Fruit of Wisdom (TESC)

Week #1 Traveling with Pomegranates

 

Fruit of Wisdom 

Christmas Day.

Three pomegranate sightings within a few hours of each other—it’s as if the universe knows I’m reading Sue Monk Kidd and Ann Kidd Taylor’s book, Traveling with Pomegranates, over the holidays. I wanted to rest my eyes before sitting down to write this blog post, and over at goop.com, a single word captured my attention; the word that’s burrowed underneath my soul, and lives inside my ribcage (rattling, demanding to be fed constantly)—Perfect.

Ann’s struggle and the ebb and flow of her depression in her early 20’s seem so close to my own. There’s a fear, an overwhelming sense of ineptitude that lives around the space in my heart. No matter how much I achieve in a small period of time, I find it lacking.

 Practical. This is another word that I think of when considering options after college graduation. As I told quite a few people this year of my story on how I found myself back in academia, I find myself racing against time and my own intuition to enjoy my collegiate journey—this time around.

A few years ago, I migrated to the US with my family. Not too long after that I enrolled at Seattle Central Community College (after a year of school in an Ivy League university in the Philippines), and I pursued college education with Olympian dedication and fervor. I barely slept at all during my time at the college, and I worked full time on top of it. I was in the Dean’s List, and the Honors Society and no matter how well I did in college, I could never remember my life there. My excellent academic record revealed a studious, diligent student but who is this student really? I’d like to know, as I only have fleeting memories. I went to one of the most, fun, vibrant colleges in WA State and I missed the dance, not once or twice, but many times over.

Afterwards, I transferred to Evergreen State College. I packed up my things and moved into the dorms, eager to re-invent myself and my idea of myself. I dreamed of all the people I’ll meet and the fun adventures I would encounter in Olympia. Instead, I did the diligent student thing and read all my books, wrote the best essays, and burned out with an unhappiness I couldn’t shake.

So I left school, a decision I made while watching Ratatouille in the theater. At the time, it was a decision that I made that my soul truly wanted, and besides I didn’t know any of my next steps. I went into college the first time, fully thinking, I was going to be a college professor and be a writer on the side. I tend to follow intuitive nudges and one time in class, when people were talking about their future goals, I had a petit mal seizure of panic and anxiety. I realized I wasn’t cut out for the professor’s life. For one thing, I’m too rebellious and I’m terrible at taking constructive criticism. Another, I’m not good at delayed gratification—working towards something in the long term, bores and terrifies me.

            Graduate school, the words loom over me like an angry rain cloud. It’s only fitting that I reach for this familiar book again at the end of the year and the beginning of the new one. I’ve read this book a few times in the past, hoping to find answers in between the pages. I find Ann’s depression and her lack of guidance in her life, and Sue’s grievance over the last few chapters of her life and her sense of unfulfilled destiny—a balm, and an assurance that life will find its way to keep me whole. If these women found a way unscathed (and published a book out of it), maybe I can too.

            In November, I finished my coursework from my one (and eventual final) semester at WSU. I finished classes (very) early and made it to the President’s List. And here it is again, that feeling of loss, like I missed out on something but I have no way of knowing what.

 I was born on the feast of the Virgin Mary, most Catholics greet this day with pride and joy, like a second Christmas.  It’s my destiny to be associated with the Madonna, the way I always found a rapport with Athena as soon as I learned about her. I was always the girl who did things just like the boys did, who always stood up to authority.

 When the other girls were thinking of dating and relationships, I was hiding in the library and dreaming big dreams—most often on my own, without the thought of a romantic partner on my side. So much so that I eschew human companionship to stay another hour on the job, bury my soul into another book, and write just one more essay due (in two weeks). I wear Athena’s personality and characteristics around me like a shield, while letting the other Goddess walk away in boredom—not giving them a chance to live through me, flesh and bone.

            And so, that wanting, the desire to live out an unfulfilled destiny—I wish I knew mine was so I can make a wish on New Year’s for it to come true. What is my unlived destiny? I’ve been published here and there, won awards, won money for my scholarship essays. As of this writing, I’ve been in the food industry for 10 years, and finally, finally, I’ve found a company who is willing to invest in my skill and talent and whatever unfound potential I might still have.

 I feel that constant push and pull in my heart. “Your heart should want it,” Sue once told her daughter, Ann. But what it is that I want—a writer’s life or a business life? Whatever it is, my heart, my heart that’s been betrayed by life, is afraid and fearful to reveal its own wants and needs. How do I find out what I want when everyone around me is pushing their own agenda? 

Trying to find the stillness in my own thoughts, and my own heart is a tumultuous journey. More so than interviewing for a Mastodon STEM company, or applying for scholarships; or just taking that great leap forward in acquiring my college degree. For now, I need to find peace in myself that the answers will come at the right time. No need to push and pull—when the universe isn’t ready to give and I’m not quite ready to receive.