After writing yesterday's post, my mom sent me a really sweet email reminding me that there are all kinds of leaders in the world. And so I would just like to clarify a bit further some of the intent behind my writing.
Here at NYUAD, we hear a lot about how we will be "leading countries", how we are the "world's honors college", how many expectations are on us, and how "the world is watching".
It can get really hard to hear, because honestly, we know that there are so many others with the passion, drive, and intellect to be standing here with us. We were lucky, or fate intervened, or random events lined up, or we were blessed- whatever your belief systems fit in with. Being here, you can feel that none of us even know how we got here, why it is us learning and living here.
So much is asked of us, even in our bewilderment. And I think that is a good thing. It builds a work ethic and humility, and grounds you in a reality so you can sometimes evade the question of why. Yet it can also break you down, because we know that not everyone here will lead countries (there aren't enough countries for each of us to lead- not that we have ever thought about this). Not everyone will live up to the expectations placed on us.
There are those of us who never wanted to lead a country. We keep getting told to excel in whatever we plan on doing- whether that be doctor, lawyer, family-maker, president. It is sometimes forgotten we are college kids, living on our own for the first time, in a strange country, trying to do right, do well, and make all of those who helped us get here proud. We don't know what we are doing. We are just trying to "live in the attempt".
We know we have been given an amazing opportunity. Now everyone is watching to see what we do with it.
And as to not end on a slightly sad note, here is a poem I was introduced to while sitting in an airport after realizing we didn't have the right visas to go to India. It was before a long night of frantic applications, a squished drive to NYC, and excruciatingly, worrying long hours at another airport hoping that our passports would arrive in time for our flight. Those 36 hours put a lot of things about the trip back in perspective, and when I think of this poem, that is what I am reminded of. Sitting in an airport in Montreal, darkness falling outside of the windows, us in a circle, talking, writing, reading, thinking. Remembering that the goal of this trip wasn't for us to shop, or swim in a pool, but to make a difference in any small way we could, hoping for a ripple effect. And now it is also beginning to remind me, already, of NYUAD. It doesn't try to explain the question of why, but it does bring joy to the futility of finding an answer.
Alive Together - Lisel Mueller
Speaking of marvels, I am alive
together with you, when I might have been
alive with anyone under the sun,
when I might have been Abelard's woman
or the whore of a Renaissance pop
or a peasant wife with not enough food
and not enough love, with my children
dead of the plague. I might have slept
in an alcove next to the man
with the golden nose, who poked it
into the business of stars,
or sewn a starry flag
for a general with wooden teeth.
I might have been the exemplary Pocahontas
or a woman without a name
weeping in Master's bed
for my husband, exchanged for a mule,
my daughter, lost in a drunken bet.
I might have been stretched on a totem pole
to appease a vindictive god
or left, a useless girl-child,
to die on a cliff. I like to think
I might have been Mary Shelley
in love with a wrong-headed angel,
or Mary's friend. I might have been you.
This poem is endless, the odds against us are endless,
our chances of being alive together
statistically nonexistent;
still we have made it, alive in a time
when rationalists in square hats
and hatless Jehovah's Witnesses
agree it is almost over,
alive with our lively children
who--but for endless ifs--
might have missed out on being alive
together with marvels and follies
and longings and lies and wishes
and error and humor and mercy
and journeys and voices and faces
and colors and summers and mornings
and knowledge and tears and chance.
<3
Here at NYUAD, we hear a lot about how we will be "leading countries", how we are the "world's honors college", how many expectations are on us, and how "the world is watching".
It can get really hard to hear, because honestly, we know that there are so many others with the passion, drive, and intellect to be standing here with us. We were lucky, or fate intervened, or random events lined up, or we were blessed- whatever your belief systems fit in with. Being here, you can feel that none of us even know how we got here, why it is us learning and living here.
So much is asked of us, even in our bewilderment. And I think that is a good thing. It builds a work ethic and humility, and grounds you in a reality so you can sometimes evade the question of why. Yet it can also break you down, because we know that not everyone here will lead countries (there aren't enough countries for each of us to lead- not that we have ever thought about this). Not everyone will live up to the expectations placed on us.
There are those of us who never wanted to lead a country. We keep getting told to excel in whatever we plan on doing- whether that be doctor, lawyer, family-maker, president. It is sometimes forgotten we are college kids, living on our own for the first time, in a strange country, trying to do right, do well, and make all of those who helped us get here proud. We don't know what we are doing. We are just trying to "live in the attempt".
We know we have been given an amazing opportunity. Now everyone is watching to see what we do with it.
And as to not end on a slightly sad note, here is a poem I was introduced to while sitting in an airport after realizing we didn't have the right visas to go to India. It was before a long night of frantic applications, a squished drive to NYC, and excruciatingly, worrying long hours at another airport hoping that our passports would arrive in time for our flight. Those 36 hours put a lot of things about the trip back in perspective, and when I think of this poem, that is what I am reminded of. Sitting in an airport in Montreal, darkness falling outside of the windows, us in a circle, talking, writing, reading, thinking. Remembering that the goal of this trip wasn't for us to shop, or swim in a pool, but to make a difference in any small way we could, hoping for a ripple effect. And now it is also beginning to remind me, already, of NYUAD. It doesn't try to explain the question of why, but it does bring joy to the futility of finding an answer.
Alive Together - Lisel Mueller
Speaking of marvels, I am alive
together with you, when I might have been
alive with anyone under the sun,
when I might have been Abelard's woman
or the whore of a Renaissance pop
or a peasant wife with not enough food
and not enough love, with my children
dead of the plague. I might have slept
in an alcove next to the man
with the golden nose, who poked it
into the business of stars,
or sewn a starry flag
for a general with wooden teeth.
I might have been the exemplary Pocahontas
or a woman without a name
weeping in Master's bed
for my husband, exchanged for a mule,
my daughter, lost in a drunken bet.
I might have been stretched on a totem pole
to appease a vindictive god
or left, a useless girl-child,
to die on a cliff. I like to think
I might have been Mary Shelley
in love with a wrong-headed angel,
or Mary's friend. I might have been you.
This poem is endless, the odds against us are endless,
our chances of being alive together
statistically nonexistent;
still we have made it, alive in a time
when rationalists in square hats
and hatless Jehovah's Witnesses
agree it is almost over,
alive with our lively children
who--but for endless ifs--
might have missed out on being alive
together with marvels and follies
and longings and lies and wishes
and error and humor and mercy
and journeys and voices and faces
and colors and summers and mornings
and knowledge and tears and chance.
<3
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