The Joy of Understanding

I lost a Thursday but got two Mondays out of my trip to China. The crossing of borders and time zones kept my body and brain on alert for signs of what day and time it really was.

The trip was absolutely lovely in every way. As anticipated, I was well taken care of by strangers and colleagues.

And yet, there was a constant aching for the familiar. A palpable sense that my people, my heart safety nets, were far away and out of reach.

And then there is the exhaustion that comes from taking in new information with every sight and sound. Your brain is on high alert with warnings that you are in unfamiliar territory - even if you also know it is perfectly safe.

Last week, I wrote about “the joy of not understanding”. Today, as I land in San Francisco, there is a joy in understanding. It takes no effort to interpret the signs. At a quick glance, I get all of the clues I need to know which line to go to, how to get food or simply find the bathroom.

I know this landscape and the flow here. I know where to get help and I could get it when I ask.

In this ease, I can’t help but think about immigrants. Those that are forced to make the gut wrenching decision to leave their home and step into the unknown.

How exhausting it must be day in and day out to learn new customs, languages and rules (spoken and unspoken). All the while knowing that some percentage of your neighbors don’t want you here.