During PST I remember standing outside a friend’s house, my
hand on the door handle, but not opening the door. I was staring at the sky, completely
enraptured. I was watching the stars in
a cloudless sky wink and glimmer, the moon cast light onto a white and blue
plastered wall, and filtered down through an overarching arbor of grape
leaves. But was really caught my eye was
a set of evenly spaced blinking lights in the sky, heading south-east at a
leisurely pace; an airplane. In
Missoula, I lived next to an airport and saw planes landing every day, usually
flying fairly low over the house. There
really wasn't any magic or mystery to them; they were simply bringing people or
materials to Middle-of-Nowhere, Montana, and I never really felt intrigued by them; perhaps
because they were so frequent and represented nothing more than more than
returning to a place I felt little love for.
Credit: Raven
But here, in Azerbaijan, in what many people still refer to as, ‘The
Orient’, I could tell that the plane now
flying over me was headed out over the Caspian, bound toward the South Seas,
and someplace infinitely more exotic sounding than, “Sumgayit”; which was the
location of the small, beautiful, though less exotic yard in which I stood. It was also only the second plane I had seen
since arriving in this lesser-known part of the world to become a Peace Corps
volunteer. And now, looking up at the
plane making its smooth track across the star fields, I wanted nothing more than to
be in it, heading towards some unknown destination, and away from the
terrifying task that lay ahead of me. In
that way, the blinking lights in the sky captured me and my mind
absolutely. Airplanes seemed a much
more mysterious phenomenon than a simple means of transportation. They represented escape, the thrill of the
unknown, and the possibility of new and different people and places.
I look back on that moment, now with some experience in the village that had so terrified me, and see it in a new light. In representing escape, it also represented a release of responsibility; specifically, the responsibility of teaching children (and adults) English in my village for two years, the responsibilities of coming up with activities and helping implement programs in my site, as well as representing America, Peace Corps, and myself to the general populace That weight still drags me down, and I still struggle to deal with the expectations that go along with the acceptance of those obligations. But at the same time, I understand that you can't run from what scares you forever. You have to eventually face those fears and move forward with your life; essentially, you have to grow up and accept the duties of adulthood. At this point, i'm just moving myself forward through sheer willpower, focusing on the day-to-day minutiae that helps me keep putting one foot in front of the other. I am still scared, and still need small escapes to keep myself from turning and running, but slowly, i'm building up confidence in both myself and my abilities. And the next time I get on a plane, it won't be to escape from something that scares me, put to head off towards something that does. In that way, I will keep moving forward in my life; and in that way I will go the only way worth going in life. Up.
Credit: Ajay Talwar
