Kochi is known as the “Queen of the Arabian Sea,” and according to National Geographic it is one of the world’s top 50 destinations.
Over the years, people have come to the port of Kochi from all over the world; Chinese, Portuguese, Dutch, Jewish, British, and Arab influences are all apparent.
Dutch cemetery.
Side street.
Splashes of bright orange and yellow.
One of the highlights of Kochi was visiting the Chinese fishing nets. Chinese traders introduced this mechanical method of fishing to India. The fishermen were friendly and invited me to walk out onto the dock and witness fish being netted.
Fisherman who befriended me.
Nets.
Fisherman walking out on the end of the fishing contraption in order to bring the nets to the surface.
The catch.
Celebrating the catch.
Kochi brought with it some special news. I was accepted into my first full-residency MFA writing program.
This has been a dream of mine for a long time, though I hardly dared believe it could come true.After getting my first MFA acceptance letter in Kochi, I spent some time thinking about writing and what it means to me as an individual. A few months ago, in a journal I wrote something significant. I wrote that I feel that writing, for me, would be “enough.” Writing would be enough to interest me, enough to engage me, enough to sustain me even through the most difficult times in my life. As long as I had the means to write, I believe that I will survive.
Rereading this entry in Kochi, I was struck by how much my description of and feelings for writing resembled the love that people feel for a significant other.
And I realized that, yes, it is true, writing is my lover and I am in love with writing.
Sometimes I have this feeling that I am good enough to write something substantial, something profound, something that will be remembered, something that will inspire. I used to feel guilty for having that thought, for it seemed selfish, pretentious, egotistical, and unrealistic.
Spice market.
Tumeric.
In Kochi, I realized that maybe this feeling is “God” or the “God in me” talking. The part of me that isn’t afraid of my “light” (reference Marianne Williamson’s quote “Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us.”)
When I first read this quote a few years ago, I thought that it was true. Later, looking at myself in the mirror sometimes, I felt (intuitively) that this quote was true. But it wasn’t until rereading that journal entry in Kochi with an MFA acceptance letter in hand that I really experienced what this quote meant. And I believe that only when you experience something can you truly believe it.
The word “God” is a hard word for me to swallow. I don’t know what I think about “God.” I don’t see “God” as an external entity. I see “God” as part of myself and others, the enlightened part of myself and others. When defining “God” in these internal terms, I feel more comfortable with Williamson’s passage.
Overall, I believe that we do humanity a disservice by playing small.
