Tuesday, November 17, 2015

Tough Questions

As part of my work here in Hungary, I run an English table for any student who would like to practice speaking in English. Tonight, at our first meeting, I was pleasantly surprised to engage in a conversation with ten very bright high school students. I began our conversation with light topics, such as introductions, favorite colors, and hobbies. These topics are taken from the "get to know you" section in my bag of conversation topics. We covered things like playing handball and basketball, reading "Hunger Games," and playing "League of Legends" (it's a computer game, just in case you aren't aware). 

Half way through our hour together, I asked if they had any questions for me. I always allow the students to learn about me as well, as it is only fair. They asked the typical questions of "Where do you come from?" and "How do you like Hungary?" The next question, however, took me by surprise and turned a lighthearted and surface level conversation into something deep and complicated.

"What do you think about the Paris attacks and the Islamic State?" they asked.

For a moment, I panicked.
A million thoughts raced through my head. 

How do I answer this as an American? As a representative of the ELCA?
What is my opinion on the attacks around the world?
How much should I share?

Then I realized that they wanted to discuss these issues and we had created an opportunity to do so. I didn't know how to answer, so I did what I do best: I asked questions. I discovered they were more than willing to answer or at least share how they were feeling. That concept is difficult, and they were willing to speak about it in their second language.

We discussed the attack on Paris.

They learned about the attacks in Beirut and Baghdad.

We talked about how the media responded to these situations... to every situation.

We discussed fear after many had watched the most recent and horrific video released by ISIS. 

We contemplated what this means for the world and the actions some countries are taking. 

We shared thoughts on the refugee crisis and how the world is responding. 

I am constantly amazed by the thoughtfulness and intelligence of young people in our world. They ruminate on tough issues and when given the chance, they speak freely and intelligently. 

Friends, these teenagers are doing exactly what we all need to do. They are willing to have conversations about the issues we face as a world. They respectfully and patiently listen to what others want to say and they acknowledge the opinions of others. 










Friday, November 6, 2015

Musings on a fall day

An entry from my personal journal:

November 6

This afternoon, after lunch at the dormitory, I felt compelled to take a walk to the park. It was a lovely fall day and the temperature was just right. Perfect, really. The leaves were crunching with each step, as more leaves had fallen throughout the day. I wandered off the cement path, into the yellow and bronze colored leaves. I passed the head of a statue which likely commemorated October 23, the Hungarian Independence Day. As I passed, I saw a bench ahead; a bench surrounded by the stillness and beauty of the large leaves. 
I sat. 
I thought.
I read.
I listened.
I found creativity.
I found beauty.
I sat on the wooden bench, taking in the peacefulness of the world around me. "There is great value in stillness," I thought. "So often I miss the opportunities to be. To live. To listen." So I sat there, feeling content, allowing peace to fill my soul. 
I felt alive.
I felt loved.
And I wasn't doing a thing.







For the first time, in a very long time, I was inspired. It isn't that I haven't been inspired during the last few years, because I have- just not with this type of inspiration. The type that opens the "creativity pocket" in my brain and allows me to write freely, without judgement. As I dusted off the cobwebs, I was pleasantly surprised by the result. See below. 


[Poem without title]


The wind whispers to the trees,
quietly persuading them to let go of the leaves 
they so desperately want to keep.

The time comes when they can no longer hold their leaves tight, 
and they release.
They release without knowing, 
without realizing.
They cannot control it, 
and must give in to the peaceful voice that surrounds them.
Yet the trees are surprised,
not by the lifted weight,
but by the beauty.
The beauty which is now opened to the world;
that of one small, yellow leaf gently gliding to the ground, 
filled with others of its kind.
Its beauty makes the release seem easy,
and the trees find the courage to let go of more,
until they are free of weight.
They are light,
but not empty.

With time, 
the trees will be met with a new type of beauty,
One of confidence and growth.
It does not meet them immediately,
but they know, 
with patience,
it will arrive.

Without warning.

With grace,
with love,
and with new life.


© Aliyah Richling, November 2015