I recall Flying home from Mindanao; I couldn’t unwind, I felt a huge discomfort in the pit of my stomach. I don’t think going into the trip I anticipated the personal transformation that I would be faced with. I want to hold onto so much and my fear is letting go of everything we saw, the people we met, and the stories we heard. My fear was that it all would be washed away once I arrived back in Monterey and that I wouldn’t try or be able to hold onto the experience.
We have it so good, it’s frustrating! The whole trip I tried to imagine my myself in another’s shoes but I couldn’t. What I imagined was me growing up there but not in discomfort. I saw myself walking through the lush green fields and enjoying the fresh fruits and roaming as I wish. My imagination took me so far away from their reality because I don’t know their reality, I can’t really picture it. Even while in the communities that have been the center of “all-out war” standing there talking about it, I didn’t feel. I want to say I have empathy and compassion and I care but I can’t claim to fully empathize and give myself that much credit because I just don’t know.
What I don’t know is what it feels like to be hungry, how much work it takes to put food on a table or how to pick yourself up when your home has been destroyed. I don’t know what I would do if I was in anyone else’s shoes and I wouldn’t feel right claiming that I do.
Arriving back in Monterey it was nice to be home to our pristine streets and story book neighborhoods but I still have a sense of discomfort in the pit of my stomach. I am not trying to get rid of it, in fact I am trying to hold onto it, it’s a reminder to take all the experiences we have had in those three weeks and do something with it.
