Space, distance, maangi fi (8/29/18)

I am thinking about space and what it means. This past summer I felt overextended. I worked as a waitress most nights, interned at a local nonprofit most mornings, performed two nights a week, and lived with a ton of my friends. Spread thin, I rarely experienced moments of mental clarity. I looked forward to my time in Dakar as an opportunity to take time and space for myself. As I seek outward, I look inward. And while there is a great deal of physical distance between me and my loved ones right now, I wonder if space and distance are really the same thing, and I wonder if I can sprinkle some pixie dust and turn this distance into an opportunity to feel close.

Let me explain.

On the third leg of my trip, from Brussels to Dakar, the airline upgraded me to business class because they accidentally overbooked economy. With room to spread my legs, I was able to focus long enough to write a letter home. In this moment I considered the relationship between physical and mental space: its symbiotic nature and the clarity it brings.

In Wolof, when asked how you are, the response is not "good, fine, bad," or some other connotated adjective. Instead, one replies simply: "Maangi fi," meaning: I am here. You might hear this response in English as well, but not without some sarcastic tone that suggests the not wanting to be where one is, perhaps so early or for so long.  But I don't think Wolof considers "here" only as a physical indicator. No--what qualifies a person as here is far more complex than that.

Have you ever spent an entire day with someone and still missed them terribly? Being here transcends the physical. It requires not only a mental presence but a mental peace to be anything close to convincing. I imagine, given my condition this summer, I was obviously somewhere else for a lot of people. Even those that I lived with. During these next four months I will try to make my way back here. A place unseen but felt, without coordinates but with presence.

Moreover, I look forward to filling the space between my head and my heart, a process that was articulated eloquently by an older woman at The Neutral Ground this summer (a coffee shop I sing at). She said that it is this space (between head and heart) that causes pain, ambiguity, confusion. Where they meet, she said, is where intuition lays. I am trying to figure out exactly what that means.

In any case, I am grateful for the distance I have from my loved ones right now because it is allowing me space to return back to the present. To be here for myself and for others no matter where my body carries me. I am grateful for this blog for offering me a space to be pensive, creative, reflective, and free. I am grateful that I can share it with anyone who's listening.

Donc, if you miss me, please remember:

Maangi fi


I am here.

And I love you!