I'm sitting at my desk in Ibri. It's Friday afternoon and my dorm is quiet, its inhabitants either sleeping or gone for the day. Some, though, are gone for a little longer, having finished their time at Noor Majan yesterday. Though the goodbyes were sweet, it's still hard to see friends leave. But, that's the nature of these types of experiences; you spend a couple weeks or months in a place, meet amazing people, and have the opportunity to share life with them for a brief moment.
In a week, our group will once again be saying goodbye, but this time we will be the ones leaving. This is a hard realization for me. I am a nostalgic person, so it can be difficult for me to move from one season of life to the next. Today, sitting here, I am feeling the familiar mixture of emotions I have come to equate with travel and life: excitement for what's to come, nostalgia for what's almost over, and gratitude for the entire experience.
How, then, do we find joy when we fear the end? How do we know when it's time to move on? We don't. If I've learned anything in my few years, it's that sometimes we aren't ready to move on. Sometimes, the moment we let fear of the end rule over us is the moment when it ceases to be good. We can be nostalgic. We can be sad. We can fear the end. But don't let that keep you from living.
This coming week I plan on savoring every moment. I will wake to my alarm buzzing too early for my liking and hear the familiar sound of the springs in my mattress popping as I wrestle to free myself from their wire-y grasp. But then I will breathe. I will see the light of a new day, the kind that is fresh and bright with possibility. I will be mindful of my walk to my classroom, feel my skirt hit my ankles with each step, and allow the smell of frankincense to fill my lungs and calm my mind. I will savor the warm welcome of the day's first cup of karak tea, and enjoy sleepy greetings from the other students, murmured in a new language we are beginning to share. As the day continues, I will find delight in my teachers' smiles, laugh at our mistakes, and relish in the joy of learning. I will bask in the balmy breeze that accompanies me and my friends to dinner and keep my eyes open to the culture around us as we walk. And at the end of the day, when the sun has fallen behind the distant mountains and I am greeted once more by the squeaks and creaks of my bed, I will breathe and allow this day, this season, to be imprinted onto my heart.
My time in Ibri has been amazing. I have loved every minute of it and I'm not ready to let it go. But, as life so often commands, I must go. I don't know how or when, but, Noor Majan, I'll be back.
I don't know what season you are in, but wherever you find yourself, my hope is that you can draw strength from the past, find excitement in the future, and gracefully pass between these seasons, being mindful of, present in, and grateful for each one.
Salaam,
Anna