I mean, brothers and sisters, the appointed time has
grown short…For the present form of this world is passing away.
The passage above comes from Paul’s first epistle to the
Corinthians, which advises the members of that church on how to conduct
themselves in order to avoid sin and in the face of Jesus’s impending
return.
He hasn’t come back yet, but the line often comes to mind
when I feel that an end is drawing near.
Naturally, then, it’s been popping up in my thoughts this whole last
month. Here we are, a month of 2013
already behind, and a hair over four months of service remaining. I’ve been in Indonesia for close to two years
now, and the finish line is in sight. It
does feel as if the present form of my world shall soon begin to pass away.
Right now, the ship is skimming lightly over glassy
waters. Having begun my transition to
sustainability last semester, it honestly feels as if there is little left to
do at my school other than keep things running smoothly. Of course, there are some things to finish up
and I am not ready to leave today. Yet I
do not feel pressure to initiate any new, ambitious projects in order to
establish a “legacy”. With regard to
school, the first month of this final semester was probably more free of stress
than any month since I arrived. I
suppose that is as it should be.
Something I’ve learned: life as a PCV changes almost completely
over the course of service. Gone are the
days of feeling bewildered by local customs, angry at perceived injustice, or
high on empowerment. I’m like a broken
wing: unflappable.* Earlier in service, I could not envision developing a
routine like the one I’ve got now.
Everything is so normal. It’s odd to think about. Even the prospect of occasional trips to
Surabaya, where I can enjoy food and drink and liberty, no longer sets me afire
as it once did. It’s pleasant, no doubt,
but I don’t yearn for it.
Two years ago, I
could not imagine being this familiar with my environment. Sometime last semester, I started seeing this
place as my home, not just my site. The
significance is not just semantic.
Seeing my school and house as my home have changed the way I think about
everything. Service seems less like
service, and I feel less like a Volunteer.
The pervasive fervor of early days has cooled off, and I no longer even
notice many of the things that would have shocked or outraged me when I arrived. The clearest sign of the change, to me, is
the feeling that I have a life at work and a private life, and the two do not
need to overlap. When I was new here,
the two lives were completely tangled.
Work was life, life was work, and, in a way, the unity was beautiful. Everything happening to me on the inside was
a result of everything happening to me in my work.
As time has moved on, however, that unity has dissolved and I
have come to see my inner and outer lives as quite separate. There is one storyline at work and another
storyline in private, just as it was before PC.
This is what makes it feel like home.
It’s not the intense learning experience that it used to be…just the new
normal.
I am not sure how I feel about this. On the one hand it’s very comfortable, often
rather pleasant, and it’s a relief not to be burdened by stress in the
evenings. On the other, I am a
challenge-seeker, and I don’t know how long I can keep up feeling satisfied
doing something this easy. If I didn’t
know that the end was near, I would be feeling mighty restless. I’m not exactly itching to get out, but there
is a certain level of excitement building.
I want to know what comes next.
At least I’m not dying of anticipation. I feel pretty calm. In about six weeks I should hear back from
the five graduate programs I applied to.
I have submitted an application for extension of Peace Corps service as
well. Extending service is one option I
would like to have in the event that things don’t work out with grad schools. So, for all you kind people inclined to ask
me what I’m going to be doing after this stint of service is over: I will be
able to answer you in mid- to late-March.
I’m looking forward to having some answers.
* The exception to this equanimity is my unquenchable hatred
of most public buses and bus terminals, which are the domain of villains.
