Fingerprints and Lost Souls

This past July, I spent two weeks in Poland with a friend.  I would call it life-changing, but those words are frequently thrown around lightly.  It was transformative.  For the longest time, I have counted on other people for guidance, and for instructions as to my plans for life.  I have spent the past sixteen years trying to choose an undergraduate major, for goodness sake!



Poland was a chance to journey far beyond my own comfort zone; I spoke maybe three words of the language, I knew nothing of local culture, and had I only located it on a map several days before leaving for Krakow. It was as close to a different world as I have ever come.

As fate would have it, I also ended up with ample time alone to explore cities.  I fell in love with the small, friendly, warm atmosphere of Torun, I explored the artisan booths and shops of Wroclaw, and I toured Wawel Castle and surrounding areas of Krakow.  The cities were breathtaking.  As someone who has never toured Europe much, seeing buildings that have withstood hundreds of years of wear and tear, never grew boring.  Beautiful little sculptures adorned street corners and town squares.  Cathedrals took my breath away.

But somehow, the opportunity to walk around, completely alone in my own language in my own mind, both terrified me and woke me up.

See, I'm an anxious person.  And poor sleep, stressful situations, and unexpected changes, all exacerbate my anxiety.  So I walked around Poland a bundle of nerves.  And as much as I could see that as a horrible waste of a trip, I don't.  It taught me so much.  I learned to watch faces, which are universal.  I saw the same fears, the same hopes, the same resignation and exhaustion, and the same determination that I see in people in the states.  My naturally anxious state also gave me ample opportunity to practice all the calming techniques I have been practicing.  I haven't decided whether they work yet, but I know that I can survive major stressors now.

The best thing that being alone did for me, was to make me decide to go discover.  I couldn't sit in the hotel room, so I had to go out and walk around.  In my walking, I toured a castle, I got lost in alleys, I found solace in pouring rain to hide my tears, and I found an art piece.

Scouring the internet, I can't figure out what it's called.  It is right below the Dragon of Wawel Castle, but it is a fingerprint.  Looking at it when I found it, and looking at it again now, it brings me to tears. Something about it is so intimate.  It speaks to me of wanting to be known.

And for this lost soul, halfway across the world, I longed to be known.  And in those weeks, I began the journey of knowing myself.