There is an Indian fable about six blind men describing an elephant. One approaches the side and feels a great mud wall. Another perceives an elephant to be a spear. The third asserts an elephant is like a rope, the fourth like a fan, the fifth like a snake and the last like the trunk of a mighty palm tree.
Each has their story. Each has a particular memory of their experience of the elephant. No one story trumps another, and no story is the full picture.
Yet each story is important, and true.
As we prepare for the end of the voyage, each participant has their version of a story, all true and all felt experiences of their experiences.
It is vital that each person has the unique experience of owning their story, of having a dedicated audience to listen to their version of “how was it?” While there is power in the shared voyage, and the friendships made also provide validation of shared the shared adventures, blessings, and tragedies, there is also a need for each person to have their own, unique place to be the sole author of one’s own life, and to script the version of this story to shape who each of us will become.
The Fall 2012 Semester at Sea community has suffered the loss of one of our members, in our last port, in the last days of a 100+ day educational voyage. Casey Anne Schulman is acutely missed, and our hearts go out to her family. Her death is like the moon that I see in the night sky as i write this.
The experience of losing her is also like a moon for many of the community. I picture the entirety of the trip much like the magnificent sunrises and sunsets I have inadequately captured on my camera, but have sat and admired for many minutes of many different days.
There are depths of color, texture, and temperature in the experience of the art that the sun creates. There is anticipation, there are teases, there are bursts, heart-opening experiences, and afterglow. There are moments of thinking “this is it”and preparing to leave, followed by turning around and recognizing that there is so much more.
This is the gift of a almost 360 degree view of the sky when one lives on a ship. When one part of the sky looks dark, we can turn, and see where there is still a magnificence, a splendor that takes our breath away.
I have been thinking about the tragedy and how it fits into the story of each person’s voyage, and the story of their voyage. I think of this last port as an experience that has the potential to eclipse the staggering impact of the rest of the journey. It all has to do with where we stand in relation to it.
When someone leaves Semester and Sea and rejoins family and friends, it is often too much story for anyone to hear. More so this trip than others, it is critical that the full story does get told. The stories began in Halifax, or months before, and they continue beyond disembarkation, as they include the meaning that one finds as their lives are transformed.
My hope for the community members is that each one has the gift of their story being shared with a unique audience who is invested in the person, and knows the power of narrative.
The moon glows bright and beautiful in the night sky. I honor its presence and also plan to celebrate the sun of the new day.
