I was never quite convinced that I should come to Paris this fall.
I have dreamed of studying abroad for a while now. I couldn't, and still can't, imagine going through college without going abroad.
One little thing, or rather large thing actually, has been itching in the back of my conscience though.
One little thing makes me question why right now, out my window, I hear the passing sound of clacking high-heels, vespas, and muffled French voices.
It makes me question why I spend my days blissfully exploring Paris.
It makes me question why I should be here, practically drowning in history, art, culture, and beauty—why I should be learning so much, growing so much, changing so much....
It is this question that troubled me: Who am I helping, by going to Paris?
Each time I asked, I conjured only this answer: myself.
Is it right, to be so indulgent? Should I feel guilty to treat myself to such an experience? And what clean water for my soul can be found in a city which, despite all of its positive qualities, seems equally polluted with materialism, gluttony, vanity?
I do not pretend to have the answer tonight. One thing I have learned, though, is that no matter where we are planted, we should spread our roots to the good water we can find, we should grow stronger and taller, and we should bloom.
Now I can recognize the error in that naive question that I so often asked myself in the weeks leading up to my departure from the U.S.
The questions that I should have been asking myself are: who am I helping in Davis? Who am I helping in Tehachapi? Who am I helping, and what good am I doing, wherever I am?
No matter what side of the world my feet touch, It's my choice to be a servant or not. I can—we can—choose to love people wherever we stand. At home or abroad, it's just attitude. It's not the choice between helping yourself and helping others; it's the choice to, in all situations, be loving, forgiving, and upright.
So perhaps, at the fork in the road, to care for yourself and to care for others are not the two paths that diverge.
Perhaps, at the fork in the road, the two can lie on the same path.
I have dreamed of studying abroad for a while now. I couldn't, and still can't, imagine going through college without going abroad.
One little thing, or rather large thing actually, has been itching in the back of my conscience though.
One little thing makes me question why right now, out my window, I hear the passing sound of clacking high-heels, vespas, and muffled French voices.
It makes me question why I spend my days blissfully exploring Paris.
It makes me question why I should be here, practically drowning in history, art, culture, and beauty—why I should be learning so much, growing so much, changing so much....
It is this question that troubled me: Who am I helping, by going to Paris?
Each time I asked, I conjured only this answer: myself.
Is it right, to be so indulgent? Should I feel guilty to treat myself to such an experience? And what clean water for my soul can be found in a city which, despite all of its positive qualities, seems equally polluted with materialism, gluttony, vanity?
I do not pretend to have the answer tonight. One thing I have learned, though, is that no matter where we are planted, we should spread our roots to the good water we can find, we should grow stronger and taller, and we should bloom.
Now I can recognize the error in that naive question that I so often asked myself in the weeks leading up to my departure from the U.S.
The questions that I should have been asking myself are: who am I helping in Davis? Who am I helping in Tehachapi? Who am I helping, and what good am I doing, wherever I am?
No matter what side of the world my feet touch, It's my choice to be a servant or not. I can—we can—choose to love people wherever we stand. At home or abroad, it's just attitude. It's not the choice between helping yourself and helping others; it's the choice to, in all situations, be loving, forgiving, and upright.
So perhaps, at the fork in the road, to care for yourself and to care for others are not the two paths that diverge.
Perhaps, at the fork in the road, the two can lie on the same path.
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