Mostly Pictures.

Back in Delhi after two solid months in Rajasthan, the आराम (rest) is setting in. My body and mind have collapsed into the luxury of a nice metro within walking distance, delicious coffee and food around every corner, and large trees and greenery lining every road and path. Natalie arrives on Sunday night, and thanks to a good friend from the program, we have a very nice place to stay near Lodhi Gardens.

My summer in Jaipur was really incredible--great fellow students, encouraging faculty, and delightful (though sometimes overwhelming) exposure to Hindi and Rajasthani culture. The American Institute of Indian Studies has developed a truly fantastic program, and while I'm glad for the break until September, I look forward to continuing my journey into Hindi language and culture during the academic year.

I met a number of farmers this summer, and observed various farming practices and landscapes all across Rajasthan--a predominantly arid and semi-arid state in Western-most India. In these few but valuable discussions, water topped the list of important issues these farmers face. This wasn't surprising, but as I've stated before, putting faces and names to these regions which are impacted by drought and volatile weather has been important and motivating for my research. Several of these farmers planted fewer crops and utilized less area (sometimes up to half-as-much less) this year due to a delayed monsoon. The smaller farmers didn't seem to have many options to make up for these losses aside from relying on family to get by this year. One farmer (with more land than the others I spoke with) was able to obtain a state government loan to get through this year. When asked what would happen if drought or delayed monsoon persisted one or two more years, he looked at the ground and said he would lose everything and be incapable of repaying the loan. While these conversations aren't enough to build a thesis on, or publish anything in an academic journal, they are enough to keep me thinking about climate change as it applies to Indian farmers and agriculture. These are the people who shape my questions about the impacts of climate change and changing weather patterns.

Highlights from summer excursions:

• Pushkar (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Brahma_Temple,_Pushkar)--A city situated a few hours from Jaipur and a pilgrimage site for many. Brahma's most famous temple dating to the 14th century sits by a beautiful lake. We wandered the streets, visited the temple, and rested on the Ghats as mantras were chanted to drum rhythms at sunset. 
• On the way back to Jaipur from Pushkar, we stopped at the Tilonia Barefoot College (http://www.tilonia.com/). There, we had a tour of their solar panel workshop, solar cookers, textiles work, and efficient irrigation systems.
• Jaisalmer (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jaisalmer)--A famous desert city in far West Rajasthan. We visited a famous Jain Temple, wherein there were seven chambers with elaborate sandstone carvings and sculptures. We also rode camels and spent a night in the Thar Desert National Park. Though quite an uncomfortable night sleeping in the sand, the stars were vibrant and enumerable.
• Sawai Madhopur & Ranthambore National Park (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ranthambore_National_Park)--I took a trip with an Indian friend to Sawai Madhopur on the border of Madhya Pradesh State. We visited a famous Ganesh temple and went on a 15 km hike through the jungle. About half way, we reached some cliffs where the Suleshvar Shiva temple resides. We climbed up, bathed in the holy water, and watched pilgrims make "puja" (worship) and perform "arthi" (chanting mantras in Sanskrit). While we spotted no tigers, in the last leg of our hike, we saw a Nilgai, which may be one of the more fascinating animals I've ever seen. The body was akin to that of a moose, the head that of a small deer with pronghorn antlers, and the color blue-grey. I wasn't able to capture it in a photo but it was an amazing sight. 

Below are pictures from these various outings:

Ranthambore National Park

Ganesh Temple

Suleshvar Shiva Temple

Jaisalmer

 Thar Desert National Park

Tilonia Barefoot College

Gardisar Lake-Jaisalmer

Tilonia--Solar Panel Workshop

Pushkar

Flower farmer with a few dairy cows

Jaipur Streets

The Move to Jaipur--Beginning a year in the "Pink City"

My, how time has flown since I left the States nearly a month ago. It's all been a rush. I left Arkansas on June 2nd, and flew to Delhi from Nashville on June 14th. I stayed at the American Institute of Indian Studies (AIIS) guest house for a few nights, and then they bused us (about 30 students) to Jaipur, which is typically a five hour drive, but took us a mere twelve. 

AIIS arranged housing in Jaipur beforehand, so I moved into my flat within a day of arrival. My roommate is a French PhD student from Cornell, whose research focuses on agrarian politics in Uttar Pradesh, so it couldn't be a better fit for the summer program.  

Natalie will arrive in mid-August, and interestingly, I think my apartment here is nicer than anywhere Natalie and I have lived since we got married. It's spacious, within a kilometer of the institute, and we have A/C and a water filter. The apartment is on a quiet street, and around the corner from a local market called Janta Store. I get all of my fruits, vegetables, and staples there, and occasionally drop by Sanjay's for one of the best omelettes I've had, or by the ice cream shop for some respite from the heat. 

India's an imposing place--it interrupts stereotypes, peals back cultural layers, and shakes world views. One is welcomed into a world of questions, prodding, and self-searching, which is the perfect environment for a young, somewhat naive researcher. My research--focused on climate change, drought, and shifting agriculture production--has at times felt distant, technological, and disconnected from people on the ground. Being here changes that notion. This is where it happens; these are people affected by what I'm studying. It's unlikely that I'll make some great discovery which changes large-scale outcomes, but if I can add an iota to what's already been done, and it has some positive effect, I will have accomplished what I set out to do.

Daily life here is busy for us. We have Hindi courses 20 hours per week, along with another 20 hours or so of homework. It's an incredible amount of work, and very exhausting. We learn a great deal very quickly, and like studying anything, the more one learns, the more one realizes how much there is to learn.

Below are some pictures from the first few weeks:

Thoughts for now and tomorrow.

It's been four months and one half since we landed on US soil. Upon our return, I took the GRE again. Though frazzled on the second math section, I pulled my scores to the lower end of acceptability for top tier schools. Natalie and I had our first Christmas with family. After the dust settled from traveling between Memphis and Murfreesboro, I sent off my final graduate school applications. I applied to an array of programs--UC Santa Cruz, Environmental Studies (PhD); CU-Boulder, Environmental Studies (PhD) and Political Science (PhD); Yale, Environmental Science (MS); Cornell, Environmental Science (MS); SUNY-ESF, Environmental Studies, MS; and the University of Arkansas, Environmental Dynamics (PhD). 

After it all shook out, I received funded offers from Santa Cruz, Arkansas, and the Political Science program at Boulder. I also made it on the wait list at Yale (which I should hear about soon) and got accepted into SUNY with potential for funding. Arkansas offered an incredibly generous four year fellowship. Given the style of the program, professors, funding, and location, we decided on Arkansas. 

I will complete an MA in Geography, predominantly studying GIS and cartography, and then undertake coursework and research for the PhD in Environmental Dynamics. When all is said and done, I suspect it will take me 5-6 years to complete my doctorate. Most of my ideas center on using GIS and geoinformatics to assess food insecurity and evaluating how natural resource management may (or may not) affect this insecurity. I'm still batting around thoughts about location. I want to make this research meaningful for practitioners, which may be the real challenge in all of this. Why spend four years working on something that has no impact on the way we are solving or trying to solve problems on the ground? Thus, it may be best to concentrate on one country, or depending on what I find in my Master's thesis, research a handful of geographically contrasting regions across several factors. For now, my interest spreads from Laos to the Horn of Africa, and from there to Honduras. I'm certain it will become more apparent with time, but given the status of Arkansas' program in Near East Studies, I'll probably continue/revive my study of Arabic.

What will I do after this? I could pursue a range of occupations. I have a path for now, and the next five or six years, but after that, the world is my oyster. The US Foreign Service might be an option for someone with expertise in GIS and food security issues. I would bet corporate and NGO interest in geographers and persons with knowledge about food security will only increase as time progresses. These are all viable options but beyond them all, I see myself preparing for the professoriate. Tenure track placement will be my chief pursuit. It is the reason one pursues a doctorate--to research, to teach, to travel, to expand one's breadth and depth in a particular body of knowledge and espouse that expertise among both colleagues and the next generation of scholars and practitioners. 

So practically, I must envision the next five years as my gateway to that position, which inevitably creates some anxiety, forcing me to think through the logistics of how to get where I want to go in such a competitive field. Year one: make up for my deficiencies in Geography and attend an academic conference in which I plan to present during year two; narrow my thesis, make it operational and begin data mining to build a literature review; apply for Master's research grants. Year two: complete coursework for the Geography MA; present initial findings at an academic conference. Year three: Fulbright fellowship overseas; complete the thesis during Fulbright; get the thesis published as a book, or in an academic journal. Year four: work through the Environmental Dynamics coursework; present at another academic conference; apply for multiple fellowships to fund my dissertation work. Year five: pass qualifying exams; present at another conference; continue working on dissertation. Year six: dissertation completion; perhaps another overseas fellowship. Year seven/eight: tenure track placement and/or post-doctoral fellowship.

That's a long time and a lot of hard work. I'll have to find ways to decompress, relax my thoughts, and enjoy life. Three things I'd like to do outside of school: a regular and varied workout routine, small-scale wood work and carpentry, and fishing, particularly fly-fishing. Outdoor pursuits have always kept me centered and healthy on an emotional and psychological level. These things will keep me grounded and hopefully well-versed in things outside of the academy.

I've been internalizing all of these thoughts for months with little time to write in between remodeling homes with my father-in-law. Today was perfect to let it all fizzle out on paper, mainly to clear my head and enjoy where I'm at and what I'm doing.

Work, Values, & the Road Ahead

As my last post described, I have been in the midst of an intense time at work. For over two months, I've struggled (with help) to finish the building phase of the soybean mill, complete commissioning production, and more recently, take on the first soybean harvest in Iraq. The challenges have been numerous and overwhelming in each of these projects. I have been forced back in time and into myself, specifically to reflect on the concept of work. Not just work as labor capital, or an economic exchange, but work as it relates to the soul, the body, natural processes and cycles. 

I began working when I was quite young, hauling hay at age eleven, and eventually running my own landscaping business by the time I graduated from high school. Odd jobs were never lacking. Building decks, cleaning horse stalls, and random construction projects often took priority over school work. I liked having money to pay for gas, play billiards, go to tractor-pulls, and buy tobacco--all the "rebellious" things a rural Tennessee kid desires. Besides the money, I remember manual labor feeling much more satisfying than sitting in a classroom. After all, we had class to learn about things I might never pursue or use, things that were suppose to provide me opportunity down the road. And those opportunities would then turn into money, stuff, prestige, and if I was lucky, power. (They didn't say it this way, but it was the subliminal message.) 

I don't despise education at all. For those that know me, I am now passionate about learning and increasing opportunity as I increase in knowledge. However, the precepts taught in high school are out of step; success is defined in the wrong terms and thus the path to get there is misconstrued. Our society has taught us that work can only be valued by the money which is derived in exchange for it. I think this notion is fundamentally false, based purely on economic theory and reasoning. Indeed, we can place a dollar value on work, and doing so can grant insight into the economic dealings which dictate much of our lives. Economics is a valuable discipline, but cannot stand on its own. We value things this way, perhaps at the most basic level, because we are absolutely convinced that money will bring about happiness and make our dreams come true.  

Two interconnected issues arise from this premise. The first is that increasingly, we are undervaluing things and people around us due to our inadequate system of valuation. Biodiversity is shrinking because we cannot assume something's value just for the fact that it exists. Seniors have no value because they are no longer able to provide what they once could to push the economy forward. According to the economy and the economist, they are invalids. Yet, I imagine if we spent time delving into their life experiences and knowledge we might find an incredible store of wisdom; it is likely less related to making money and being successful, and more related to the quality of life one is living. If we cannot find an immediate use, or project an income from something, we dismiss it as having no value, and therefore, it is neglected, unworthy of attention and protection. We leave no room for mystery and possibility, which is a dastardly mistake considering our limited knowledge and inability to reason into the future.

The second issue relates more to the human aspect of work. We no longer seek to do that which provides us a higher quality of life based on our necessities. Rather, we do the things we hate because they pay more; because we believe it will provide us with a larger quantity of our wants. The ecosystems that thrive in the world, those that present more opportunity and hold more life, are not composed of what a single organism has built and colonized. Those natural communities that thrive are built on and within a complex system of nearly infinite, minute interactions that require each being to play its role, to live within the discipline of its own evolution and creation. It takes only a glimpse into our cities and countryside to see that we have denigrated both humans and our environment to the dollar sign. The breadbasket of a America is covered in less than seven major crops. We use approximately 382 million acres for crop production; 282 million of which are planted in corn, soybeans, hay, wheat, cotton, sorghum, and rice. Compare this many acres to a 1 acre garden with more than 25 different foodstuffs, enough to feed a family of five and still sell to the market. I would much rather spend my day working in the garden than on a combine in the middle of a 5,000 acre corn plot. Diversity brings life. 

In an environmental sense, our cities are in much the same shape as the 5,000 acre farm. We work hard to create human diversity in cites; for this, I am grateful. Cities can be magnificent places, where culture, art, and community thrive. Human civilization and a civil society require these elements, but all to often, cities are void of our dependence on the natural world, the processes and cycles that drive food production and dictate the availability of resources. All things found in the city are derived from an original source. We pride ourselves in creating new things, but forget that whatever we create necessitates the extraction and manipulation of an existing, natural material. The decisions driving our expansion and extraction, our use of natural resources, our exploitation of invaluable raw materials are made from high rise office buildings. Farming methods, crop production, and the physical world are devalued by the abstract, dis-associative system of money valuation. 

For us to thrive, we must consider the natural context of diversity. We must be aware of our influence on the things around us, and perhaps  more importantly, of the influence those things have on us. I am not so naive as to think that we should dissolve our cities, nor that everyone should live on a farm. But, I do hope that our cities consider alternative options for growth and planning, such as green-roofing, roof-top and community gardening, planting trees, and creating green-space. Our philosophies of quantity and abstract valuation are bleeding into the world. We are maligning human-environment systems of interaction which have lasted for several millennia. Developing cities and nations are following our footsteps, and often take drastically detrimental footsteps in trying to "catch up" and "keep up". River systems are destroyed for the rock and soil at their edges. Entire populations of fish and aquatic life die due to lack of erosion control. Flooding is more probable and destructive than ever before due to our inability to reason ahead and plan for our impact on the hydrologic cycle. We justify it with the jobs created, the money made, and the ease with which we can move around doing the work we don't want to do, for money that won't bring about the ends we want.

Work can be for money, but also a way to explore our unique fit into the complex and mysterious workings of the world, our eco-system. Instead of working solely (and often miserably) for money, the so-called means to our end, which is thought to be human happiness, we should move toward a different philosophy of work--that work is the discipline and joy of today. The discipline is in reminding oneself that reaching the end would only bring about further doubt, insecurity, and some other nonsensical pursuit. The joy of work is in knowing that you are made, evolved and created, to fit into the complexities of the natural world. There is joy in recognizing our smallness, and also our uniqueness in this shrinking but still diverse Earth. For those who work from this philosophy, work is the means and the end.

My Job Isn't Glamorous, But It's Worth It

Living overseas has a peculiar way of making one know who they are, and who they aren't. This is the eighth time in the past six years I've spent more than a month abroad; the longest period being nine months in Thailand and the shortest a month in Turkey and Cyprus. Yet, with more than two years of experience abroad, struggles with cultural difference and periods of intense homesickness continue to wash over me in unpredictable waves. Though few and far between were my entries, I find it paradoxically comforting and disconcerting to read old journals from in-between times in Tennessee. There were periods, typically upon re-entry, that everything about "home" was glorified--the weather, food, coffee shops and bars, access to the outdoors and various hobbies, and most of all, familiar people doing familiar things, especially family. As I read past the initial months in the journal, the sinking feeling of wistfulness and ancy yearnings for the uniqueness and erratic dealings of life beyond my own culture are apparent in my writing. Unfortunately, I haven't found that perfect place in the world where I and everyone else are happy all the time.

I'm learning various disciplines at the moment. Many virtues become important when you're tossed headlong into another society. I think its because the abstractions are all that's left to hold onto. Currently, patience and perseverance top the list. Time doesn't operate the same way here. Everything moves according to events, not the clock. So, as we plan out our workday, I have to account for the many teas I'll drink and the social aspect of completing projects and buying parts. With Western deadlines, this can be incredibly stressful.

Perseverance comes with both language and work. I run around town for lots of parts; explaining issues I don't know much about, mainly electrical and mechanical, in a language I don't know very well. Its been a long while since I've been this exhausted, almost to the point of sickness. My body feels chewed up, mashed and beaten by the machines. It feels like betrayal to work this hard, this many hours, and still see the enormous labor necessary to get over the first year "hump", which actually feels like the highest mountain in the whole damn world, only without the splendor. Last night I was driving to a business meeting and tears came to my eyes as I thought of finishing this year's harvest and milling. I've never worked through anything near as difficult as the things Natalie and I have faced since last December. Afghanistan, two months "homeless" at home, and now Iraq (actually Kurdistan, but most are unaware).

For Natalie, I know for certain the greatest difficulty has not been the difference in gender roles, finding the right job, or even physical security; it has been the distance, the isolation from family and friends, missing out on key events. But not only for the important happenings, also and especially she has craved being with them for the day-in and day-out experience of life as a unit. They are a tight bunch, and indeed, I am a lucky man to be part of their lovely crew.

For us, it has been challenging to face the changes, pressures, and questions that arise from living here. In our first 18 months of marriage, we've had to discuss everything from our deepest insecurities, which penetrate many layers of identity, to the concept of death as it applies to each of us. All of these intense topics have tested us, and so far, they have only caused our love to grow. We are learning the art of quarreling and pushing through challenging circumstances. It is only an art because we are committed to winning as a couple both in arguing and facing the trials around us. Every day, my heart grows fonder, not in spite of the disagreements and demanding externalities, but because of them. I suppose this isn't very logical, but what does make sense is clinging to one another as the storm rages on.

For me, I have certainly missed my family, my close friends, and especially spending time with all of my little nephews and new niece. I miss Sunday lunch at my grandparents, and heading to the river with my dad and brothers for the afternoon. I miss visiting my sister's farm. Work has consumed me to the point that it rules many of my thoughts, even my dreams at night. It may be because I'm working mostly in areas I would consider myself quite weak, in a stupendously hard place to do any sort of work. But, it's also likely I'm afraid of the responsibilities and look for a way to justify the freedom of doing something easy. Indeed, it is enticing to give up, to quit. Maybe I could work at a coffee shop and spend my free time committed to hobbies, hunting and fishing, outdoors, small scale farming, and doing the many things I'm unable to do here. It may be that one day this will happen (aside from working at a coffee shop), and I hope it does. But for now, I press on in hope that what we do here could change a city, a region, or even the world in some small way.

Life & Business, Not So Typical

We landed in the dusty Erbil airport on June 21st at 3:30 pm. Our good friend picked us up and took us to our Country Director's house where we stayed for three days, and then we moved into a transitional home. We lucked out because it's very expensive for short-term housing here, and we paid a normal month's rent to stay in a nice, furnished home that an American family had left for the summer. It was a great place to make home base while we went through the motions of finding our own home, obtaining residency, and buying a vehicle.

I was surprised to find rent here to be so incredibly expensive, on average around $1000 US per month based on everything we found anyway. After much searching, we found a home in a middle class, blue collar-like neighborhood for under our budgeted amount. It was a big win considering we then had to spend quite a lot of money furnishing the home and fixing it up. When renting or buying a home, there isn't a lot of time to think about it. You check it out, and basically have to decide that day whether you want it or not. The market turns over quickly and waiting a day probably means losing your chance at that particular place. Initially, we thought this place was perfect, and now that we're more or less settled in, we feel that way again. The month inbetween was similar to hell for me because it consisted of a seemingly infinite list of mundane tasks. I found myself very frustrated at all the problems--fixing light switches, installing toilets and A/C units, painting, buying light fixtures, sealing up the doors and windows for bugs and dust, and on and on the list went, all without having our own vehicle, which we finally bought about two weeks ago. Now most of the "fix it" list is complete and the furnishing list we have reduced to things we can count on one hand. Life is becoming more typical with regular trips to the grocery store and a semi-set routine. 

Now, work has been very interesting. As most of you already know, I work for an agribusiness called Agrisoya. We were a company started by the non-profit organization, SALT International. We worked with the Ministry of Agriculture (MOA) to conduct a few years of research trials, and now we're working with farmers to help them grow soybeans as a cash crop. At harvest time in October, we will buy the beans, process them into low-fat soybean meal and sell the product to a local poultry producer. Thus far, the farmers have done quite well with this year's crop, aside from a few issues with irrigation and weed control, and we're looking forward to yields between 1 MT per acre and 1 MT per donum, which is excellent even in comparison to some places in the states, and especially this year due to the drought. And the factory will soon be commissioned and on it's way to full operating capacity by the end of September.

My official role in this is to be the Director of Training & Research, which means I will (eventually) spend most of my time assisting the Chief Agronomist and conducting seminars, field days, and training sessions with the university, MOA, and farmers. As a business within it's first six months, all four employees are scrambling to get things jump-started, organized, and on a sustainable path. This means long hours, as is typical in new businesses, but along with that, in an entirely different culture with a language barrier and few friends to whom we can vent. 

Iraq is among the eight most corrupt countries in the world according to Transparency International (http://www.iraq-businessnews.com/tag/transparency-international/), and it is ranked 164 of 183 for overall "ease of doing business" by RealClearWorld (http://world-business-rank.realclearworld.com/l/348/Iraq). As one might guess, this makes everything incredibly challenging. A simple task that might take thirty minutes to an hour in the States might take a day or more here. However, I must distinguish here between the Kurdish Region of Iraq, and the Central Government in Baghdad. The information above relates to the whole of Iraq, including the Kurdish Regional Governate (KRG). However, it has to be taken into account that Barzani has gone to great lengths in the KRG to protect the rights of businesses and provide a fair litigation process. I am grateful for the KRG's ambition to distinguish itself as a profitable and fair place to do business, even if it is far from being realized due to high levels of corruption and isolation.

I have often thought over the past few years that I would pursue my PhD in International Relations with some concentration on food security issues and conflict. I am grateful for this opportunity to work in an agribusiness on the ground in an international context, especially in Iraq and formerly Afghanistan. What I am learning right now, I believe, will only increase my understanding of the pragmatic issues people, businesses, and governments must face in order to see social, economic, and political progress--all of which are necessary to create a food secure environment for the future. I hope being involved in the initial phases of this is as rewarding as it is stressful. Business registration, budgetary policies, a foreign legal system and bureaucracy, obtaining credit at high risk, working across cultural and linguistic barriers, and a broken, or at the very least, disjointed supply chain are among the many factors that make work tough for us. Some signs give me hope, such as Dr. Talib Elam's blogs--http://www.kurdistanfoodsecurity.com/2012/05/kurdistan-benefit-of-soybean-production_15.html. It is possible to see a healthy, and food secure Kurdistan in Northern Iraq, and we are working hard on many levels to see that happen.

Also, if you're interested in seeing pictures of the soy fields and factory, check this out: http://www.hebervega.com/2012/07/16/my-work-for-salt-international/. 

Tennessee in the Spring

Last time I wrote, I was readying myself to leave Mazar-i-Sharif, Afganistan, and preparing for a few months in the states. I expected to write, at least once a month, while at home, but the time never seemed right, the words never came. Then, I hoped to begin writing, once a week, in Erbil, but the transition into a new home, culture, city, and job has bogged me down.  I guess I can make excuses all day long for why I didn't write or reason my way through the lack of motivation to write. Let's move on to what happened back in Tennessee during springtime.  

We spent a few days in Dubai in transit between Afghanistan and Denver. Natalie and I walked from our hotel to the Mall of the Emirates, which contains a snow skiing slope. I watched children eating McDonald's french fries, and couldn't help but think back to the kids waving to us in the streets of Mazar (and even further back to India, Ethiopia, etc...). The feeling was overwhelming but I can't put words to it. At first, it was saddening, and then I felt angry, and then apathy, which I guess was my mind's way of saying "this is too big for you, move on". Our two days there didn't seem real. It was like being in a city on a different planet. We only flew about five hours, but we changed temperatures by about 50-60 degrees Fahrenheit, went from stark and unforgiving mountains to beaches and sky-scrapers, from beat-up cars and crazy drivers to $250 k cars with 16 year old drivers.    

From Dubai, we flew to Denver where we spent a week drinking good beer, eating great food, and driving through the mountains with Natalie's aunt. And let's not forget the wonders of central heat! We felt relieved. It was like getting a breath of air after a deep dive to the bottom of a swimming pool where the water presses hard from all directions. We were groggy and jet-lagged the first few days, but by the end of the week we were wide-eyed and mystified by the familiar comforts of the United States. Natalie's aunt showed great hospitality while we stayed with her and her husband, and we can't wait to visit again at some point, or to return the favor in Iraq. Toward the end of the week, I went snow skiing with an old friend. I hadn't been since I was around 18 or so, and it was exhilarating. It reminded me of the pleasures one can find when physical activity and the outdoors are put together. I've always been fond of such things, as a way to stay mentally sharp and healthy, almost like meditation, but being in Afghanistan, unable to pursue any outdoor activity (with ease anyway), really drained me. Very thankful to my friend Ben for that experience.

We flew back to Des Moines, and traveled back to Grinnell with my friend Jordan in our Subaru, which I missed dearly in AF. We were only in Grinnell for a few weeks before packing everything up for the move back to Tennessee. These few weeks were a blur catching up at work and trying to plan out the rest of our time before the leap to Iraq. I'm one of those weirdo's that find transition sensational--leaving the known behind and heading straight into the mystery. This was true of my thoughts and emotions in the U-Haul back to TN, even if I was only transitioning back "home". 

In traveling back and forth over the past few years, I've realized that even returning home to familiar things can be quite adventurous. I think it's because we change, all of us, but when we're together we don't notice. After spending time away and returning, the changes are more noticeable. Every time I've left and returned, I've made new friends and acquaintances, but this time was unique. I only spent time with those closest to me, and didn't really meet anyone new. I kept to myself, trying to write, read, and process the past year, and more really, and also trying to pull the various pieces of my identity together from each of my experiences. I don't like being idle. I don't like not working. This was the hardest aspect of my being home. It forced me to stop and think, to rest and not worry about fulfilling obligations or goals, or pursuing dreams and ambitions. This time was preserved by the fact that work was guaranteed ahead, but there were no responsibilities for several months. It was a necessary thing before moving to Iraq for a minimum of two years, and while there were days I felt miserable and purposeless, I look back joyfully at the time I had fishing, sitting by the fire, and relaxing with the closest of family and friends. Tennessee is amazing in the spring. I want this time again, but it will be a while.