With my final blog as a Mitchell scholar, I struggled to come up with a witty story that perfectly encapsulated all the experiences I’ve had and the people I’ve met. If you prefer, you can stop reading now and imagine that I have done so. For those of you with poor imaginations, I’ll continue my rambling.
It feels like I just moved into my apartment, yet, as I look around, it’s clear to me that the life that has piled up around me doesn’t fit in the two suitcases I brought with me. The 10 months I’ve spent here have gone by so quickly, yet they feel so full. I’ll stay in Ireland for another two months to finish my thesis, but even now I can’t help but shake the looming notion that the end is near! As I’ve begun the purge of my belongings, I’ve had the opportunity to ponder the idea of what we take with us when we move from place to place.
When we uproot our lives, what do we choose to take with us, and what do we leave behind? Or, perhaps more concerningly, what can’t we take with us? Not only have I gained belongings, but I’ve also gained Irish friends, favorite memories, and an appreciation of the culture (I’ll have to savor the Beamish while I can still get it). My Irish friends will stay in Ireland, working at their jobs, making their families, and living their lives—I will once again move to a place I’ve never been, and once again start the process of creating a life for myself.
Souvenirs are great, but there is a limit to what I can carry with me. Over a lifetime, objects accumulate and there is a limit to the burden you can carry. Pictures are easy, but they too can be cumbersome in their own way—they eventually become mountains of data that are increasingly difficult to summit. Livingroom throw pillows might tell you that memories are all that matter, but, admittedly, all but the strongest memories eventually fade, and the best stories eventually start to feel like only stories after so many retellings.
Our relationships with the people we meet are especially tricky. It is all too easy to lose touch, or, if people change, relationships may not serve you anymore. Still, if relationships persist, if people put in the work, they can be maintained, but they too are not immune to the growth and change inherent to life. These relationships are therefore lost in a way, the relationships we once had become a memory, although they are hopefully replaced by the form your new relationship takes.
I think that the only things we carry with us forever, are the things that cause us to change as people. The people we meet and the places we live not only can affect us but almost inevitably affect us. The world around us finds ways to seep through the cracks in our armor no matter how tightly we attempt to insulate ourselves. If we let it, the places we live and the people we surround ourselves with can fully colonize us.
I don’t think I ever really appreciated the profound way in which growing up in the Midwest affected who I am. It is difficult to appreciate when it is all that you have ever known, but growing up in that kind of environment radically shapes how you view the world. Now, I loved growing up in Nebraska, but I can’t deny that a way in which my life there affected me was a sense of isolation by distance. I don’t mean that I grew up on a farm with my nearest neighbor 10 miles down the road, I’m sure people live like that, but I didn’t. I mean a sense of isolation by distance from the rest of the world. If you were driving west from the city where I grew up, it would take you longer to find a city of over 100,000 people than it would for you to drive the entire length of Ireland. More, oceans and mountains seem like lifetimes away, and yet are so commonplace as to be mundane for huge swaths of the population. I can’t help but feel awestruck any time I see a mountain peak touching the clouds or the endless horizon of the sea. No matter how many times I see oceans, mountains, or big cities, this feeling never fades.
The parts of Ireland that will stay with me long after I leave are the parts that invaded me and left me altered as a result. Ireland will stay with me in little mannerisms, and bits of lingo I’ve subconsciously adopted. The way I view the world as a result of having been here has changed irrevocably, the interactions I have with nature and the people around me have changed in numerous ways, some subtle, some less subtle. Even the way I view myself, and what I see myself as being capable of, has changed over my time here in Ireland. Most profoundly, for the first time in my life, I feel connected to the larger world rather than isolated from it. Even if I leave and never return—which would be an outstanding tragedy—the imprint that Ireland has left on me will never fade.
Now, as I prepare once again to move into uncharted territories, I’ll be armed with the same two suitcases (and maybe I’ll ship a box, who knows), but it’ll be a different person carrying them.