Displaced

Watching a TV series from a country that I have never visited, I am reminded of where I have been.  The two years in another country seemed like a lifetime and it seems like a lifetime ago.  I suppose the impression of the longevity had to do with a number of things.  The calling I had, the matters of the heart, the adversity and trials, the diversity and the discoveries, along with continuing to work for years more in a multicultural situation extended the experience in its own way.

This TV series is from the land down under when my experience led me to an island up above.  The viewing is bittersweet, for I see similar customs and hear like phrases and common terms.  The living arrangements are tight and small.  The furniture and the furnishings seem to be a hodge-podge of vibrant colors and practicality.  The culture seems to be take-it-as-it-comes and much more relative to living in the moment.  There seems to be less judging, condemnation and guilt.

The perspectives from the land down under and from the island up above are in stark contrast with the American way, at least here in the deep south.  It seems that here in the American south, everything is contrived and planned on a large scale.  It is not uncommon for the living arrangements to be three times the size, if not more, of that before mentioned.  The furniture and the furnishings seem to be coordinated to the smallest detail, often in disregard to practicality or cost.  Every event, outfit and meal must be thought out ahead of time and carried out according to local tradition and/or public approval. The culture seems to be focused on the-next-best-thing and appearance at any cost.  There is always judgement, condemnation and guilt, an unending portrayal of power and position.  It seems as if we own provides satisfaction for today but tomorrow brings new things to obtain for our very identity is at stake in the pursuing of the American dream.

Perhaps because I have been viewing this TV series (which incidentally was aired in 2002 about the time I left the island up above), I am feeling a bit displaced and caught in the middle.  Perhaps because I have been observing the American way as personal events unfold and wondering what is the point of it all, I am feeling a bit displaced and caught in the middle of two different cultures.  Perhaps I am feeling displaced and strung out between the two because I am in a holding pattern, boxed into the now but waiting for the future.  Perhaps it is more profound than that even, for the calendar has progressed to the time where Palm Sunday is commemorated anticipating the Holy Week to come.

Oddly enough, six weeks ago I shared with my deepest best friend a private and soul-shattering event; it was a surreal moment and I found myself repeating many times, “I don’t know what happened, but something/someone died today”.  Being pregnant with anticipation, charged with latent energy, vigilant of all that approaches, I am waiting to see what’s gonna happen.  I am feeling displaced and caught in the middle.

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