Early in the semester, I once wrote:
My childhood, to put it bluntly, feels very “white.” Most of my friends were white, affluent, and religiously uniform. I attended Catholic school my entire life, surrounded by strictly white teachers and instructors. Furthermore, there were only three Black students in my entire graduating class. Reflecting on this now, I feel upset and confused about all of the lost opportunities for diversity and inclusion.
Now, with almost eight full months of an Emory college experience under my belt, I feel different than I have before. I have engaged in difficult and eye-opening conversations with those around me about race, religion, sexuality, gender, and other related topics that are too often politicized in our modern society. With my privileged experiences that color parts of my identity, I am in pursuit of a richer understanding of diversity that I am hoping to expand through my remaining college years (and beyond). And maybe these deeper understandings can also positively influence my connections to the land that I know and don’t know as well.
On a different note, as I reflect on the stark contrasts in my ancestry and relationship with the Earth, I can see how dichotomies can lead to great growth. The rough pavement, plethora of weedy dandelions, and wild winters of the south side of Chicago may seem quite opposite of the lush, verdant pastures of southern Ireland of where I come from. I often experience the harsh realities of seasonal affective disorder during tough months in Chicago, especially as I remember the landscapes of Ireland.
Everything was so green, so deeply cared for, and so intentionally honored. I honestly have never experienced Irish culture and tradition in such a meaningful and personal way. From seeing the great falls at the Cliffs of Moher to the slow yet bone-chilling cold streams next to my family’s houses, it was almost like I could taste the beauty of nature.
Remembering these wondrous feelings and connections to nature fill my heart with joy. In the beginning of the semester, I mentioned how I had a goal “to just be more appreciative of what nature blesses me with.” I am happy to say that I have worked diligently at this goal, whether it be big or little ways. While walking to class, I do not listen to music anymore. Instead, I bask in the sounds of nature: the birds chirping, the wind blowing, the trees creaking. I have tried to be more mindful of how I engage with nature, whether it be watching where I step or not swatting at bees that fly my way.
As I said previously, “nature is peace.” I have found extra glimpses of this peace this semester through experiencing these new changes that have helped me grow into a fuller human being that is more willing to listen to others and to the world around me.