It's been two and a half weeks, and I feel like every few days I discover something new I need to take care of, whether it be some stupid "housekeeping" thing or having to ease myself back into the mundane or to nurse my emotional state. Today's discovery was that life back home did not stop for a month and a half while I was gone. My life back home was paused, but everyone else's wasn't. I noticed my un-awareness the first night I was back in Georgia -- I met a couple of new people and asked, "So, what are you guys doing this summer?" then realized what I should have asked was, "What have you guys been doing this summer?" But even then I didn't know the full significance of that ignorance.
Being back home after field school is surprisingly difficult. Six weeks was long enough for me to have to seriously adjust myself back into the familiar environment, but short enough for me to feel like the whole world outside of field school was on pause, yet long enough for things to change back home.
So here I've been today, nursing my wounds, trying to stop procrastinating, and reading poetry to cheer myself up all at the same time. A good find from this afternoon that, of course, reminds me of field school:
Falling Stars
by Rainer Maria Rilke
Do you remember still the falling stars
that like swift horses through the heavens raced
and suddenly leaped across the hurdles
of our wishes -- do you recall? And we
did make so many! For there were countless numbers
of stars: each time we looked above we were
astounded by the swiftness of their daring play,
while in our hearts we felt safe and secure
watching these brilliant bodies disintegrate,
knowing somehow we had survived their fall.
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