what's next

What’s next? That’s the question I constantly find myself avoiding. With less than two months until my tenure in Ecuador is over as a Rostro de Cristo volunteer, the thought of what comes next is both exciting and daunting. The problem isn’t that I can’t find a job, no less, a job that benefits others. The problem, the real catch-22, is finding a direction that both helps others and invigorates me at the same time. I know I have to be serving others; that’s never been clearer. I have a college education. A U.S. passport. Those two items alone put me ahead of about 95% of the world. Those two items call me to help those who can’t help themselves; be a voice for the voiceless. But how?

I think what I’m really struggling with is finding what is my real passion in life. I used to think it was writing, but the daily grind of entry-level journalism turned me off. I know everyone’s got to start somewhere, but why sit in a cubicle waiting around for a story, when I could be out doing something? My thoughts then turned to traveling. I didn’t know how I could afford to travel after college with close to zero money saved, so I looked into volunteering. After a week abroad my senior year I found a little town in Ecuador called Duran. Eight months later, I found myself on a plane, heading back to that little town to serve for a year. I hoped that this experience would send out a clear sign or road map saying, “GO THIS WAY!” But as many of my roommates and fellow volunteers were finding undiscovered passions, they never knew existed, I was, and still am, left thinking “where’s my passion?”

That doesn’t mean I haven’t been changed or opened up to passions. I guess I’m not just not sure what to do with them. I know I have a passion for Latin America. The people, the culture, the language. In college I would have never guessed it; Europe and Spain is where I had my sights set, but being here has completely changed me. Two of my former employers, and maybe two of the most intelligent people I’ve ever been blessed to know, Carol Marin and Don Moseley, told me when they heard I was coming to Ecuador for a year, that it’d be the best experience of my life. “Go,” I remember Carol saying. “Go and see what the world is like. You’ll be a better reporter, a better person for it.” Truer words have never been said.

It’s always easy to downplay or minimize the problems of this world, especially when you haven’t seen them firsthand. But after the last 10 months, my eyes have been opened to so much. The atrocities of this world, both historical dating back centuries to the colonization by Britian, France and Portugal and present caused by “first world nations” like the United States. What it’s like to be on the outside looking in. I thought I knew the global perspective of the United States, but the actual feeling of being on the outside, seeing the disparities between countries like Ecuador and countries like the United States, is something I don’t think I’ll ever accurately be able to describe. What consumer and economic responsibility really means. Living within one’s means. All of these are to say that I have developed a passion for helping others. But the question remains how do I turn my infuriation at the disparities and atrocities in this world into action?

Which leads me back to journalism. Everytime I think of what can I do to actually do something in this world, journalism sparks in the back of my mind. Think about it. Genocide in Somolia and Rwanda. Sweatshops in Asia. Kidnappings in South America. Every story, no matter how small or large, is presented to us because of journalists. If I want to do something, to bring some change about the world, maybe journalism is the way to go. That is until I started reading a book by Anderson Cooper.

Cooper, an anchor for CNN who has extensive experience working abroad, released a book entitled Dispatches From the Edge, a retelling of his experiences in Africa, Asia after the Tsunami and Hurricane Katrina. The book had my attention from start to go. “Yeah,” I thought to myself. “This is what I should be doing.” That is until Cooper, put into words what I’ve always had in the back of my head.

[Writing about HIV-infected children dying in Africa] They die, I live. It’s the way of the world, the way it’s always been. I used to think that some good would come of my stories, that someone might be moved to act because of what I’d reported. I’m not sure I believe that anymore. One place improves, another falls apart. The map keeps changing; it’s impossible to keep up. No matter how well I write, how truthful my tales, I can’t do anything to save the lives of the children here, now.

Pessimistic for sure, but how far off is he? If it’s not Duran, Ecuador today, it will be Nairobi, Kenya tomorrow or South Central Los Angeles the next day. One place improves, another falls apart. Can I really make any sustainable change in this world? Meaning, can I be the seed for a revolution? In reality probably not; that’s not a knock to myself, but a statement of truth. I honestly believe, there will always be poverty and poor in the world. But does that mean I can’t make change? No, I think I can. I know I can. As Pat McTeague tells every retreat group that passes through her doors at Nuevo Mundo, “You have no right to fail.”

It’s not my choice. I have to do something, but the nagging question remains, what?