An Anniversary

I remember the months leading up to my departure by the accompanying whirl of emotions. Coming to Malawi was a compulsion. I am not particularly brave. I only knew somehow that life would never be what it should if I stayed, so I bought my one-way ticket and prepared for a death of sorts - purging my possessions, pruning my life, giving my parents a small file with instructions for what-ifs and signing a power of attorney. I knew exactly what I was losing without any idea of what I would gain.

I cried at the airport. My dear friend Megan laughed at my tears reminding me I was following my heart. I, the small child, wanted to walk with her hand-in-hand all the way to the gate. Instead we parted and I remained with only the echo of her gentle laughter for strength.

I knew once I left the States my life would change forever. I could visualize a line – thin and definite – set in space and time. Some days I saw a thread, other days a finger run through sand but regardless of the image I knew my always comfortable and often happy life would change. Perhaps the woman I would become would not want to return to that life, perhaps she would be unable to return. She – that unknown woman and her life – frightened me.

In some ways I was right, there have been many changes. Two years have passed. I miss my friends and family immensely but I feel no need to leave Malawi. I have found great love. I have cried to exhaustion many times. I am content. At times I am devastated, at times angry and tortured, at times humbled, at times filled with peace and light. The force that brought me here roots me to this spot. As I drove last weekend from Lilongwe to Zomba – the road twisting over rolling green fields towards distant blue mountains, neat village homes clustered along the way – I thought, “This is a beautiful country and I am grateful to be here.”

In other deeper ways I have not changed at all. I am the same person I was at five although my eyes have seen much more. My hands have held much more. My heart holds much more. Still inside, the mix of emotions feels the same. The internal voice remains unchanged. The sequence of thoughts leads me along a well-worn path. I wonder how many lifetimes it takes to progress, to transform experience into wisdom, to love without ego, to perceive the world differently, not simply to act differently but to see differently? To believe differently?