(up)rooting

There's something about packing everything you need into a small suitcase that gets me every time. The slight bubbling excitement of arriving in a new place, of becoming completely anonymous and unknown to everyone; the chance to crumble up and start all over, an opportunity to rename and be renamed without previous conception or judgement. A feeling incredibly unnerving yet addictive, already I can feel myself growing accustomed to it- every few weeks, an itching in my legs, a pull that jolts me awake too early in the morning or keeps me from sleeping too late at night. This constant awareness of time passing and a need to follow along with it, and yet a different need also pulling in an opposite direction- the question I can only imagine comes from some Darwinian impulse to find home, to stay, to root and settle: Could I live here? Or rather, could I ever return to live here? It's a question that always arises, not towards the end of my stay, but rather at the beginning of the end. Just when I have become comfortable, but not too comfortable- Could I live here? The equal but opposite pulling is something I will get used to, I'm sure, as I make friends and acquaintences in each place I stay and then reduce them to an email, an occasional visit, a phone call, a myspace message. One friend who embarked on a similar fellowship told me that the return to a state of stationary living is one of the most difficult adjustments. I know my life after this fellowship will be changed, and I can imagine that change in particular will be a struggle for me. Because I've always loved starting over, I've always craved the clean slate. I know I've only just begun, but curiosity has me peering into the future- what will life be like, a year from now, when I try to root myself somewhere? Where will I be? And the excitement of knowing that I am currently on the path that will lead me to my future self, perhaps in an apartment somewhere, or a house, or a dorm room; perhaps still traveling. I've never been able to answer succinctly the question "Where do you see yourself in 5 years?" It would be more appropriately put "Where *don't* I see myself?" because the opportunities I will stumble upon (because the best ones present themselves unexpectedly) could be endless, varying, wildly obscure.

There are so many great things about this fellowship- the people I get to meet, the places I get to see, and the poetry, of course, the poetry. But one unexpected and delightful aspect, an aspect that no one told me about, is the opportunity to literally "try out" living in different cultures and climates. The opportunity to attempt to immurse myself in a country so much so that I would know what it's like to live there, not as a rich tourist or a priviledged student, but as a normal person. And then, after a few weeks or months, I get to throw it all back into my suitcase, get on a bus, train or airplane and start again somewhere else. Notebook full of notes, phone numbers, email addresses and the quiet promise of maybe someday returning. Of maybe someday I'll come back and stay for real.