We all like to
be comfortable. As Peace Corps Volunteers, we often dream about the comforts we
enjoyed and took for granted back home: sitting on the couch with a bowl of
cereal or mac ‘n cheese, dogs you could pet without any fear of being chased or
bitten, getting cozy by the fire at wintertime, pumpkin spice lattes and hot
chocolate, being at home during the holidays surrounded by friends, refrigerators,
air conditioning, central heating, shaggy carpet, philharmonic concerts and
seeing plays in the theatre, celebrating family traditions in the presence of
family, being in our own beds, Thai food, Indian food, Mexican food, Southern
food, German food, really any kind of food other than what we’re eating right
now. Joy can be found in the familiar – we know exactly what to expect, we’re
never disappointed or unpleasantly surprised, we’re safe, satisfied, and filled
with a sense of wellbeing. But if everything in life is a comfort, are we
really having a comfortable, fulfilling life?
Life as a Peace
Corps Volunteer is rarely comfortable. In fact, I would say that it wouldn’t be
an understatement to label a volunteer’s life as two solid years of being
highly uncomfortable. Since arriving here in Peru, I’ve had more than my fair
share of discomforts: My bathroom is a cement latrine with a hole on the ground
no bigger than a coffee cup, which, although perhaps easier for men, was
clearly not designed for women. I have to live through a three month-long rainy
season each year. The rain knocks out the electricity, making it difficult to
cook, and also shuts down cell phone service. Even on good days, the cell
signal in my town is shoddy and calls to my family are frequently dropped or
riddled with delays and static. I have to travel seven hours by bus to check my
mail or have reliable internet. I have been peed on by various farm animals as
they are loaded on top of the bus and wiz through the windows. I’ve had mice
crawl over me as I sleep. When I first moved into my host family, I was presented
with a room that was covered in dust and dead insects, had holes in the walls,
and had a bed with sheep pelts for a mattress. I have to work in a foreign
language. I live at high altitude, making it hard to exercise. I have to wash
clothes by hand. I have to constantly prove to authorities in my town that my
work is worthwhile and I have to fight tooth and nail to advance my projects. I
have to work with women who are so used to being disappointed and hopeless that
they don’t believe change is possible. I have to constantly show my community
that my promises aren’t empty. I have to gently swat away notions that I’m a
human money bag, that I’m an eligible bachelorette ripe for the picking, and
that I’m somehow worthwhile just because I’m American. As a college educated
woman, I have to learn to be humble and happy in a community where most people
have a high school education at best. Life, to be sure, is hard.
The question,
then, is not whether life is uncomfortable, but whether that uncomfortableness
is worthwhile or not. Is it worth being in pain? Is there something to be
gained from feeling alone, in trouble, and misunderstood? In the midst of
discomfort, is there some treasure to be found? To all these questions, I would
answer unequivocally, “yes.”
Although we
long for comfort, we are most defined and marked by our moments of being uncomfortable.
That moment when we allow ourselves to jump into something unknown, when we
pursue the end anyway even when we’re not certain if it’ll be good, that’s when
our lives really begin. As a friend of mine, Pastor Jim Walker of Pittsburgh’s
Hot Metal Bridge Faith Community explained in one of his sermons, “If it's
always comfortable you never grow. You never take that step into the
unfamiliar. The step into the unfamiliar is a gift. The step into the
unfamiliar, the step off the cliff is a present from God. The real enemy isn't
the cliff. The enemy is fear." If that’s the case, what exactly are we
afraid of? Do we fear the discomfort itself, the physicality of pain and the
emotional uneasiness? Perhaps. Personally, I think these fears are superficial,
mere byproducts of a deeper, more human fear that we all have, regardless of
circumstance: the fear of being vulnerable.
As Brené Brown explains in her 2010 TEDTalk on
vulnerability, all humans are programmed for connection. Our mission in life
and our happiness depends on our ability to make connections with others.
However, in order for that to happen, we have to allow ourselves to be seen,
really seen. We have to permit our innermost parts to be out in the open for
others to see and, perhaps, to judge. We have to take the risk of being hurt,
of being betrayed, of being disappointed or let down. We must, in the end,
display and offer ourselves wholeheartedly. Being vulnerable, then, is the
epitome of courage. “Courage, the original definition of courage when if first
came into the English language,” Brown explains, “ is from the Latin word ‘cour,’ meaning ‘heart’ and the original
definition was to tell the story of who you are with your whole heart.” Truly
courageous people, she continues, view vulnerability as neither comfortable nor
excruciating, but rather something necessary. Why? Why is it essential that we
make ourselves vulnerable? Why must we place ourselves in fearful situations
where we are stretched beyond our limits? Why do we need to sometimes be in
deliberate discomfort, to deprive ourselves of the routine? Why, as Jim
explained, is the unfamiliar a gift?
Because it is
only when we step off the cliff and we are in the midst of a fall do we learn
how to fly. Vulnerability is not fun. It is not easy. It is always risky and
often unpleasant, too: “Vulnerability is kind of the core of shame and fear and
our struggle for worthiness, but it appears that it's also the birthplace for
joy, of creativity, of belonging, of love” (Brown, 2010). By taking risks and
by revealing ourselves for who we truly are to others, we are able to truly
revel in some of life’s greatest joys: the opportunity to identify and overcome
our fears, personal growth and discovery, true human connections and
relationship-building, reconciliation, community cohesion, real love. When the
opportunity to be in the unfamiliar is denied, when vulnerability is numbed and
ignored, you are also denying yourself of all these things. You cannot have one
without the other.
For this
reason, as a Peace Corps Volunteer I feel validated in my discomfort.
Regardless of how my projects fair, I see my time in Peru as worthwhile because
of the growth I have achieved by gradually overcoming or bearing through my
hardships. Regardless of your walk in life, I hope you all feel the same way.
Whether we want to or not, we are all going to be thrown into the unknown at
some point or another. My hope is that we all remember to face these moments
with joy and with courage. For it is only through courage that we remember that
we’re worthy of love and belonging and we discover what we’re really made of.
And it is only when life is at it’s most alien and unfamiliar that true,
genuine life has the potential to begin.
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