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| Arsh Haque |
Travel abroad is an exceptionally reflective experience. In Louisville it is easy enough to stay busy enough to not reflect too often. I can rush from meeting to project to midterm without too many seconds to spare. Any reflections that occur bubble up organically and explosively into the hidden corners of the day and feel all the more important because of it. In travel, however, it is not the same. The dead windows of time in-between events cannot be filled with texting and emails. Cab rides and long lines are spent watching people and looking at the sky between leaves of a tree. There are reflections everywhere, all the time. It is hard to condense it all into a nice succinct essay. I feel like I should be writing one long Virginia Woolf never-ending stream-of-consciousness sentence. That would be more appropriate than a thesis statement. But if I have to choose, then this: I prefer narrative.
Travel in China has been distinct because of its company. I share most of my experiences with nine intellectuals. They are individuals who with vigorous energy process the world around them through thought. They prepare and listen in class, regardless of their interest in the subject. They debate the issue of Taiwan at clubs and pubs as if it were a personal affair. Metro rides are filled with quiet speculations about the political ideology of our translators. There are few moments spared from the incision of the group's thinking. It is perhaps appropriate. The travel is sponsored by a scholarship program, after all. It has compelled me to join the madding crowd. I have begun to think about subjects I otherwise would not. I join conversations on Sino-African relations and twentieth century presidential politics. I talk instead of daydream. The experience, however, has been like working out in a gym - a healthy, productive, but not particularly fulfilling experience. It has helped me find, however, where I do find meaning.
On the trip there has been a series of inexplicably meaningful moments. An example is perhaps better than an explanation to describe what kind of moments. We were waiting a few days ago outside a mall. The air was filled with the usual scholar talk. I walked away and heard their voices die down as if by a radio dial. I was overcome by a kind of Aurelian peace - detached from the mild stress of playing the part. At the foot of some nearby steps a street-performer was playing the guitar. It was different than in the states - it was a pleasant, subtle show. It was evening and the cars had just begun to turn on their headlights. A girl in a conservative dress crossed the street behind the guitarist. She walked in front of a jeep and the headlights lit up her figure. She was a dark silhouette in a light coral dress. I have no idea why but I loved that moment than any other in the day. I call them narrative moments. They elude meaning and dissection. They are good because they are good. They do not need me to explain them.
The basic divide between the two types of reflection explain a lot. I generally do not base my decisions on reason. I base them on narrative. I have a fairly defined character and I choose what fits. If I were more scholarly I might try to choose what was "logical." I feel, though, like I am going on as if this were a Platonic dialogue, an open discussion with a question in mind that never really gets answered. I think that is appropriate. So many of the reflections I write for others are compacted into neat little packages. The best stories I read, however, are messy. They do not prescribe a direct solution to the world, nor do they act like the beginning and end of the story are the real beginning and end. So for a brief essay on my preference on narrative, I will leave it like my favorite stories. I have had a few narrative moments that I have liked more than a few scholarly moments. Take it for what you will.
Arsh Haque, of Elizabethtown, Ky., is a junior McConnell Scholar at the University of Louisville. He is studying political science and creative writing.