Scotland
I have been mulling the idea for this entry around in my head for a couple weeks. For one of my classes, I have been volunteering at a local pregnancy aid center-a place that services pregnant women who have no health care. The woman who directs the center is from Scotland and in a conversation the other day she asked about my necklace. I got this heart-shaped Celtic necklace as a parting gift three years ago from the staff at St Colms which was the organization that housed my class that went to Scotland in 2005. I put it on soon after and haven’t taken it off very many times since then. I haven’t really given much thought to why I wear it until recently. Though the people who gave it to me (and they gave one to every woman in our group) are special, they aren’t that special to inspire this kind of dedication. It is sterling silver which means I can wear it anywhere, in the shower, in the pool, etc, and it still looks the same as the day I got it, so it’s kind of practical. But I guess I just always wore it because it was an outward symbol of the small part of me that was always dedicated to Scotland. A visual sign of the experience and devotion that I carried with me everywhere-to work, to school, on vacation, to the dentist, to weddings, under my NPS uniform, to bed, and anywhere else I happened to go. It’s hard to explain the changes that happened in me in Scotland, and though both trips were very different experiences, I grew in immeasurable ways. There’s something about having gone through such periods of intense personal growth that, at least for me, bound me to the place body and soul. When I was there I felt stimulated and interesting. I felt I was contributing to my development and becoming more confident, intelligent, and a better person. It was a place that made me feel good in all the ways it needed to and satisfied me in ways that anything rarely had. It is hard to let go of an experience so profoundly changing and it is almost like a drug-induced high; you want to keep the feeling going. After it was over, Scotland became a place of longing-a place I knew I could belong and a place I always longed for when I felt things weren’t working out or I wasn’t doing anything that stimulated me or pushed me in any way. There were times when I lived in Olympia and later Wenatchee, when all I could think about was how do I get back to Scotland, back to a place that offered me so much beauty and knowledge and stimulation? How do I get back the feeling I once had there? I longed for it like nothing else. Anything that crossed my path with any hint of Scotland-a passing accent, a wail of a bagpipe, a Utili-kilt, a Scottish games, a band, a beer, anything-gave my heart a little flutter as I got nostalgic about a different time and place. A place that I knew if I could just get to again, everything in my life would be perfect and would be meaningful.
Now I am here in a new phase of my life in an area that has so much to offer. I am learning my way through a new city. I am making new friends who know my field. I am meeting people from all over the world. I have new projects to explore and new things to try. This has, by far, been the easiest adjustment to make in my life. As I listen to the music by Scottish artists that I have carried with me through Scotland and other places and their albums that I have heard a hundred times, the feeling I felt while listening to them is more muted now than it used to be. I recognize this I wonder: Is it finally time to put Scotland away?
Is it time to put it away in that metaphorical box I keep other experiences in, like meaningful times in high school, or freshman year in college, or other childhood memories-things that one can’t keep reliving, but things that are kept as building blocks of one’s development? I’m making it sound like I haven’t been able to move on in the last 3 or so years because of this, and I’ve always thought I’d moved on pretty well, but maybe it hasn’t been well enough? Maybe I needed to hold on to that more than I realized at the time. I always resisted letting Scotland become a “place of my youth”, a place that I would only look on nostalgically instead of reinventing it and keeping it relevant to all the stages of my life, but maybe that’s not possible anymore or even necessary. I always wanted Scotland to be a part of my future, but maybe it will just have to stay in the past so that other doors don’t close on me. Maybe it’s time to let go.
Now I am here in a new phase of my life in an area that has so much to offer. I am learning my way through a new city. I am making new friends who know my field. I am meeting people from all over the world. I have new projects to explore and new things to try. This has, by far, been the easiest adjustment to make in my life. As I listen to the music by Scottish artists that I have carried with me through Scotland and other places and their albums that I have heard a hundred times, the feeling I felt while listening to them is more muted now than it used to be. I recognize this I wonder: Is it finally time to put Scotland away?
Is it time to put it away in that metaphorical box I keep other experiences in, like meaningful times in high school, or freshman year in college, or other childhood memories-things that one can’t keep reliving, but things that are kept as building blocks of one’s development? I’m making it sound like I haven’t been able to move on in the last 3 or so years because of this, and I’ve always thought I’d moved on pretty well, but maybe it hasn’t been well enough? Maybe I needed to hold on to that more than I realized at the time. I always resisted letting Scotland become a “place of my youth”, a place that I would only look on nostalgically instead of reinventing it and keeping it relevant to all the stages of my life, but maybe that’s not possible anymore or even necessary. I always wanted Scotland to be a part of my future, but maybe it will just have to stay in the past so that other doors don’t close on me. Maybe it’s time to let go.