After living in the dorms for a month, it's a bit of a shock to come back home. Granted, I was just getting used to dorm life and getting into the routine of not lugging a truckload of stuff to the shower, but as soon as the concept of shower shoes didn't utterly weird me out, I was sent back home. My days have gone from knocking on friends' doors and taking spontaneous runs downtown to hauling my ass over to the bank to cry over my savings account that's going towards overpriced textbooks. Although I had plenty of free time over summer session, it felt justifiable because I was surrounded by people who were just as bored as me. We all could re-assure each other that in the fall, it would be different because we'd be drowning in homework and stress. Free time can be lonely once you're the only one with it. But I've gotten through this past week by saying once I return to college, it'll get easier.
But what if, in the fall we justify the uncontrollable stress by saying it'll be different after freshman year? Or once we graduate, or finally stop living off ramen noodles? It's as though we're all waiting for some magical time when everything will be right, and we justify not fully living now because life will officially start when we get that diploma. I remember being in a haze through most of middle and high school because I spent most of those years with the mantra "I cannot wait until I get to college." I'm not exactly sure if I was expecting a complete personality makeover or I thought overcrowded lecture halls were sophisticated, but that next landmark was far away and I could still fantasize rather than plan. Now I'm thinking "I can't wait until I graduate." I can still pretend that I'll get away with floating over to Shoshoni and spending the rest of my life in a little bubble of yoga, meditation and people who don't judge you for wearing bandanas and handling stress by putting your legs behind your head (I could only think of doing that in a world where I was a contortionist, but still). I guess it makes sense, since Shoshoni was the only place where my mind wasn't already vacationing to the next section of life; if anything, I was dreading the thought of ever leaving. Who knew that the place where I have to do dishes and wake up at 5:00 in the morning would be my home away from home?
Maybe I will find a way to get back there in four years, but I also realize I can't spend all of the now thinking about the "then." It's not like I need a temple to meditate, nor do I need the reassuring voice that I shouldn't beat myself up if my mind wanders. After all, you're not a true beginning meditator if you don't think about what you're going to make for dinner at least once. Yesterday was one of the few times I actually followed through with my intents to live in the now and to sit in silence and just observe instead of wonder. While the stillness got interrupted by my neighbor's cat looking for a cuddle-fest, it was nice to be aware of the present moment and how I wouldn't have traded the quietness of that afternoon for anything. I still love to fantasize about the future, but there's a balance between joyful planning and actually seeing the life I'm currently in.
Namaste.
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