I’m not good at transitions, but there is comfort in knowing that even when things are “new-ish,” I never really have to go through them alone.
I am not good at transitions. I never have been. I cried my first week at Ramah overnight camp, moped around after returning from my high school semester abroad and remained awake the entire night before leaving for university. I guess I don’t like change. So, imagine the aftermath of a transition as big as college graduation.
I have been officially out of the bubble of academia for two and a half weeks and I’m not sure what it means. I don’t feel like an adult, but I’m no longer a student. (And they don’t offer discount movie tickets to confused 20-somethings.)
My fellow classmates and I have officially hit limbo. There is no longer a clear matriculation pattern or a guidance counselor telling us where to go next. Perhaps the scariest part is that it feels as if we are on our own.
So where can I find comfort in a world that is no longer defined by research paper deadlines and summer vacations? Thankfully, I’ve always had a little help from a song:
Wherever you go, there’s always someone Jewish
You’re never alone when you say you’re a Jew.
So when you’re not home
And you’re somewhere kind of new-ish,
The odds are, don’t look far –
‘Cause they’re Jewish too
I’m not going to Amsterdam, Disneyland, or Tel Aviv. In fact, I am staying in Washington, DC, the city I have called home since 2004. But things are changing: I don’t have the guarantee of friends, classes, or an advisor that will tell me how to do my job, but I do have the guarantee of Jewish community and the home that is built for me within it.
For the next year of my life there will always be a Shabbat service to attend on Friday nights, a kosher chicken breast to buy at Trader Joe’s and a Sunday school class to teach. Judaism has my back.
That’s the thing about belonging to a community—you’re never truly on your own. Scarier than being on our own, perhaps, is the uncertainty that accompanies college graduation. I anticipate sleepless nights, butterflies in my stomach and maybe even a few tears, but my relationship to my religion, culture and community will remain a constant support as I forge a new path for myself as an “adult” … whatever that means.
I’m not good at transitions, but there is comfort in knowing that even when things are “new-ish,” I never really have to go through them alone.
Ariel is a graduate of the George Washington University, where she studied theatre and dramatic literature. She currently works with Arena Stage as a teaching artist and theatre educator. Ariel is the creator of the “Voices of Bokamoso,”an audio program based on her work at a youth center in Winterveldt, South Africa, during the summer of 2011.
