learn to journey and return.

i've been feeling nostalgic about my alma mater this week. and then i saw that they made this new video about the byu experience, and it sent my byulove right over the edge.

i loved byu when i was there, though i certainly had my moments when i wanted out. nevertheless, byu taught me so much both inside and outside of the classroom. and because of that, i'll be forever grateful for that spirit of the Y.

i'd always intended to write a farewell to provo kind of something. or at least a farewell to byu, kind of like megs did. i'd always intended to, but it never seemed to solidify in my soul until now--one week into graduate education at another university. and something about that marks my undergraduate education as officially and completely behind me.

there's a certain kind of charm in that provo air--especially in the summertime. even more especially in the evening as the sun sets. there's a certain glow of golden breath that distills upon the city in the summer: everyone becomes a bit more calm, walks a bit slower, and breathes a bit more often. furthermore, what's not to love about a city that loves their hot air balloons? the hot air balloon festival as part of the freedom festival. but sometimes on random saturdays those balloons have also been known to float their way through the sky. seriously--how can you not be charmed by the sight of hotairballoons?

i can't deny that i was ready to move on by the time april 2015 rolled around. really ready. even with my few jaunts to eastern europe inside of it in 2011 and then again from 2012-2013, 2009-2015 was plenty of time in ptown for me. in that time, though, provo really was good to me. and just as i predicted over a year ago, provo had more for me before i was through, and she wouldn't have been quite complete without those final months. but i was ready. really ready. and it's taken me until now for it to sink in what it really means to be a #byugrad. because it comes in little pockets--pieces at a time, little bits and then waves all at once.

i think one of my favorite things about byu was their motto, the world is our campus. they had many unofficial mottos, but there's something about this one that i loved the most. the way everything you do should be something that both teaches and edifies. and some of the most profound higher education i ever received, was in being a part of the world--getting outside of my own world both mentally and geographically. because everyone you ever meet knows something you don't, and there's something to be learned from them. i think the same is true of places and spaces as well as the people who fill those spaces.

and also. (i can't even believe i'm saying this.) but. i miss harold. maybe not the inordinate amount of time spent there. that place has good study vibes, man. reeeaallll good. i miss my cubicles to confine myself. or tables to spread. or softer chairs for reading. or basements without service for only the strongofheart.

i spent all my semesters at byu finding favorite unknown corners of campus. and every semester finding new favorite places to study. and every semester loving the cubicles because they were so helpful to me for gettinginthezone. i loved those cubicles, despite the painfully uncomfortable chairs that came with them. those cubicles witnessed and fueled my study vibes, my writing vibes, my thinking vibes, my decisioning vibes. they were good to me.

there's something special about the utah sky. and from all my time walkingandrunninganddriving those streets of provo, i became ever more aware of the sun, sky, and stars. the sun as it rose, the sun as it set, the moon that lit my path as i left home far too early and returned far too late.

and. the campus itself is stunning. did you know? byu grounds crew doesn't mess around. byu does so much to make the campus aesthetically pleasing and they are quite literally always under construction somewhere. the new buildings are delightful, and the old ones are filled with history and hilarity. walking through campus--there's always something beautiful to see from this campus nestled at the base of the mountains. beauty is all around.

university is never just about the courses you take, but they certainly are a powerful influence. this is the place so many of my views and perspectives on the world were formed and solidified. this is the place where my intellect was enlarged and my soul enriched. i read more pages than i thought possible in the short time frame in which they were read. i didn't read other pages that maybe i should have--because that's a part of university too. learning how you study. learning how you learn. and learning the hard way when you didn't do enough because you're young and living life. and most of all--learning what you care about most. learning where your passions truly find themselves.

most influential of all, though, were the people. friends, roommates, classmates, professors. even people that had none of the above affiliations. people are like that, you know? they can't help but be influential in some way. i'll be forever changed and made better for the courses i took, the discussions i heard and participated in, or the lectures presented. for doing things that are hard and sitting through things i never want to hear about again because it was so painfully boring to me. for the classes that challenged, but were the most rewarding of all. and the ones that seemed to be the worst, but developed in me the greatest progress both academically and in my character. and then there are those other people. the simple moments of shared smiles of commiseration with strangers when you're both on campus at an ungodly hour and everyone else is snug in their beds, or at least doing something more desirable than trudge through the cold.

these are the roads and paths i walked too many times to count. these are the streets i loved to love and loved to hate after passing through them so many times. the trees i sat under and the glorious beauty to which i became desensitized. because all these roads and pathways are only a fraction of the distance my soul covered in these years i was graced with the spirit of the Y--becoming a part of the legacy that makes brigham young university the prestigious institution that it is.

i went through every season a number of times at byu. fall, winter, spring, summer. fall and winter and spring and summer again. i can't even count all the photos i know i've snapped of the trees at every phase. the sunrises, the sunsets, the budding leaves, the changing autumn colors. the snowy blankets that cover campus and the melting heat of the dry summer sun. seasons come and seasons go, and i suppose that in itself was a lesson too: nothing ever stays the same. life always moved on and forward. and even the most similar-looking of circumstances always turn out a little bit different one from the other. because that's the way life goes, you know? it keeps on changing. it keeps on moving. it keeps on leading you through so that at the end of the day, you can look back and say, i lived. i really truly lived.

 there's this place i used to love to study inside the hbll--one of my most-frequented locations. it was on the fourth floor in the asian section. if you wound past all the tables, there were cubicles that lined the pathway along the wall that had windows looking out to a small courtyard and another side of the library. on the wall between two windows, there was a painting of an old chinese man who seemed to be the picture of wisdom. i liked to look up at him in my breaks in studying, as if he were imparting wisdom to me. a good luck charm of sorts. one of my last finals of my undergraduate career was a take-home final of essays that i typed from the library. i typed from beneath the watchful eye of this chinese man. because that place was always so good to me. and it was always to there that i went to study for the gre and take practice tests on saturdays last summer. because it was a little piece of charm that seemed all my own, hidden inside that byu life.

those were the days. those were the years. it was hardly ever easy, but it was enriching. despite all this, though. here, now, today? it's time. пора, мой друг, пора. as pushkin says. it's time to move on and forward. the sun has set on my byu time. onward and upward we're marching on. because life is measured by new experiences. 

here's to discovering a new campus, even if i'll be spending a grand deal less time here on campus or in classes. nevertheless, i've still got this hankering that maybe. perhaps. it might be possible. that utah will be good to me too. and so i say, here's to new. here's to this crimson U.

song of the day: all i can see, brendan james.

#emily'sgoingtogradschool

a career in speech-language pathology challenges you

to use your intellect (the talents of your mind)

in combination with your humanity (the gifts of your heart)

to do meaningful work that feeds your soul.

-megan hodge.

if you were to ask me five years ago when i first entered the major why i switched and was choosing communication disorders, i couldn't have given you a clear answer. it seemed like a good career path. it seemed interesting to me. it seemed like a good idea. but i didn't know why. it just seemed right. it seemed like it was an excellent fit for my aptitudes. and i've spent these five years learning why--not only why i'm here in this field, but also why i'm staying.

four years ago i was recently-returned home from romania. that beautiful, blissful summer of mine in a little corner of eastern europe. that place where there never was a happier time. because i love people. i need people. not in the kind of way that i want them always around to interact with and learn their stories, though that's also true. but because of what comes from truly meaningful experiences when working with others--experiences that leave one or more of the individuals involved forever changed. because of what comes from facilitating growth in others and enabling them to become more fully who they have the potential to be--whatever that means in whatever the capacity.

because this work is all about people. individuals. it's about a study of communication in all its varieties and the repair thereof when something goes amiss in those dances of interaction. and so we marvel at that early dance of interaction. don't you love that? the early dance of interaction. because communication is completely and entirely socially driven. it gains validity and utility in interaction, whether that interaction be with oneself, others, or some piece of the surrounding environment. because when else do we communicate? it's always driven by some interaction, as earliest evidenced by that dance of interaction from infancy between caretakers and little babes.

i think the ability to effectively communicate can change the world--both the world at large and each individual among the millions of orbits of humans living lives of their own around the globe. because to be able to communicate is to be empowered to act for oneself. to be human. furthermore, to facilitate that process when some missteps are encountered in that process? well, to do so is to enable and empower someone else. and so we study disorders of communication. this is why the field of speech-language pathology exists, in its multi-faceted spread of opportunities.

and, you guys! it's just so. dang. fascinating. every little piece. in all the courses i've taken as an undergraduate studying communication disorders, or in volunteer experiences, or even in my study of other languages. over and over again i see what it means to be able to speak. to have a voice and let it be heard. and in learning a language foreign to my own mother-tongue, i have experienced multiple times small glimpses of what it means to have one's voice muted for a time. to be frustrated and trapped inside oneself when there is an inability to communicate or express what's inside you and is itching to be let out. because a voice takes many shapes and lengths and breadths. a voice in speaking, yes. but also in writing, in art, in music. because those are all just as much communicative tools as words themselves, aren't they?

i could go on and on about why i'm shocked more people don't become a part of this rewarding, meaningful, challenging, and beautiful line of work. (to say nothing of the incredible job security.) literacy, voices, articulation, neurological disorders--these are just the tip of the iceberg of areas of the field that exist. in addition to the fact that i so earnestly need to be part of meaningful things in my life, lest i go completely insane from being mired in selfish or insignificant daily acts. but i'll stick with the gratification of knowing that i'm lucky enough to be a part of it. with knowing that the education i receive is empowering not only myself, but those whom i will be able to serve in the future, allowing me to be a force for good. all my experiences up to this point have worked together to lead me to being always among people. with individuals. with being enabled by my own experiences and skills to help others and truly change the course of their life. to empower. and grad school. well, grad school is just another step. perhaps the most important step. to truly enable me to facilitate real growth in both myself and others. and that? well that never stops being invigorating.

last october there was an information meeting at the university of utah regarding their master's program in speech-language pathology. october eighth, to be exact. and that was the day i knew. that was the day i became conscious of a desire deep within me more earnest than almost any other desire ever experienced. that's the day i realized how badly i really really want this. with all of my beating, significance-craving heart. i wanted to be a part of this field. a part of their program. a part of their clinic. a part of all of it. because i love the way they give a broad education that allows you to glimpse into every part of the field. because i love their clinic. because i love the professors. because i love salt lake city.

when i was in that meeting, i was overcome with the way being there made progress and growth and getting where i'm going feel possible. everything felt possible. and despite this program (no matter where you apply) being incredibly competitive, it was a profound recognition to realize that not everyone in the meeting would necessarily be my competition. more than that, i just fell in love with that place. and my soul was screaming that it needed to be there someday soon.

i'm a fairly easy-going person, driven almost entirely by pragmatics and perhaps sometimes flirting with the line of being too practical. more than that, i'm a minimalist. i like simplicity. and i'm far from materialistic. i don't want often. not in a real way, anyway. i want a drink on a hot summer's day just like anyone else, but i'll oblige to depriving myself of most things if necessary. because most things really aren't necessary. most of this modern world would be shocked if they ever truly discovered how little it takes to live. to keep surviving. but this. i wanted it so badly it nearly started gnawing its way through my skin. because it seemed like this program was screaming at me. because it seemed like i belonged there. in ways i myself could hardly explain, i knew i had to go there. and i wanted it so badly, despite only a certain portion of getting there being in my control.



i worked my tail off. i volunteered in specific areas of the field more interesting to me. i studied. i researched schools over and over again. i did things like an internship in romania not because it looked good on a resume. (though i can't lie that i'm grateful it does.) i did it for the experience. because it just seemed right. because it seemed so important to my life and who i am, who i'm becoming. in addition to being, on a simpler level, incredibly appealing to me. suffice it to say. i worked because i wanted to. because i cared about these things. because these are things that were worth being exhausted for and getting out of bed to embrace each morning. because i really, truly love it. because it starts a fire in my blood that courses out of my heart and burns through my veins.

and after all that wishing, and dreaming, and hoping, and praying (plus incredible amounts of hard work, late nights, and that horribly tedious application process), i got my letter to my own kind of hogwarts. back in march. march sixteenth. (i know it's august now. lifebebehindlikethatsometimes.) and while i pretended to consider my options, i was granted what i'd always wanted all along. my choice was simple, and i always knew. now. i get to study as part of an incredible program in a city that i love. last week i was in the clinic observing, and before i left i met a professor with whom i had a great little discussion about the field, autism, being in school, and how great it all is. it was thrilling. and he said in all his years in the field, he's never been bored. and let me just tell you. there's nothing so invigorating about that either. i'm so excited i could burst.

because.

hashtag. emily'sgoingtogradschool.

(now trending.)

(and yes. these photos are real life. i don't even know what came over me. #shameless.)

buckets.

the thing about the orem location of one of my jobs this summer, 

is that it's meant being able to see megs so often because of proximity to her home.

which is to say, it's practically down the street.

a hop, skip, and a jump, if you will.

(the armknechts love me. obviously.)

i have a million things worth writing about, 

and i'm hoping i eventually get around to it.

but until then, we must be satisfied with snippets.
including the fotochki from some mountainingwithmeg.

because what's a blog for, if not for a vain gathering of photos of yourself and those you love?

come on. 

it's for posterity's sake, guys.

you know?
and because we like swings and parks and shakes and mountains and sunflowers.
and each other, obviously.

and there's for our vanity's sake.

because isn't megs a baaaabe?

(we're so vain. and the song actually is about us.)

it's mostly for posterity.

but maybe alittlebit because we and the mountains are pretty.

because life is about finding whatever it is that fills your bucket, you know?
like days with meglet.
snoconesandshakesandmountainsandlaughs.

how they shine for you.

i've been thinking a lot about ukraine lately. about my ukraine, to be specific. (whendoinot?) but in actuality, it's because i've been home now longer than i served. one more time: i've been home now longer than i served. and the three year anniversary from the day i entered the mtc recently passed. and there's something about things like this that force you to think--reflection and pondering and a whole lot of thinking.

the hardest thing i ever loved: never enough while being too much.

may i show you of some loves from my ukraine?

not by any means an all-inclusive selection of my ukraine.

just a random collection taken mostly, though not completely, from two summers ago.

because there are so many things about that summer that were pivotal for me.

because in that summer, i found peace.

in the active verb kind of way.

because i chose to. because i almost had no choice but to do so.

because. i needed to find it.

how did i? i found it in chaos.

it was lack of control that allowed for clarity of vision.

because i was completely outside myself while being more aware than ever of my own heart.

and that's when i learned best: peace is a choice.

when so much may be spinning out of control, there can still be peace.

peace in doing what you know to be right anyway.

peace in following your heart--a heart seeking to become a heart like His.

a new heart also will i give you, and a new spirit will i put within you:

and i will take away the stony heart out of your flesh, and i will give you an heart of flesh.

and i will put my spirit within you.

ezekiel 36:26-27.

it may not have always been pretty, but it was always beautiful.

like meeting this babushka and already recognizing her because megs had known her the summer before me.

or being there with my two obi daughters on a pleasant summer evening.

speaking of megs, how about our sasha? сашка наш.

meeting a formerKGBlooking man on our street corner, and finding our long lost uncle instead.

lessons and streets and history and laughs and protective concern.

a man who really listened, but sometimes couldn't listen.

who saw. who knew. because he's a good man. a very good soul.

speaking of sashka and goodness, we can't talk about him without mentioning this woman i love.

novels and novels i could write about tomara and our short piece of merged eternity.

this woman i love, i leave to god to order and provide.

because her heart is one of gold. she there for me and i there for her.

i met her at the beginning of my mission, and i told heavenly father that it would be okay--

were i to not have any other real loves the rest of my time in ukraine-- that tomara was enough.

toma is always enough.

speaking of having enough, what about вера who survived the holodomor?

(ukrainian famine in the 1930's also known as the "terror famine." a genocide.) 

более того, what about the beautiful legacy in her descendants--

in both ukraine and russia, among the strongest in faith?

the stories she'd tell us, or her son-in-law who said, моя семья - это моя радость. 

[my family is my joy.]

speaking of joy, what about the thrill of entering a lesson with вера,

and having all three of us know that we were changing it on the spot without ever communicating in words?

or that summer of being with sister hassard and sister andrade in general.

because together we learned and i came to know what it means to love and to serve in balance.

(and they taught me and i taught them how to take a chill pill.)

and to laugh. oh, how we laughed.

speaking of laughter, what about the lessons and dinners and gatherings and joy we shared with this family?

they were so good to megs and me. to everyone, they are so good.

so willingly giving of themselves. so patient with me and my newness.

speaking of patience, understanding, and love. how about хозяйка люба?

still loving us after calling and locked out of our apartment at 11 pm on american christmas.

if that isn't patience, i don't know what is.

to say nothing of how she cared for us, the family home evenings we had in her home,

and the way she so freely gave of herself. 

and while we're talking about freely giving of oneself, we must remember these women.

these sisters. the laughter and tears and love we shared.

what a place we were in back then. what a place, indeed.

speaking of those places, how about the day that megs finished her mission?

the blessing of getting to be her companions for some of her last hours in ukraine,

or the pouring rain that drenched us minutes before our first meeting with our new mission president.

great first impression, obviously.

speaking of firsts, there's the first time i met this other tamara.

(i'm telling you. there's something about that name.)

on a split with two new sisters, and having one of the most beautiful lessons of my mission.

going back to an area i adored despite being there only a short time,

and meeting a woman who so earnestly sought understanding.

and so we made metaphors and talked of trees and libraries. there we talked of real growth.

and while we're talking about real growth, what about my sister fin fin?

my youngest daughter as i finished my mission who trained the moment she finished being trained.

all the good conversations and all the grit we threw into reviving an area.

an area new to both of us on a street i knew too well.

with the mention of my last companion and the youngest daughter, how about my firstborn?

while all of my daughters were so different, it could say the same thing that means something different:

to all the good conversations and all the grit we threw into an area new to both of us.

learning to be human, learning love, and learning to learn.

with all that learning, let's mention this woman and her beautiful poetry.

she wrote a poem that she shared with us about three kinds of prayers that was strikingly beautiful.

and was part of an area that re-initiated me to my kharkov home.

in the vein of striking beauty, our лариса. who sold us perfume, has beautiful children,

and gave some of the most enlightening lessons to both me and my daughters.

in the lessons themselves, and because of the lessons themselves.

lessons, lessons, lessons. not only the official kind that get a tally in your key indicators.

singing with babushki on cold evenings in late autumn, or listening to them tell their stories.

learning the value of every story, the importance of love, and also of working like you've never worked.

because there's no number for miracles, and the most profound of experiences aren't always in formalities. 

all things in their proper order.

because while missionaries must have heart, they must also have mind.

because too much heart and not enough mind is just as dangerous as too much mind and not enough heart.

anyway. i've been thinking a lot about my ukraine lately.

about my people. about everything god gave me and taught me.

about having a place and purpose, and always belonging.

don't cry for me ukraina. i've been thinking of you.

украина, я тебя люблю.

[ukraine, i love you.]