If you read me, read all of me

You know, for the average person, there are unfortunately only a handful of times where one is completely content with where one is, how one feels, and who once was, is and will be. Perhaps I may be speaking for myself, or perhaps I’m speaking with you. Who knows? Call it spiritual epiphany, call it enlightenment, call it “Zen”, call it “one with God’s plan”, or what have you. Regardless of the title, or the arbitrary religious affiliations that come with those titles, it is something to be cherished, pursued, and never forgotten. It is in these small, unbearably enormous, rich and serene existences where we experience absolute life, absolutely.
It’s where purpose and choice, options and destiny meet. It is one knowing that life is composed of the “less than optimal” choices one makes amongst infinite other imperfect possibilities, and that these choices are unequivocally and perfectly theirs. It’s where one knows that these choices makes one perfectly oneself. It is where one is content in accepting that these free choices and consequences are destined to serve a purpose one may never know.

Is that all? Is that how one “gets there?” I don’t believe so. In an extreme case, one can live in complete hedonism and nihilism and will inevitably feel emptiness. That person may never regret a single decision and may freely accept all consequences but still can be unbearably discontented. That person is perfectly who they are, yes, but perfectly empty. I believe that as long as all these “imperfect” choices are genuinely chosen out of love of others as well as oneself, one has no reason to regret choices, regardless of its consequences, “negative” or “positive”. This is all of our destinies. This is all of our purposes. When one starts on this path, one reaches joy and complete contentment that can’t be stolen, but only when one falls from this path. I can’t say that I know that these statements are true, but I have faith in them, as I do in my God. I guess that’s the same with everyone else. One may not believe in the same God or creed as I do, but one must at least believe in love. I suppose that’s what gets us there. Here, in this magnificent moment of “I don’t want to be anyone else, anywhere else, or in any other time” moment.

Why, you must be asking, is this volunteer writing about this and why is this continuing on for longer than we’re interested in reading? The answer is this; I want to write this because I want to remind myself of why I’m here and how I got here in the first place. I want to remember this and I want others to remember this as well to remind me of how joyful I was in love. I am writing this in hopes that particular people will read this, and to thank them for inadvertently helping me get there.

Get comfortable.

“Maybe you should take an inventory of why you’re here and what you’re doing here. I remember that you also have a lot going on at home, which you should also consider.”
That’s a rough paraphrase of someone that I very much trust. Another person, whom I regard highly, and a person who has my upmost respect had told me,
“Perhaps you should start looking at things in a different perspective,” another rough paraphrasing.

When I heard these statements, I, quite honestly, had two reactions in my mind and heart; alarm and dismay. Had I been seen as someone that is negative, a person that is here for the wrong reasons, a person that is closed minded and provincial? How differently have I viewed myself than this? Surely this has stemmed from something and for some reason.
I firmly believe that the way a person views another has something to do with, yes, the person being viewed. You may disagree, but I see it as a litmus test. Just because someone disapproves of you or your actions, it doesn’t mean that their perspective is invalid to you. In fact, it’s where one should begin. Now, the friends of whom I spoke, I trust, find me amicable enough, so the previous statement is not directed toward them, and I digress. I did exactly what they suggested to me. I took an inventory of why I was here and what I was doing, and I took another perspective of my environment and the culture around me. Allow me to share:

I came here because I knew this was my calling to do so. Whether I am deemed “successful” or not is not of any consequence. This statement is not some sort of metaphor, nor is it an exaggeration. There were certain events that took place in my life, and the life of my family that led me to enter the Peace Corps. My faith, for one, had parted unto me that the giving of oneself to another is the greatest form of love that could ever be expressed, nay, is the very definition of it. For this, I have done what I had done for my family the past years of my life before entering the Peace Corps. I had taken over the business of my stroke ridden father, working both a full time and part time job, taking care of my father, and going to university full time. I did all these because I loved my family and my God. He had given me strength where I could find none, and had relieved me when I could take no more. I am not embellishing nor am I boasting of any of this; in fact, I am omitting a great portion to spare you, the reader, several hours of your life. What needs to be said is that I had fulfilled my duty to my family and my God. During university, there was a question of whether I would graduate because of the load I took with my courses and my family business. Please believe me that it was by a sheer miracle that I graduated, and I vowed that I would do service for my God. I looked into various Catholic Charities and after prayer, found that none spoke to me. I then found the Peace Corps and felt strangely compelled to apply to a secular institution. When I was accepted, I told my father, and he couldn’t have been more proud. He explained to me that the Peace Corps had helped his village in Korea and that a volunteer had taught him English, helping him get into university.
He had given me his blessing to go and spread the gift that the Peace Corps had given my father.
Before I left, my father made me vow that I would complete my service well, regardless of all circumstances for an oath is an oath. These were my reasons and intentions to go; to serve my God, my family, and my country.

When I arrived, I was full of enthusiasm at the prospect of fulfilling my duty and purpose, and felt that sense of peace and content of which I wrote previously. I looked at this as an opportunity to give because of how much was given to me, and to please my family and God. As time passed, I felt more distant from my purpose and reasons. Reflecting back, I can tell you the moment I began to deter away from my original intentions. After my three months training, I began to fear. I feared the failure of living up to expectations, I feared isolation, and I feared that I was being abandoned by God; perhaps the typical experiences of a Peace Corps volunteer. However, in my fears, I failed to recognize my change in perspective. I began to fall under my own ambitions to counter the lost sense of purpose. I wanted to serve myself, and began to see the projects I had proposed as a way to do this. I began to think that I “deserved” this service, as if it was something to be won. I tell you now that this is no more motivating than to believe that you’re here for no reason at all.

How ludicrous.

I see now that it was folly for me to have even thought that volunteering was anything less than an honor and privilege to serve my God, family and country. Because of this, I saw barriers instead of opportunity, and deficits instead of surpluses. The perspective that I once had had all but disappeared.

After some serious self examination, by advice of my friends, I have come to view things the way things should be viewed; with green lenses rather than exclusively blue or yellow.
Though there is poverty in this country, generosity is abundant. It is cultural and expected that you offer to share your meals with your neighbors even when there is but a cup of food available. In villages people raise children together as they well should, and take care of each other. If one member of the family is successful, that member shares his wealth with his entire family out of his sense of duty. People take care of the homeless by feeding them at street food stands. They rarely ridicule them and pity them more than the average American would ever do. It is customary to ask the condition of almost every aspect of your life when greeting a friend before conversing on other matters…even on the radio.

Yes, there are faults, but so many positive aspects that I have failed to share with you, and the previous list is far from exhaustive. I hope that I will be able to share a more balanced view as I should have done before.

Now I tell you the reasons why I wish to stay. I am staying because I now see God where I should have seen him earlier. I wish to stay because I have yet to complete the work I had set out to do. I wish to stay because of the priceless friendships I have forged. I wish to stay because of my oath I had taken. I wish to stay not to promote myself, but to promote the potential in another person’s life. I wish to stay not because I love the Peace Corps itself, but because I love what the Peace Corps represents.

Regardless of what my future holds here in Togo, I am content because I have finally come to be who I should have been, a grateful servant. Thank you.

Michael