Summary of my time

My average days, though planned for the most part, have come to be quite unpredictable. Although I have a routine, marking all my stops to my end-of-day-destination, the in between is paved by winding roads, narrow alleyways, and dead ends. It’s good to never get too comfortable, and I can assure you, that won’t be a problem for life here. 

The work I’m doing is simple enough, but, when put into context, may prove to be a bit challenging. It’s just regular life -meals, chores, school- but it’s not meant for me. For the last few months especially, my routine has been to serve myself. Don’t get me wrong; it’s never been in a selfish way. I try to make things I do matter to people around me. But I had no real direction in what I was doing, why I was there. I felt like I was floating around in limbo between school and this internship. Eleven months is a long time to tread. So, though I did my best to make the most of my time, this is a nice change of pace, where I see a specific goal to be accomplished, and I daily work to make that happen. 

By some beautiful chance of fate, I found myself last week giving an English lesson on parts of speech, which most would find tedious and dreadful, rather I was so happy to do it. There are also little preparations to be made for meals around the house, which I, along with the girls, help with. Another responsibility of mine has come to be facilitating a “craft” time with the girls. I opened up their craft cupboard to see what we’re working with, and a slew of beads, paints, canvases, and yarn covered the shelves. Needless to say, I am living the dream, perfectly constructed for me and my quirky (some might say ‘dorky’) interests. 

There is no way, however, that I am giving here more than I am receiving. I learn something new every day, dare I say every hour. The girls, co-workers, new friends, and city all have offered me so much. I’ve had to talk slower, speak simpler, and have become one of the best charades players I know. I have to be sure not to make promises I cannot keep, because disappointment runs deep. When working with people, I have to remember that being ‘off of work’ doesn’t mean ‘out of their lives,’ so no matter where I am, there’s always something I can do. I’ve learned how well I can sing Toni Braxton’s “Unbreak My Heart,” and also how difficult it is to sing while attempting to waltz, tango, or swing. I am able (though barely) to make that popping noise when you flick your finger on the inside of your cheek. It’s still a little uncomfortable to me when people cry, especially when I don’t speak their language to offer any comfort, and yet, sometimes, what is there to say anyways? It’s good to cry, and it’s good to feel, and it’s good to cry and feel for others. I’ve barely learned the Greek alphabet, let alone any words, but I’ve found that I can understand a lot just by hearing someone’s tone of voice. 

It’s true that love is universal, and I’ve found that fun and laughter are, too. I find myself consistently laughing, even though it’s hard to carry a strong, intelligible conversation. Maybe our enjoyment for others gets overshadowed by our need for intellect. We often times strive for this sense of superiority, sophistication. I think enjoyment in life is so simple, or at least it can be. There is this basic thread that weaves its way through all of us, connecting us in some beautiful way. We don’t need to try. It doesn’t require a great effort or a service trip or a sense of we’re helping them. I think becoming a community, really understanding that we all have something to contribute, and we all have something to receive, is what will make us our best. And once there, we will find ourselves with more to offer, and know that there is still so much more to learn.

Unintentional Public Service Announcement

“Ignorance is bliss” is such a curious saying. 

I suppose to some it could hold true in terms of receiving bad news, conjoined with the adage that “no news is good news.” I have a friend who claims that she’d rather not watch the news, because she doesn’t want to hear all of the terrible things that happen around our world. She’d rather live in blissful ignorance. But when making the conscious effort to avoid being informed, willing yourself to stay ignorant, doesn’t that erode away the true cluelessness? 

A while back I went to a concert that was truly horrendous. So much so that I literally caught myself plugging my ears during certain songs. While I was there, with all the wretched music around me, I was doing my best to drown out the sound. Though still aware that the music was being played, and that it was bad, I could muffle the sound enough to soften its blow. 

Isn’t that how that forced type of ignorance is? And the rest of us too. Maybe our avoidance isn’t as outright or noticed by others, but the fact that we have multiple methods of gathering nearly any piece of information we’d like gives our “ignorance” really no ground on which to stand. 

And then I think: Is it honestly bliss? Really? Perfect happiness? Being that unaware of reality, detached from current happenings, does not sound like bliss to me; it wreaks of misfortune. Without some sense of awareness, there is no hope for help. Exposure to heartbreak is a driving force of personal growth. So isn’t ignorance, in essence, depriving you from that progress? Wouldn’t we all be better off, hard as it may be, if we took it upon ourselves to experience some mental or emotional discomfort in hopes that we may be able to relieve another’s physical tumult or ease the pain of their realities? 

It’s very unlikely, after all, that you will stay in the dark about all topics forever. Once a light has been shone on the situations, it has also shown the time you’ve wasted in attempting to preserve your calm, peaceful perfection. There is nothing wrong with hoping for the best, but is that what we’ve come to - merely hoping with no action being taken? There is something so beautiful about embracing humanity -on any level. 

Sure, being informed about the many faces of life’s disasters leaves us with the feeling of next-to-no control, but there still is that small bit, that little sliver of maybe. Maybe if we know, we can help.

[I really began this simply because that phrase came to mind. This is just somehow where my mind ended up.]

Thoughts from 30,000 ft over the Atlantic

I’ve been racking my brains to think of where to begin this story.

I’d like to put it simply.

My life, as so many others’, has not gone as I’d planned. Forethought, holding hands with certainty and stability, gives me the ultimate peace of mind. If we’re being honest, I could live off of the confident serenity brought me by my lists, day planner, and personal goals. But somewhere inside, deep down I’ve always known, that is not the life I’ll have. Without allowing myself to dread what I do not know and trust in some unseen spectacular, I am the smallest human that ever was. Is it enough to know what I am like? or may I venture farther to say that it’s better to work toward what you’d like to be like? 

And me, I’d like to be like one of those people who feels it and does, who is so in tune with Life and Right and Love that my actions, impulsive, unexpected, and outlandish as they may be, are nothing but good.  Without increasing my ability to withstand discomfort, how will I ever be able to relish any comfort? The age old philosophy of the yin-yang. 

So when choosing what steps to take next, I couldn’t stick with just anything simply to have a schedule, a paycheck, good work, etc. Likewise, I couldn’t pick just anything that would encourage my desired freedom for that fact alone. There are very definite reasons why I am me, here and now. My heart doesn’t feel so deeply for certain things for no real reason. As much as I hate to hear stories of manipulation and injustice, something about that pushes me to take action. When I talk with women and girls who have been neglected, misused, and taken advantage of, it’s like my voice comes from the deepest place in my heart to assure them they are valued. Like my mind plays no part in that message, but the Truth of the universe comes from within me to ensure that they know. They have a place here. There is something so incredibly special for them to contribute to this world that no one before them, now, or ever after could do in quite the same way.

There is this weird feeling I’ve had for a long time (and still do) when I think of why I am me and why I am here. When I try to process why this life has found me here in America, born to an upper-middle class, white, Midwestern family, equipped with enough to provide me with nearly anything I could ask for, my stomach turns. Now, I’ve been able to move past a point of guilt or shame, understanding that I shouldn’t feel guilty about details that are beyond my control. But knowing what I do, my current inability to act would be just cause for said guilt. Were I to continue on living as though I am the only one I should care for, my desires are the greatest and should be first quenched, or slip into the unfortunately damning mindset that “someone else with greater means will help those problems that I’ve identified,” I would consider myself to be a shameful person. 

This is all to say that I, Brittney Fry, am following my heart, responding to my awareness, and I am going to live with a group of girls who have been trafficked into Greece. I’ll be an intern at the organization, interacting with these girls who have gone through some severe trauma, but will be able to assure them that they matter and they have something to give to this world. 

Maybe I’ll better understand that I have something great to give, too.

One thing is certain, though -- I’m making sure my life means something.