The first thing my grandmother asked me when I told her I was going to Lesotho: Will you be able to go to church?
Church. That's the first thing she thought about. Not what the food will be like or if I will be able to take a hot shower or call home or what clothes I should bring, but whether or not I will be able to attend mass every Sunday.
She was relieved to hear that the country is predominantly Christian, and that most of those Christians are Catholics. I can't say I felt the same way.
For the past few years (yes, perhaps when I entered my 'rebellious' college years) I have been struggling with my religious identity and trying to form a new spiritual self - or, as I have discovered in this past year - reclaim my spiritual self.
I don't like labels, so I'll avoid them here.
The first question I asked myself: what is the purpose of life? And I can't say that it was answered through traditional methods or with the foundation of the religion I have grown up with. I don't know if I have fully answered the question, but I have started to better understand my place in this world, my talent and my duty to share it, my newfound appreciation and commune with nature, and the respect that should govern my actions and treatment of others.
I look now for the beauty in every moment and find ways to honor it. I try not to hurry time (which I don't believe is actually linear - circular time makes more sense to me) and to rather live in the moment and appreciate it, rather than hurrying it along and worrying about the 'end' or death or an afterlife, if one exists.

This is a crucial time for me - spirituality, mentally and soon, physically - as I prepare to leave for Africa. But I will embrace this Peace Corps experience, look for the beauty within it, without any expectations or idealism, and hopefully will reclaim more of myself during this time.

I got an invitation to the Peace Corps. I will be teaching English in Lesotho. I leave in November, and these weeks are starting to race by. My life, which seemed dull only two weeks ago, suddenly is filled with light and possibility and I don't feel like I have enough time to write everything I want to write and visit all of my friends and family and even eat my favorite foods before November comes around. But it's moments like these that make life exciting, and this is one phase of my life that I can't wait to dive into...

Idealists change the world, realists merely live in it.


I'm sad for the world. Not angry or confused, just sad. We make up ideals for ourselves - sing about them, write about them, recite them to others, live by them in our teenaged years, and abandon them when we've lost all hope. Reality, the hopeless call it patronizingly, as though the rest of us dreamers haven't caught on. In fact, we're the only ones to have caught on to their whole charade.

Give me the dreams and I'll give you a life worth living (and living well).