For people who live a global life with work postings in different countries that last a few years, a one way ticket can be exciting. It’s time for a new adventure and a chance to explore a new place. Whilst there’s stress in organising another move, you know it’s not forever.
So what about when it could be forever?
In early March at the Families in Global Transition conference, I heard the expression ‘lovepat’ for the first time. I’ve never really felt comfortable using the term ‘expat’, one of the main reasons being, that it feels like a temporary move for work. I’m not in England temporarily, or at least I can’t think that way as otherwise I would never settle.
I’ve been here over 11 years now. Am I still am expat? I don’t have a contract that I know will end in 2-3 years and then I’ll go home. I moved for love. My wife is British and I moved to England to live with her. So….lovepat it is.
So how does a one way ticket feel for a lovepat?
It’s quite something to sit on a plane, having packed up your entire life and know that you’re leaving home, but not know if you will ever return. I felt excited and enjoyed the feeling of the unknown, but I was also a bit scared and slightly unsure – was I doing the right thing?
But deep down I knew that I still had choices to return home to live if I wanted to.
But what if you can’t go home?
I heard the most amazing play on BBC’s Radio 4 this week. ‘Minority Rights and the Hanging Gardens of Babylon – The Fernhill Philosophers‘. In it the Eritrean character – a highly educated man, who was unable to go home said, “Exile is a kind of death, but I try to live”.
It’s a powerful statement isn’t it? ‘Exile is a kind of death, but I try to live.’
Imagine living with that everyday. Imagine our friends in Syria who cannot go home as home no longer exists. Imagine the exiled LGBTQI person that will be murdered if they go home. Imagine knowing that you will never go home to all the people and places you hold dear.
It’s beyond painful….
But exile is not just about people from other countries. Imagine feeling like you’re in exile because no one understands you and your autism. Imagine the stress of trying to do your job well, but your dyspraxia plays havic with your ability to remember what your boss asked you to do. Imagine people always looking at you oddly because your muscles make you walk differently.
We need to care and support people. We need to ask them what they need, because until we’ve walked in their shoes we know nothing of their lives.
But we can listen. We can listen openly and with love, and we can see ourselves in everyone we meet. If we listen we start to learn differently and we also start to learn the similarities. I love the Vietnamese expression, ‘same same, but different’. We are the same but we are all different too.
We are all a piece of the giant puzzle of humanity. No two puzzle pieces are the same shape, all rounded slightly differently, but I know that I can’t make up the picture without another puzzle piece, and another piece…..and another, and another, until we all fit together; different, but each forming an integral part of the same picture.
We need each other.
Whomever we are – what ever country we come from – and whatever our abilities.
Sometimes we’re that lone piece of the puzzle that doesn’t seem to fit anywhere. We can’t seem to find our way. But suddenly the piece of puzzle is turned around and with a shift in perspective there’s a connection – a connection to another piece and another, and as more and more connections are found, the puzzle bonds together more firmly.
It’s much like life and community. On our own we may feel unconnected and wonder how we fit into ‘the bigger picture’. But start to shift perspectives and you start to see others more deeply.
You start to see the intangible layers, the personal stories in people’s eyes, the body language that shows their discomfort, the way they eat food that shows a rich cultural heritage, the non-stop talking that tries to hide their nerves, the accent that makes them ‘not like me’ and makes them hide the other 5 languages they speak, the jokes they make so you love them, the respectful silence you take as shyness, the constant movement that helps them to focus, the clothing they wear with pride but you don’t understand……the…..the….. The list is endless.
All I ask of you is to pause.
Open your ears and eyes.
Open your heart.
Be the shift in persepective.
None us of want to be that lone puzzle piece.