Something BIG!!

Only a few minutes after my last post did I find an email in my inbox with an attached admission letter to the MA in Development Studies program at Mahatma Gandhi University in Kottayam, Kerala, India.  HA!  Very soon, indeed! 

What is big about that is this:  When I first looked into applying at MGU, it was for their MA in Gandhian Studies program.  What a unique opportunity to study something so uniquely Indian in India, right?  But then, admissions were delayed and I was informed that the date of the release of the application was even unknown.  In the meantime, of course I got anxious and applied to other schools.  But when another school application crashed and burned and I became more worried than ever, along came an email update from the department head at MGU informing me that the application was out (and due 3 days later).  I got it in via email and mailed it out with rush delivery within half a day.  As I was completing it, however, it was months after my original inquiry to their program and I had had some time to ponder whether it was a good idea for me to study Gandhian anything at a Masters level.  Probably not.  The other arm of the department is Development Studies (which I originally listed on my scholarship application) and that seemed much better-suited to me as a social worker with a lot of community and systems experience in the field.  Also, in the meantime, I had seen on their website that they were one of the first five Indian institutions to be awarded a grant from the new Obama-Singh Initiative.  And for some reason, I was on the website tonight (before knowing of my admission) and clicked on the link again to refresh my memory and what did I notice?  MGU was chosen to research "An Interdisciplinary and Community Oriented Approach toward Sustainable Development."  That oughtta be happening in the very department I will be studying in, I do believe!  So, basically, not only do I get to live in India, work on service projects, learn incredible information from an incredible institution, but I get to meet Barack Obama when he comes to survey the project!!  Okay, that last part is completely fictional.  Wink! 

Stay tuned.

Something Big

This means very little right now.  But very soon, I hope that it means something big. 

Obama-Singh 21st Century Knowledge Initiative Announces First Round of Awards

Ambassador

Tonight, my gut is wrenched and my mind races as I work to diminish my anger by attempting to make sense of a terrible thing. Earlier, I watched live on the news as domestic terrorism was enacted in my home state. A gunman killed 6, as well as himself, and injured 3 at a Sikh temple in Oak Creek, Wisconsin. Details of the gunman, the possible motives, nor the victims are yet being released. The FBI is involved. President Obama has issued a statement.

I have my assumptions about the gunman and his motives, and I’m trying to reserve them until we learn more. But it’s a challenge to keep my thoughts at bay.

So as I wait for more information, I’m left to think about me. And why it is that I want to dissect the gunman, and assume his agenda, and elaborate on what that says about our society, and point fingers at specific aspects & sectors of it that I think may have contributed to causing such illness in a person and pain to so many others. Why do I want to do all this? Because I want a solution. Or a recipe for a solution. I want to understand every single thing that ever happened to this man, every environmental factor, every thing that ever pushed him one centimeter closer to doing something like this. And I bet that in that list of things, I contributed in some way. I want to understand how I contributed so I can change that piece in me.  I don’t want to simply blame the media for violence, or politicians for not funding mental health care adequately, or citizens for not voting intelligent politicians into office. Yes, it's tempting to stop there. But I want to look at all of these factors, and then examine my relationship with each of them. What am I doing to further the power of the media? What can I do to encourage better mental health care availability? What is my approach when I am dissatisfied with the politics of my community and country? In the past, I’ve felt angry about all of these issues, and many more. The types of action that my anger and frustration led to were things like public protesting, sharing taglines, photos and videos on the Internet, and debating with others. I put my anger out there in such forms. But I later realized that this isn’t the way to change (realization likely sparked by much pondering of politics in the past year-and-a-half of living and voting in the political sphere of Wisconsin).

As I’m trying to figure out what is indeed the way to create change, I’ve realized something. I recently once stopped to reflect on what and who inspires me to change. Is it protestors holding clever signs? Is it friends posting angry statements on their facebook walls? Is it those I’ve engaged in debates with? It turns out that none of this inspires me to change. It may entertain me, or fuel my passion and anger, or create a sense of solidarity with other like-mindeds, but it does little to inspire a change in my perspective or actions. It only has burrowed me deeper into my stagnant rut, really. And I realized that what does most-dramatically inspire me to change and open up to new perspectives, are people who first enact peace within themselves - the individuals who humbly live their peace and values, and reflect love and understanding onto others with grace. This summarizes the commonality I find in the heroic line-up of amazing individuals who’ve most inspired me in life. And this line-up is not composed of celebrities or historic figures. It’s made up of ordinary individuals who have touched my heart in this life. And this leads me to believe that we can all be this kind of ordinary, yet ispiring, individual for someone else. And if our society is composed of more people striving for peace, love and congruence within, we can impact people like today’s suspect more profoundly than we can by outwardly holding signs, arguing, or blaming politicians. And that is our impact. As a community, we all feel the pain of today’s tragedy. And as a community, we are called to work within ourselves toward eliminating the factors that aided this man in feeling like this is something he had to do.

Peace and religious harmony come about through taking action, not necessarily through making prayers and good wishes.  In order to carry action out, enthusiasm is very important, and enthusiasm comes from being clear about our goal and the possibility of our fulfilling it.  Here, we need educate young people about our ultimate goal, peace in the world, and how to fulfill it by cultivating inner peace within themselves. - Dalai Lama

I wondered today if the news of this incident would be spreading widely throughout India, as I plan to soon make it my home for a year, thanks to my “Ambassadorial” scholarship. As an ambassador of peace and goodwill, as my scholarship duties state (and personal beliefs concur), I did not anticipate discussing such a tragic and violent act, especially originating from my home state. It is customary for Ambassadorial Scholars to give presentations to clubs and groups while abroad and I'll be sharing cultural information focused on my state. I didn’t expect anyone in the audience to have ever heard of Wisconsin before. But after visiting the Times of India website today and seeing that this is the top story, I have a feeling that people will have heard of Wisconsin by the time I get there. And while I feel weary at the thought of representing Wisconsin in relation to today’s tragedy, I also can see how it is a greater opportunity, rather, to help people understand that what happened today does not represent Wisconsin. Today I was most touched when my family members and neighbors first and foremost expressed empathy as a response to today’s tragedy. My family members and neighbors are not Sikhs, and may have never heard of Sikhism before. But instead of expressing thoughts and feelings about our differences, they instead expressed sorrow, love and understanding for those affected. Everyone I spoke with about it today went immediately to a place of empathy. It was a resounding sense of “we.” It was a beautiful surprise. And that is what I get to represent to those I meet along my way.

The Divine in Me Bows to the Divine in You, Madison

I'm just wrapping up my last day in Madison.  It was beautiful.  Tomorrow marks the 1st of August, 2012 and a new moon reveals herself. 

It's strange.  My goodbyes seem unreal.  Unemployment seems unreal.  Newness seems unreal.  Nothing is what it was a short time ago.  It all feels temporary, or like some distant thing that someone told me about.  Except one comforting thing:  I still feel like me. 

I cannot make sense of any of it.  I feel like, at this point, I should have a greater understanding about life.  A greater understanding about what to look for, what to avoid, how life works, whether I'm big or small, selfish or selfless - that sort of thing.  And I'm often frustrated when I realize that I don't have those answers. Nothing to write down on paper.  Or, I don't think I do.  But at the same time, when I have the clarity to see all this, I notice that I'm living differently every day, indicative of some learning about something.  I'm taking risks.  I'm vulnerable.  I'm softer.  I'm open.  I'm treasuring my time with loved ones.  I'm feeling blessed.  I'm lighter.  I'm cherishing sunsets and breezes and seeing people laugh & smile.  I'm accepting support.  I'm breaking down silly parts of me.  I'm taking care of my well-being.  I'm pausing before reacting.  I'm forgiving myself.  I'm homeless and jobless with no solid plan, but maintaining optimism (most of the time) and not having a panic attack.  Seriously, that's huge!

I just heard an owl outside (insert random moment of feeling blessed).  Go ahead.  Roll your eyes.  ;)

I spent my final Madison evening at the Union.  It was open-mic night.  As I scanned the crowd for my Union date, who but a dear friend unknowingly walked toward me.  When I think of the Union, I think of this friend so it was a pretty uncanny and fun coincidence that she was there on a Tuesday evening.  She was on her way out, so we shared a tearful moment as I told her that it was my last night in Madison. 

Well, there was a mix-up with my Union plans but when my friend didn't make it, somehow some very special people appeared before me.  Some lovely-coworkers-slash-dear-friends joined me at the Terrace instead.  These poor people have said about 15 damn goodbyes to me already.  I feel so terrible but instead of rolling their eyes at my ever-changing story, they are so loving and supportive.  It was really nice.  Tonight's sunset was one of the most beautiful I've seen in a long time and a gift to be viewing over the glassy surface of Lake Mendota, broken up by peaceful-looking sailboats, with a surprising and delightful violin/beatbox combination soothing my ears in the background.  A truly Madison send-off.  I love you, Madison.  I know there will never be another place quite like you in my heart, but it's time for us to part. 

Gloves Back On

I decided today that I've got a little more fight in me.  My progress on the application process at one university is at a standstill.  I wait.  For an email, I think.  Classes begin August 8th.  If I get my email in the next 5 days or so, maybe I can whisk myself away in time, but it won't be pretty.  So that has involved a lot of anguish, and guarantees only more in the near future.  And with such anguish comes a point where I ask myself if it's all worth it.  Is it healthy.  What. Do. I. Do.

I swing from optimistic and hopeful to devastated many times throughout each day.  And it takes its toll.  I don't want to be ignorant of my own health and well-being, just to commit to this.  And I also don't want to miss out on a gigantic opportunity that I'll not be able to reclaim later. 

And maybe this is just one of my optimistic moments.  I don't know.  I never know what emotion the next moment will bring.

I've been up since 4:30am.  I noticed an email I received at about 2am on my phone.  It was from one of the universities I was previously interested in.  I had given up hope with that university because they kept saying that their admissions were delayed, with no further information or guesstimate as to when they might begin processing.  I have been distracted by the application process with another university over the past two months and now I get an email from the head of the Gandhian Thought & Development Studies department at this other university.  He remembered me.  It's nice to feel like I have options again, and maybe a little more time.  I couldn't fall back asleep so I got up to do my application.  Mind you, the app is due July 30th and today is the 27th.  And India is a day ahead.  So I'm given 2 days to get my paperwork across the world.  But hopefully they'll accept my emailing of documents while the paper copies traverse continents.  There's that hope again.  She always comes around. 

Oh My...

Oh my, indeed.

Today is the 25th of July and I am only an inch closer to making it to India, with classes beginning August 8th.  I don't know how this is all still possible either, but I maintain that it is somehow.

About a week or two ago (the days run together now that I'm no longer doing the 9-5 gig), Jay and I zipped ourselves up to Oshkosh to visit North High School and get my transcript in person, after the school secretary said that she had both mailed and emailed me copies over a week prior.  I received neither and didn't trust that I'd get them in the near future so off we were, enjoying that ride through the corn fields.  Returning to the halls of my school was quite strange.   We also toured my old neighborhood, the lake area, Main Street, and enjoyed some local frozen custard.  Upon our return to Madison that afternoon, I thought I'd go check my PO box quick and you know what adorable little parcel was snuggled up against a catalog in there?  My high school transcript.  An immediate smack in the face that we had wasted a trip, gas money, and a day.  But, Jay was incredible, patient and showed kind interest in my childhood.  We actually had a great day together, despite the nonsense.

Two days later, we were off and running to Chicago to flash my complete set of papers before the Indian Consulate so they would attest them and I could ship them off to the Association of Indian Universities in New Delhi.  Simple.  The Consulate is open from 9:30am-12:30pm for such business.  We arrived at about 11 (not optimal timing, but our morning start was a bit rough).  At the window, a man notified me that my diplomas and transcripts first must be authenticated by the Department of State.  What?  Yes, I did read about this on the Consulate website, but when I emailed their office about it, I had understood that that piece was waived in my particular instance.  I had understood incorrectly, and when I showed proof of this email (so organized) to a woman who then came to the window, she pointed out that I was asking about a university application, not diplomas/transcripts, and that is a different matter.  Ah yes.  She said that if I could get the items authenticated by the Department of State at such-and-such address downtown Chicago today, she would allow me to come back between 4-5pm today to re-attempt.  It was a Friday, so we had no option to stay overnight and finish matters the next day (note to anyone trying to do anything like this in the future: don't pick a Friday!).  We went out into the hallway and I found the number for the Department of State in Chicago and gave them a call, only to be told that they do not do such authenticating and that I must work with the Washington, D.C. office.  A moment of utter, gut-punch defeat as I leaned into the wall behind me and sunk down to the marble floor of the NBC Tower.  This means I would have to mail things to DC, if they accept it via postal mail, then wait for them to return my documents, then return to Chicago, which certainly would not be possible in time for August 8 commencement of classes.  The end.  I thought.  But something in me yearned for the comfort of a Madisonian who would know what they're talking about, so I then called the Wisconsin Department of State and explained the situation.  The woman there said that in Wisconsin, they can do the authentication at her office, but only for documents issued by Wisconsin schools, meaning that I would have to go to Minneapolis for my Minnesota diploma.  Again, defeat.  But this incredible woman thought it through and noted that it would be odd for Illinois not to be able to help.  She looked up the phone number for the Secretary of State for Illinois and passed it along to me to try.  It was different than the number I had called and when I tried it, I learned that I had probably called the Federal Department of State the first time.  The Illinois Secretary of State official said they could do it (for all universities, regardless of state!) and I could come by today.  It was about a mile away and the car was parked in a ramp costing me a fortune, so I didn't want to yank it out only to pay another fortune in another ramp, so we walked it.  We thought we had a bit of time.  We even walked through Taste of Chicago, which was going on in Grant Park, though a bit out of our way, but we were hungry and opportunistic regarding such timing of our trip with a city festival.  But lines for food tickets were insane so we headed back toward our destination.  Once we got to the Secretary of State's offices, the gentleman at the window informed me that I would need to have all of my documents notarized first.  Seriously?  So he gave us a map to a place that would do it.  But on the way we found a Bank of America where I have a loan.  Sweet glory.  Bank of America.  It was about 4 blocks away, rather than the 8 blocks away to the other place, which we later realized was a critical distance to any successes of the day.  Because of the need for duplicate copies, I had about fourteen documents to be notarized and I had to hand-write "I certify that this is an original document signed by Jessica Haven on July whatever, 2012" and write lines for his signature and title and my signature.  It seemingly took forever, the clock was ticking, and our stomachs were gurgling.  And of course, BoA Paul had to try to sell me a checking account, you know, "for when you return from India," while I tried my best to be gracious and pretend that I was in any shape to think of where I'd be or what I'd be doing upon my return from a place I was failing to even get to.  Eventually we made it out of there, just in time for a downpour of rain and raucous thunder.  We never thought to check the weather so we just had shorts, tee shirts, sandals and a backpack.  No umbrella, jackets, sweatshirts, whatnot.  But that didn't stop us.  Hunger did, so we dashed across the street to a Panera hoping that they had gluten-free soups, but they did not.  The counter person was even so kind to look through the binder of recipes for an excruciatingly long period of time.  Jay grabbed a hot chocolate for a little short-term sustenance and we were off, running back to the Dept. of State.  On our brows, sweat and raindrops were indistinguishable.  Our clothes wetly clung to our bodies as we dodged pedestrians.   At one point, Jay is lagging behind but shouts with struggled gasps of breath that I should keep running and he'll catch up.  I later find out he tripped and injured his foot.  Jay caught up to me as I waited for an elevator back at the Dept. of State building.  We board the elevator and all is silent and slow for a few moments, as if nothing is the matter.  I attempt composure as I place my wet hair behind my ears.  Back at the window, I hand everything over, and the man tells me that my documents are not notarized correctly.  Blinking raindrops from my eyelashes, I'm in disbelief.  He gives me a sample of how it should be worded exactly and I'm running through the streets again back to BoA.  Literally, I'm running along the side of the street to avoid pedestrian congestion on the sidewalks, but hitting many a puddle and noticing the stinging feeling of blisters forming on my feet.  In the meantime, somehow Jay shouted out a plan amongst the crowds, vehicles and chaos that he'd stop at Chipotle to get us food, then TJ Maxx to get a towel and umbrella, and meet me back at the Dept. of State.  I made it back to BoA Paul and explained the matter.  I had to, once again, write a statement on each of my 14 documents for him to sign.  It pained me to have all of this scribbling on my official high school and college diplomas, but I knew that someday when my WSU diploma is back in its frame, I might just be proud of the extra scribbling if it means I got my ass to India.  As Paul is signing, I notice that it's 3:12pm and the Dept. of State office closes at 3:30.  C'mon, Paul.  Please don't try to sell me a savings account.  I'm off.  My swiftest running and dodging of the day occurred during this time.  I hear some shouting but keep running, but eventually I realize it's Jay when he catches up to me.  He had a hot burrito and a dry towel in a bag in one hand and a shiny new umbrella in the other.  We continued to run, run, run and made it to that elevator once more.  The towel came in handy.  I got to the window with minutes to spare and turned my documents in.  I was asked to wait then while they would be processed.  Jay and I rested and I began to devour some food, but soon found that I felt ill from trying to eat amidst such chaos.  And within about ten minutes I was called back and given my documents with the most beautiful gold sticker affixed to each one of them.  Muah!  The longest stretch was ahead, back about a mile to the Indian Consulate.  Our next mission was to hail a cab.  We were both cab-hailing virgins.  We awkwardly attempted, and then took advantage of a cab stopped in traffic, already containing a passenger with his window rolled down.  I approached the window and made my plea that he share his cab.  He noted that his stop was only a block away so he wouldn't mind walking it and got out for us.  The cabbie laughed and said that no one is ever that cooperative.  A short cab-ride later and we were back at the Indian Consulate.  My god.  It must have been about 4:30.  Everything happened with no time to spare throughout the day.  I got to the window right away and was so disorganized with my documents that the woman suggested I step away to gather things up and return when I was ready.  I did so, sorting my duplicate piles and returned.  Another Consulate employee came by and joked around with me, having me toss a coin regarding the fate of my documents, and it was comforting.  The woman took my money and documents and stamped them all up as attested and sent me on my way.  Wow.  It was done.  That woman was my savior that day.

Jay and I didn't really know what to do with ourselves after that.  We were still rather hungry and super fatigued.  I had planned to find a FedEx to ship everything off to Delhi but thought I could do it the next day.  Jay generously insisted that I do it today, to have it completed.  I think he's picked up on how I like to push, push, push to get things done in one shot, rather than take breaks, be patient, etc. so this was him, once again, being SuperBF.  Across the bridge was a FedEx in a hotel lobby.  I made copies of everything and got it in the mail right before they closed at 5:30.  We might have exchanged a high five after this.  We then collapsed in the lobby and discussed our plan.  We decided to spend the night and try to relax and enjoy some of Chicago instead of driving home and Jay hooked us up with a very slick Priceline deal.  The hotel we got was smack in the center of downtown so we could enjoy a nice dinner and a day of museums, parks and Taste of Chicago the following day.  That, we pretty much did.  In fact, there may have been some overindulgence that hit the pocketbook, but oh well.  A few other things to mention...  At the Field Museum the next day, I got to push injured-Jay through it in a wheelchair.  There's a cute photo of that.  And we topped our Saturday off with dinner and sweets on Devon Avenue where all the Indian businesses are.  Jay even successfully haggled over the price of some Bollywood DVDs he bought for his mom for her birthday.  We also picked up some fresh, exotic vegetables from a grocer which his grandmother enthusiastically prepared for us a couple days later in Madison.  Yummmm.  Jay was an incredible source of strength and reassurance all day, not to mention how heroically and selflessly he ran around the city with me, only to assist me in leaving him for a year.  I'm a very grateful girlfriend and experienced some teary moments in the streets of Chicago related to all that.

So that's that saga.  Next steps are to hear back from the Association of Indian Universities and have them send my equivalency results to Amrita University, hoping for an admission letter so I can return to Chicago to apply for my visa.  Oh, we'll see! 

Marco! .....Polo!

I'm getting warmer.

The past ten months have been chaotic in almost every which way, but let's isolate just one aspect for now.  I've really struggled to coordinate with universities in India for a very long time now.  Application processes, timelines and access to information regarding these very important details have been next to impossible to nail down.  We certainly do things quite differently in the way that we apply for higher education in the US.  In the US, you can expect to get almost all of your questions answered through a university website.  This has not been true in the least in my experience with Indian universities.  So I'm learning as I go.  And today is an optimistic day.  It's now three minutes into July 11th.  Classes at my university of choice in India begin on August 8th.  I have no admissions letter, no visa, no scholarship money, no flight ticket, no idea what date I'll leave, I'm officially unemployed, and I have no place to live post-July 31st.  My making it to India seems to hinge on obtaining a simple (and unnecessary, in my red, white and blue opinion) high school transcript.  Who knew?  You know - Just in case I got through college and earned a Bachelor of Science degree without truly making it through high school.

A dozen times a day I'm asked by friends, family and aquaintances when it is that I'm leaving and I impishly respond with a big fat IDK.  And every time I part with company, we go through the same schpeel about whether it's our last goodbye or not.  But I'm onto something, I think.  My school of choice is so great to work with.  I've found one school (of dozens I've researched and contacted) where the faculty and staff patiently listen to me as I attempt to enunciate my queries over the telephone sans Wisconsin accent.  They are so gracious and patient.  They know my name when I call.  They have an application requirement, however, which is leading me on quite the scavenger hunt.  I must gather all of my high school and college diplomas, transcripts and accreditation information and take it to the Indian Consulate in Chicago where they will "attest" the documents.  That's some sort of verification/signature thing, I believe.  I then must mail it all off to New Delhi to an educational body which will determine the equivalency of my education in India.  Mailing something like this to India takes about 7 days minimum for a cost of about $65.  I'm such a cheap-ass so paying that much to mail a manila envelope twists me up inside.  Once they make the equivalency determination, they must send their findings to the university in Kerala (probably like mailing something from New York to California, with some added random, unforeseeable inefficiencies).  Only then can they offer me a provisional admission letter, which I need in order to apply for my visa (which takes another 8-12 days to process) and scholarship funds to be released to my bank account.  One stinking high school transcript determines my fate.

Last week I drove up to my mom's to dig through her basement for my high school and college diplomas.  I was devastated to find that my college diploma was MIA.  By a stroke of luck and assistance of another kind soul, I found it two days later (such sweet, glorious relief!).  But now I'm missing this dumb transcript.  And I called and requested it two weeks ago and have been leaving messages ever since to try to find out what the hold up is.  It's probably scribbled on a Post-It Note on the corner of someone's piled-up desk, waiting to be attended to by a guidance counselor in Oshkosh, Wisconsin.  So, instead of driving to Chicago tomorrow to figure this out, I think I'm Oshkosh-bound.  Ah, it sounds like the dreamiest of road trips.  Though I'm being sarcastic, I have reached a point where almost anything feels nostalgic along my path each day, as I know that I'll long for even the simplest comforts of home at some point when I'm gone.  So maybe I just might enjoy a drive through the corn fields, a trip to Leon's Frozen Custard, a jaunt through the old Pick N Save to see who never made it out, and a cruise past the home of my first 17 years of growing as I wonder what the Jessica of then would think of the Jessica of now.  She had no idea of the rousings she was to stir up in life. 

Sometimes it's as if this document procurement labyrinth is part of the farewell process.  A demand to experience home and loved ones for the last times before I go.  A chance to pause and intermittently appreciate the small, familiar, often-overlooked things despite the chaos all around.