139.

[because everything, including decisions, are bigger in texas]

so things have been quiet over here for a while, but i write today, in part, to explain why and to share some news that has solidified as the dust of the past few months settles.   

i spent the better half of this past (academic) year researching graduate programs, skyping with professors and researchers across the country, and entertaining that age-old (old age?) question of what i want to be when i grow up. months of studying for the GRE (for the third time), writing and editing unsatisfactory personal statements meant to sum up the intersection of my personal and professional passions in 2-3 pages, and trying to sift through and better understand the prospective mark i’d like to make in this world is what followed. upon completion of my applications the work morphed into months of waiting to hear back from the various rings i had thrown my hat into.

the process was a journey in itself; one filled with half-polished epiphanies, jagged-edged questions, and nights with too little rest. i started hearing back from programs as early as january and there was some delight in this, but a delight that was always tempered with the question of do i really want to do this? i was courted, listened to, and treated like someone who has the potential to be a real scholar, to make change and pursue ideas that could matter. that all felt pretty great. the greatness, much like the delight, was caught in a mess of trepidation and resistance to major change. something about uprooting after years of sowing, tending, and harvesting here in new England is quite scary.

uncertainty, that ever-present house guest who leaves her dishes strewn about your living room, looms larger and stays longer than i ever anticipated. in the midst of my travels and handshakes and question-asking, she was always riding alongside me reminding me that (as a dear friend so eloquently put it) new shit is scary.  

the last leg of my journey culminated in a trip to austin this past week.

as i walked on campus for my 1:00 appointment reveling in the sun shining and green trees waving a hearty Texas hello, i heard Obama’s voice in the distance. caught off guard, i walked in that general direction and found him (or a projection of him on a large screen) speaking before hundreds of students and university folk as they sat scattered upon the ground; silenced by his reflection on the legacy of civil rights legislation that he, standing before us as our President, embodies. i was moved in the way i’d forgotten i could be as he reminded us, quoting LBJ, that “if our will is strong, and if our hearts are right, and if courage remains our constant companion, then” as he quoted, “my fellow Americans, i am confident, we shall overcome.” i felt as if the universe were throwing me an obvious wink, a nudge that reminded me to get on with it and to remember the passions within me that have grown quieter in these past three years.

the next few days were filled with more questions and it wasn’t until Saturday afternoon that i felt a surge of most welcome certainty. i was sitting in my beautiful friend’s living room. this friend, a fierce woman who has believed in me since the day she met me as a confused, angsty teen, had welcomed my dilemma-ridden self into her home with her unwavering warmth and generosity. it was Austin sunny and i had just finished reading Flannery O’Connor’s short story “The River” on her porch swing. as i sat in her living room, satisfied and thoughtful, i felt the warm breeze coming through her open door, noticed the sun filtering in through the windows, and then, as if that late afternoon was in cahoots with the Presidential coincidence from days before, Willie Nelson came on the radio. in my head and in my heart i sensed a swell of the sort of courage Obama had referenced and in that moment the “new shit” looming before me didn’t seem so scary.

within minutes i had composed and sent my official letter of acceptance to a PhD program in Cultural Studies in Education at University of Texas, Austin. so, in August, i’ll be a new girl in a new city and for the next little while I’ll be dedicating my time and efforts to sowing and cultivating my garden in a rather arid climate. i’m certain, though, that with good porches, the support of good friends and family, and a break here and there to frequent local honky tonks, the harvest will be abundant and nourishing.

i owe a lot of thanks to a lot of folks and i hope you know who you are. please believe it when i say that this angsty and confused woman that i’ve grown into couldn’t have gotten this far without your love, guidance, and unmatched patience. for that, i am forever grateful.