To the Places We Find Ourselves
By: Kési Felton
After a solo date to see Captain Marvel, I took advantage of the nice weather to walk through Chinatown to the National Mall, walking past some of my favorite landmarks (like the Newseum) and finding myself at the Capitol Building to watch the sunset. I began to reflect on how much I’ve grown to love Washington, D.C. and how this city has shaped me exponentially as a young adult in the past three years.
When I came here as a Howard freshman at 18 years old, this city presented me with an opportunity to deliberately define the person I wanted to be in the world, which holds especially true today. I’ve spent much of this first quarter of the year in solitude, reflecting on the woman I have become and hope to be — contemplating my philosophies on everything from education and career, love and relationships, politics and social justice issues. I’ve spent a lot of time defining what all of these things mean to me — apart from how I was raised, what I was taught in school and other things I’ve come to know about myself and the world by simply existing in it for the last 20 years.
As I was sitting at the Capitol trying to enjoy the sunset, I was distracted by the ongoing movement from traffic and tourists which led me to this revelation: D.C. is a place where most of its residents and occupants are, like myself, “transplants” (roughly 37 percent of all residents were born in D.C., according to a five-year study by the American Community Survey; 2013–2017).
Most of the other 63 percent of D.C. residents arrived in this city with some kind of objective — whether to pursue an education, chase a job, or start a family and settle down. Most of these people find their efforts consistently fixed on this one goal, enjoying the fruits of their labor once they have achieved it.
In the midst of all of that movement, I couldn’t help but remember that each of those people has their own objectives and stories — points from which they came and points to which they are going.
In the midst of all that movement, I remembered how easy it is to be overwhelmed by the time and energy required to travel your path, but that every one of the places we find ourselves on our path has a story. A story that began and exists independent of us, well underway before we showed up.
Whether that place is a place, a person, a moment — take the time to consider your objectives. Did you arrive with the intention to take, to give, to learn, to appreciate, to love?
We spend an enormous amount of time and energy to get to that next place. While this culture of ambition (read: capitalism) is, at times, an inspiring thing to witness and has undoubtedly shaped the evolution of society in a multitude of ways from politics to philosophy, technology and politics I can’t help but think about how it engrains in us a mentality of disregarding the current moment.
So many moments used in an effort to climb the proverbial ladder or push the proverbial needle forward. But have you tried to find, in one of those moments, a time to be still and at least acknowledge where you are now and how you got here?
We are taught to place a lot of expectation on that next place. That next job, next relationship, next chapter of life. We are told to have hope, that “things will get better” and that we just have to “keep the faith.” But what about right now? How well have we been equipped to be safely acquainted with the present?
The point is not that the next place is not better. I’m sure it is. The point is that each point in our life, each step on the proverbial ladder offers a unique and distinctive view. Each step offers its own experiences that work over time to shape our lives. Regardless of the expectations we assign to the past, present or future — each of those points contributes to your story. Trying to fast forward to that next place does not erase who or where you were before, nor does it absolve you of your responsibility to yourself to connect all of those dots through purposeful reflection.
Reflection creates a moment for us to reacquaint ourselves with the place we ended up, whether by a strategic, concerted effort or by happenstance.
These moments allow us to simply be and enjoy an aimless moment in this unfailingly kinetic world. To be immersed in a space free from objectives, motives, goals, intentions, and judgments. To acknowledge the places, people and moments that have led us here. To think about how this current moment is preparing us for the next.
I love to take these moments to pause because to stop is simply not an option. After periods of reflection — whether a few minutes or a few months — I am still aware of my life’s purpose. I remember that at the end of this moment, I have to press play again, reorient myself to return to my course and continue running my race.
However, I want to emphasize that as much as this world tries to lead us to believe, intentional, healthy and sound lives cannot be lived in nonstop motion. We would be remiss to simply accumulate a life’s worth of experiences and knowledge, only to arrive at that next step without giving at least a moment of our time to express gratitude for who and what led you there.
We would be remiss to not acknowledge how life — in the midst of all its movement — made space for us. How, in the midst of their own journey to accomplish their own objectives, those people and places created room for you to take, give, learn, appreciate, and love.
The question now is, what will you offer to thank them?
