Finding strength in asking for help...and other ramblings :)

WARNING: The following ramblings are in no way required to make very much sense, be cohesive, or be anything but pure, brutal honesty. In addition, I do not claim to be the voice of any experience/perspective other than my own. This may seem obvious but I would like anyone reading this to keep in mind (especially once I begin my travels) that the way I experience India is through the eyes of a white, female, middle class, American, college student (among other things, and whether I want it to or not, this will continue to shape my experiences). I carry with me my own preconceptions and biases, which is not inherently a bad thing, but something I will continually keep in mind and challenge within myself. ANYWAYS :) just wanted to get that off my chest...

So I've been thinking a lot lately about what we conceptualize as strength or weakness in our society. Generally, or stereotypically perhaps, strength might look like being self-sufficient, emotionally sound, physically strong, etc. Weakness looks like just the opposite.
I've come to realize in the past few years, and especially through preparation for this trip, that a lot of strength lies in asking for help. It's been hard for me to ask for help myself when my mind can easily justify why so many other people in the world need more help for than me. But the truth of the matter is everyone needs help on many different levels. For us to admit this can be quite humbling, and allowing others to give support in whatever way they can is beneficial for everyone. I remember from one of my trips to the Dominican Republic, I didn't know what to do with the generosity I was faced with from people that had little material wealth. A dear friend on that trip said, "If everyone was a giver, who would receive?" I personally find the most joy in my life by helping others on their journey, by relieving whatever suffering I can. But if everyone in the world were too proud to be receiving, all the givers would have no one to give to! I would not be able to experience such joy.

So I suppose what I'm trying to say is that I have needed a lot of support with this trip, and when I finally got over my stupid pride and reached out to my lovely family and friends it felt so good. This consisted of monetary support, but most importantly I asked my friends and family to write me a note that I could open in India. At the time I was feeling a little nervous about the trip, and admitting this to myself and to everyone I love was so comforting.
And you know what else??!? I have come to terms with the amount I cry. I can't help but cry when I see someone else in pain, I cry when I am overcome with joy, when I see a smiling baby, when I touch the earth. I used to think this meant I was oversensitive, but I have come to realize that it is rather the way I experience the world is through feeling. I feel the joy and suffering and it is a lot of times overwhelming. So when I cry it feels like my heart is bubbling out with so much feeling for the world. :)

Well I will update soon on the Walk for Social Justice (hopefully with pictures!!) and from India in no time! I leave in SIX DAYS!!! GAAHALECJNL@NDLKSDN!!!!

On a final note, I would like to share with you one of my favorite poems, one that always brings me back to my heart.

Please Call Me by My True Names

Do not say that I'll depart tomorrow
because even today I still arrive.

Look deeply: I arrive in every second
to be a bud on a spring branch,
to be a tiny bird, with wings still fragile,
learning to sing in my new nest,
to be a caterpillar in the heart of a flower,
to be a jewel hiding itself in a stone.

I still arrive, in order to laugh and to cry,
in order to fear and to hope.
The rhythm of my heart is the birth and
death of all that are alive.

I am the mayfly metamorphosing on the surface of the river,
and I am the bird which, when spring comes, arrives in time
to eat the mayfly.

I am the frog swimming happily in the clear pond,
and I am also the grass-snake who, approaching in silence,
feeds itself on the frog.

I am the child in Uganda, all skin and bones,
my legs as thin as bamboo sticks,
and I am the arms merchant, selling deadly weapons to
Uganda.

I am the twelve-year-old girl, refugee on a small boat,
who throws herself into the ocean after being raped by a sea
pirate,
and I am the pirate, my heart not yet capable of seeing and
loving.

I am a member of the politburo, with plenty of power in my
hands,
and I am the man who has to pay his "debt of blood" to, my
people,
dying slowly in a forced labor camp.

My joy is like spring, so warm it makes flowers bloom in all
walks of life.
My pain if like a river of tears, so full it fills the four oceans.

Please call me by my true names,
so I can hear all my cries and laughs at once,
so I can see that my joy and pain are one.

Please call me by my true names,
so I can wake up,
and so the door of my heart can be left open,
the door of compassion.

--Thich Nhat Hanh