I'm here.
It's been a week now and it seems like yesterday and last year that I was back at home, know what I mean? There is so much new. So much exciting. So much distance from where I've come. Yet, I've barely put out from shore and the ocean is broad. Who can tell what lays beyond the horizon? Not I.
I could regale you with details of the events that occupied my time up to this point; the people, the places. But instead, I choose to use this space and your time to reflect on my life here so far.
I still feel like I'm watching DC from the other side of the postcard. I see it, but its not real. I can't bring myself to take pictures, because I feel like I'm already looking at pictures. Would my picture illuminate the sights in a new way? Would they surprise anyone? I might as well just tell you what I've been by as most of you already know what they are and what they look like. My attempts at capturing them in photographs would not make them any more real. They would only be an exercise in ocularcentricity (look it up).
I guess the real question here is one of belonging. The monuments and buildings file past in a nearly endless beauty pageant, but I don't know them. They could be empty for all I know. They are not my friends. I really haven't had a chance to stop and have a genuine relationship with them. Until then, they will be strangers I pass on the street and bump into from time to time.
This also highlights the dual nature of the city. Early on, a local pastor explained to us in class that there is Washington, and then there is DC. Washington is official, political, grand, powerful, and beautiful. DC is raw, broken, needy, and swept under the rug for the guests. Washington has been distant from me; I can't escape DC.
Lynden is so clean and pretty and white. Even Ottawa, my "grown-up" adventure, was exceptionally clean and safe. DC is not so easy, but it's so very human. Walking down its streets is a menagerie of human experience, much of it filled with need and a history of hurt. Race is real here. At home, or even in Ottawa, race was not an issue, but over here you can tell that there is a deep history of forgottenness and struggle in the lives of people here.
On our first day here, my roommates and I went looking for a supermarket and set out north. After several blocks we came on a busy street and as we looked up and down it we saw one color and it wasn't ours. We began to realize that we were the minority and we have much to learn about human experience.
So I suppose I have already learned a great deal, but not a bit of it from the books and articles our "teachers" assigned to us. The academic work will be busy, but nothing too fresh for me. I learned the "beliefs determining behavior" lesson in Ottawa. I'm ready to push it forward. How do I reconcile my beliefs with the DC that I pass on the way to Washington? Politics does not care, does not heal, does not give meaning and purpose, no matter how much our politicians and programs promise. Does what I'm dedicating myself to in this semester of political learning and involvement really matter? I can't say. So I keep taking steps in the dark as the Shepherd calls me onward.
