Don't Be the Sock

Click. Lock. Water begins to fill the base. Clothes swirl in a clockwise motion, yet I am still able to decipher which item is which. Fast, then slow. Slow, then fast. Up, then down. Down, then up. Nearing the end, the spin cycle speed skyrockets. The pink linen pants worn three days too many transforms into thin air held together by the sound of never-ending rumble strips. Slowly, the machine lets off the gas. My clothes reappear as one colorful, unified rope until the motion softens and gravity asks that they go their own way.

The process of washing my clothes reminds me of Peace Corps Pre-Service Training. Locked in with no control. ​Who will be in my cohort? Where will my training community be? What will my host family act like? Where will I be placed for the next two years? What kind of work will I be doing? How can I do my best? What is my best? ​The list goes on. The beginning felt slow, and I analyzed each experience as I saw it—every person and moment as separate as the items of clothing just beginning to dampen. Awkwardly moving, attempting to fit into a structure so set, to match a rhythm so rigid, to enter a dynamic so daunting. Am I drowning?

Between the tides of belonging and insecurity, I found a choice. I could either be the sock that ends up stuck in the rubber, hidden in the darkness, buried by the lint of days passed. Or, I could come out clean. To do the latter, however, I would need to move with the process, or, more accurately, allow the process to move me, relinquishing any sense of control. After all, the questions swirling in my mind were not mine to answer necessarily, and nothing I could do would change the speed and motion of the cycle.

On one side, I wondered how I could comfortably call this “my” life without the independence to make such pivotal, personal decisions such as where I would be living and what I would be doing for twenty-four months. On the other, however, I contemplated the possibility of Life simply as a force moving for my benefit as freely as I let it, in the same fashion as the cold water cleaning my clothes on the delicate cycle. If I could just trust the natural movement of the present moment, I could float among the currents and end up where I needed to be.

To a logical thinker, the choice is obvious; however, time and time again, behavioral psychology has proven that we humans simply do not act in accordance with such logic; if interested, check out Daniel Kahneman’s book ​Thinking, Fast and Slow​ for more on that. We experience, we feel, we fight, we defend. So, while I would like to say that I live in nothing but a blissful flow state, we all know that’s BS. Some days, I am the sock. I cling to what I think I know, feeling heavy and soggy, hiding in an attempt to protect myself from the uncertainty of life. Other times, I feel luckier and lighter, but it is a process that requires attention and awareness.

As Pre-Service Training continued and life became more routine, time quickened its pace until the highly anticipated peak arrived. On May 10th, or Site Assignment Day, the Tico 37 cohort plunged into a centrifuge of emotions. Our tiny faces plotted on a map of Costa Rica revealed our new communities. The image of truth and sense of vulnerability united the group. Yet, after

our heart rates returned to normal and we could not analyze another word in our site information packets, the cycle slowed as it neared its end.

Luckily for this analogy, I am quite haphazard with my washing machine techniques. I drizzle detergent over my non-separated clothing like a child with chocolate syrup, so I am confident we will all go forth carrying some new colors and experiences. Life. What a thing. Washing machines. What things. I couldn’t be more excited to see how these coming times will fold and unfold. Okay, enough puns and parallels for now. Off to site I go.