some of my slippers. These are my nice slippers. And then there are my dirty slippers that I've tried to cast aside, but that I have to own. I struggle with anxiety. I have a grave fear that I won't make it home to see my family. I always feel the need to tell people how much I love them in case I don't have another chance. I have a great anxiety about the fact that the world is rumored to end at the end of this year. Sometimes I can't breathe because of my anxiety. I struggle with my body image. I hate the fact that I haven't been to a gym since the beginning of January, although I also think its good for me to struggle with this. I fear that I'm not spending enough time helping others here, and that I'll leave with regrets. I'm afraid I haven't touched enough lives, even though mine has been touched by many. I hate teaching English even though I love teaching in general. I've realized that I can't live in another country for more than 6 months because I love my home too much. And sometimes I worry that I won't find true love in my life; that my standards are too high, even though I refuse to lower them. These are my slippers. These are my struggles and my strong points. And here's what I see. When you separate the slippers, when you categorize them, they are just things, material. But when you throw in the beautiful with the ugly, they become real. They became me. I am not who I am because I only show my beautiful side to the world. I am who I am because I am sarcastic, anxious, emotional and chocolate loving. I am who I am because next to my anxiety, I have a lot of love. And next to my strengths, I recognize my weaknesses. I wouldn't be who I am with only the good. It is the ugly slipper that has made me Siobhan. Its my slippers together that have brought me to Italy,Vermont, the dominican and the world at large. It is my slippers that will bring me home. So here it is, my blog to return to the world after an absence that felt much more profound than it was. And it's fitting that it would be a book that brought me back, as it's books that reveal myself to me in ways other things can't. My hope, for you, is not only that you never lose your inspiration, but also that you never leave your slippers behind. Wear them, and wear them with pride,. Happy Thursday, Sabrina

The Danger of Venn-Diagrams

Comparisons are a funny thing. It's something that we naturally do as humans; how does my butt compare to hers, am I having a better hair day or is she, or how does my life journey compare to that which others the same age are embarking on. It's something we learn to start doing at a young age, and in many ways it's helpful. It can keep us in check as we look to others to see what is socially acceptable and morally right. It can help us make decisions that otherwise we may be confused about. We learn to compare in school with venn diagrams, t charts and pro/con lists, and it's something we take out of the classroom and into the real world in order to make sense of the chaos that is life.

Last week, I realized first how dangerous comparisons can be, and then again how they can help us keep perspective. During my week off, I had a hard time with a bout of homesickness. When I was left to my own devices without tasks and activities, I found myself thinking a lot about home and what I was looking forward to. In a lot of ways, this is normal. I can't wait to see my family and to share small moments with them and my friends. But on the other hand, I started to live in the future instead of the moment. I found myself looking forward too often, missing what was right in front of me. I was too busy comparing and planning that I was tuning out the lesson that was right in front of me. Kind of like in class when I took way too many notes and then missed what came next. Some things never change.

And then last saturday I was delivered a blessing in disguise. The week before I was invited by an employee from ADESJO to come to his house and to a private pool with him and his family in thanks for the translating I had done for him the week prior ( yes, I now know enough Spanish to translate. Be proud of me). I honestly didn't want to go. I didn't know the family, and still feel awkward going places without someone in my DR family by my side. Plus the fact that I was going to have to put on a bathing suit after three months of eating platanos. But went I did, as I was invited and that's the nice thing to do- thanks for the lesson in manners, mom and dad. 
When I walked into the family's house, I was immediately struck with not only how nice it was, but how western it seemed. The kitchen was stocked with appliances you would find in the US, and was big and airy. There was American music in the background and I was spoken to in a mix of English and Spanish, as the oldest son speaks it almost fluently, and the mother lived in Canada for a while. Lunch consisted of chop suey over rice, and tuna sandwiches were made to bring to the pool. Taking a tour of the house revealed an actual shower with hot water, and other western comforts. And the time at the pool was spent much like it is in the US; occasional swimming with a lot of drinking and singing. At least, that's what happens on my family vacations. Overall, the day wasn't awful. I survived in my bathing suit, and only felt out of place half of the time. But I can honestly say that I've never been happier to arrive back into Freddy's house with the people that have come to accept me as one of their own.

Here's why. There was a moment when, in being spoken to in English and encouraged to eat my tuna fish sandwich, I forgot that I was in the Dominican Republic. The family and house was so western in so many ways, that it was as if a piece of this country and culture was lost. Not all of it, but enough for me to notice. Sure, the creature comforts there may have been greater, but at what price? If I had ended up living in that type of house, I guarantee you my experience would have been different and for the worst. I wouldn't have learned Spanish as quickly, I wouldn't have eaten as many platanos and I would have lost the experiences of the culture that I find so rich. I would have missed the sounds of the merengue music which were replaced by Bruno Mars. I would have missed the community coming to visit, and half of the family living in the same house. I would have missed the sounds of farm animals in the middle of the night, and I wouldn't have learned how many bucket dumps it takes for me to rinse the shampoo out of my hair. Would life with the other family have been easier? Sure. But I would have missed so much richness. I would have missed everything that I've come to treasure. 

It was with this in mind that I gladly came back to my little home, and hugged the family. It was with this in mind that I took my bucket shower, got dressed, did NOT put any make up on
( ha ha) and then left to go to church with the family, because that's what we do in this culture. And it was with this in mind that I realized that while being homesick is hard, and looking forward is easier than living in the present, I have to let it go. Home will always be there waiting for me, and the time will quickly come where I will go back to it. But this won't always be here, not in this pure and unadulterated way. I don't have a lot of time left to soak up everything here. And as hard as it is, I have to leave my pro con list behind and be here, in the now. As I learned on my LEAP retreat my second year of college, I have to stop anticipating and start participating. Comparing here to home won't do anything but make time go slower, and take me away from what's happening. Home will always be there. My friends and family will always be there. And I will be happy to go home. But until June 13, I also have to remember to be happy here. Because this will soon come to an end. Home never will.

Wishing you a wonderful (almost) April vacation!

Sabrina

Rated-R

Warning: this is going to get honest and provocative. I'm gonna talk about sex and the catholic church in the same sentence. So when your eyes roll back into your head, don't say I didn't warn you. Read on at your own risk.

At the beginning of this week, when I was forming ideas about my next blog, it seemed obvious that I should write about holy week and what that entailed in a community driven by their Catholic beliefs.I  was going to write about the amazing palm Sunday mass in which hundreds of people processed down the streets waving palms and singing, or the chance happening that is going to allow me to observe in a special education school here in town. I could have described the awesome new resident of the nursing home and how i started to form a friendship with him, or even about the boredom that sometimes ensues from being home all week with no where to go.

And then, last night, I ended up going to a church meeting which was all about marriage, and how to be a good spouse. I obviously didn't know this was the topic when Freddy and Argentina convinced me I should go, and felt only slightly out of place when everyone was told to hug their spouses, until Freddy and Argentina enveloped me in a group hug. It wasn't until the priest began outlining the pertinent aspects and challenges in marriage, that I actually felt like i didn't belong, not only because I was boyfriend/spouse less, but also because I didn't agree.

Before I came to the DR, I self identified myself as going through a kind of religious crisis. I have, and always will, believe in God, but i was questioning where that fit into my life and how to act it out. I was questioning aspects of my belief and how they related to my everyday. When I came here, I felt like I had found what I was missing for the first time in a while. I finally found a church that was as active and dynamic as the one at school; where the community was involved and seemed to be truly living the word of God. It was amazing to see how much change and good the church brought to the people in the area, and how openly it was received. I found myself believing in this church, in these people, in the ceremonies. I found myself beginning to feel secure in my faith for the first time in a long time. And then last night happened.

In the midst of this marriage talk, I was reminded of all the reasons why I struggle with the catholic church. It started when the priest said that half of the purpose of a marriage is to procreate. Wait. HALF??? I mean, do I want children? Sure,One day. Maybe not tomorrow,  but one day. Am i planning on having that be the only point to my marriage? No. And to go forward from there, I'm pretty sure that I'm  going to have sex with my husband more than just the amount it takes for me to create a child. Because he's my HUSBAND. People wonder why there is so much divorce and infidelity in the world: I don't. With rules like that no wonder people are cranky. The priest described curbing our urges like eating: there are times to eat and there are times not. Well, Mr., I say that I eat when I'm hungry and therefore if I feel another sort of hunger, I'm gonna fix that too. Because its natural. Because I'm human. Because its my right and I'm pretty sure God understands that because I was created in his image and all that.

And then we got to the issue of Gay Marriage. It came up under the list of things that can deter us from a happy marriage; things that can lead us away from God. If I could have handled the procreation argument, this is where I lost it. To list the number of reasons why this argument upset me would take a lifetime. It would include the fact that if gay marriage is a sin because procreation can't occur naturally, does that also make an infertile couple sinful? It would include the fact that with so many unhappy heterosexual relationships, are we really to deny happiness to a happy marriage just because biology got in the way? Oh, and then theres the fact that people don't choose to be gay. That they were made in Gods image. That they are who they are and deserve to be that person in every way possible.

I walked out of the marriage meeting sad, and frustrated. It wasn't that I had learned anything new, it's just that I was reminded of all the reasons why I don't agree with the church. It brought back my questions of whether it is okay to pick and choose what I like in the church, because there are so many things I like...there are just also a bunch I dont. I know that the church is a man made institution interpreting mans word about God, and that there is a separation between believing in God and in following all the doctrines of the church. And I know that my struggle is one that any questioning catholic goes through. I just also know that it sucks to be living in a word where it seems like the church is perfect just to be rudely brought back to reality in a lecture I probably shouldn't even have been in.

I guess it's kind of fitting that during holy week I found my own struggle, one that doesnt have an easy answer. The only way to solve it is to keep living and figure out how to reconcile my morals with those of the church. I don't know how that will result, but I do know  that I believe that everyone deserves happiness no matter who they love. Oh, and that procreation isn't my only reason behind the action, if you catch my drift. Other than that, I guess it's just a mystery I'll have to figure out day by day. Sometimes, I'd rather have the easy way out.

Wishing you a happy holy Thursday,

Sabrina 

Halfway Gone

Yesterday marked my half way point for this journey. Today, therefore, is the first day that I start the downhill slide. It's the first time that I have less days in the future of this trip than I do in the past. I made it to the top of that mountain, metaphorically and quite literally, and can now see not only how far I have come, but also what the trip down will entail. Honestly, it's kind of cool.

The trip up started rough. I thought it would be a lot easier, and was surprised the first few days when I needed more love and encouragement than I thought I would. But it was phone calls home, inspiring messages from friends who had done this before, and a general sense of support that helped me get started. And once I was off, I was really off. Naturally, I stumbled a lot on the way, but I also figured out, or remembered, that I really love to learn. I love stopping and thinking about things as they happen, and figuring out what that means in the bigger picture. I like figuring out the language, simply because it means that survival is actually possible. And I like my companions along the way. I realized the hard way that not everyone in the DR is like Freddy and Theany, but rather that they are the cream of the crop. It took some getting used to to realize that there are people here that arent nice and that are only looking out for themselves. I forgot that this place is just like the rest of the world, full of beauty and hardship; Freddy and Theany make it easy to think that everything is as calm, beautiful and thoughtful as they are. By looking at the poverty that exists here, I was also able to see the poverty that exists at home. That while here people may not have shoes or clean clothes or the basic needs, they have a love that is often dismissed at home. They realize the importance in relationships and stopping to think about other people and their needs. Which made ME think; what is worse, the poverty of things, or the poverty of spirit? The trip up created more questions than answers, and ended up requiring a much different path than I had originally planned. Instead of building houses everyday and working on my physical labor skills, I'm doing a lot of sitting and talking, translating and holding hands. And somehow, it just fits.

So now I'm at the top, right? I'm at that point where you can't climb any higher and the only thing taller than you are the trees you're standing under. And from here, the view down and out is incredible. Looking back, I can see where I came from. I can see that the volunteers who came and visited changed my path; that because of their questions and perspectives, I got to learn more than I otherwise would have. But I can also see a rough outline of what's coming; what I have to look forward to. And now that I can speak Spanish ( kind of) it all makes a little more sense. I can see the holidays that I'm looking forward to experiencing here; holy week, Easter Sunday, and the day of Trujillo's Assassination. I can see the ceremonies I will be privy to watching; election days, a community members ordination as a deacon, and weekend baseball games. I can see the relationships that I'm excited to keep up, while also knowing there are others hiding that will change me for the better, just like the others have. But what's most exciting is that a lot of the journey is hidden. Because I've done half of it, I have an idea and am excited for it, but I also know that there is a lot to come that I can't even imagine.

And then, in the distance, is home. I would be lying if I said I wasn't looking forward to going home. To seeing my family and friends, and eating as much funfetti cake with funfetti frosting as possible ( the one thing I crave is the one thing you can't ship). At heart, I always have been and always will be a home body, which is really why traveling is so much more important for me. Will I be sad to leave here? Absolutely. I'm leaving a place I've come to know and love in so many different ways. I'll be leaving a family that has taken me in like you can't imagine. But, again, what makes it easier, is knowing that going home isn't really saying goodbye. I'll actually take Spanish classes so that my verb conjugations make sense. I'll take merengue classes so that I can move from being okay to actually having hips that move like Shakira. We know I have the goods, I just have to move em. And I'll spread the word. I'll talk my eyes out until everyone understands the importance of this place and the need to visit, if not to help others than to help ourselves. Because, in reality, the journey doesn't end. It just changes and becomes an international trip. Because there is no way to separate the me here from the me at home. Because I need both parts of the world to be my true self. Because abandoning one means abandoning me; something I left behind my freshman year of college along with the bad boyfriend, and have promised myself I would never do again.

From here, I can see where I came from, and can guess at what's going to come. And instead of being afraid, for at least today, I'm grateful. Grateful that I've made it this far, and grateful that I've got more time, but that home is in sight. Oh, and I guess I'm kind of grateful for you and your support. Because you, whether you like I or not, are the next step in this chain. You're the next step in spreading the word and making change. Pass this blog on, and pass the word on. To just one other person. Show someone at school, in the office or a dance class ( oh and stand over their shoulder to make sure they read it).And then maybe, just maybe, we can create a worldwide journey.

I hope you enjoy your view from the top of the mountain as much as I enjoy mine,

Sabrina