Yes, the title is a bit misleading, but for me it seemed appropriate based on the emotions that inspired this post.
I was watching a TV series (Foyle’s War) which is the fictitious story of a police detective, set in England during WWII. The story is fictitious but the historical details are accurate.
This particular episode took place as the end of the war was being announced in Britain. One of the final scenes was of a U.S. Army officer who had been stationed in England for the past couple of years. He had received his orders to return to the States but before doing so he walked out onto a jetty extending into the North Sea. As he stood at the end of the jetty, he peered out over the vastness of the ocean, seemingly in deep thought, then turned to leave.
This scene brought back the memories of such feelings - the feelings of leaving a place where I had become emotionally vested. As I paused to be with these emotions I realized that they are emotions like no other; not better, or worse - just different. They are unique to the experience of such a moment.
For me becoming vested in a place is a gift like no other. In looking at the definition of “vested” I was pleasantly surprised by two of the definitions:
“come into the possession of”
“(of a chorister or member of the clergy) put on vestments: he approaches the altar to vest for Mass. [with object] literary dress (someone): the Speaker vested him with a rich purple robe.”
Both of these definitions seemed so appropriate, even though their literal meaning was not. Each time I became vested in a place it was because I ‘took possession of it’ in my heart - deeply and profoundly. As for the second definition, I find the appropriateness in the description of ‘putting on vestment’. When I become vested in a place I do in fact wear it like a garment. The affect it has on my heart expresses itself outwardly as would a royal or religious vestment portray.
I have been fortunate - quite blessed many would say, to have had the opportunity to become vested in so many places. There is however a bit of ambiguity to what I have written thus far, in that I have left out key components of becoming vested. In part, it is the visual aspect of a place, but that being said - at least for me, the visual would not penetrate my heart without the people and the culture - which includes music, food, etc.
In writing this I am reminded of an experience I had just a few nights ago. I attended a Baha’i celebration at the home of an acquaintance. Coincidentally it was also the birthday of his wife. The husband, wife and son I had met only once before - a little more than two weeks prior, so my familiarity with them was quite limited.
When I arrived at their house I was greeted with a genuine warmth, as well as a genuine gratitude for me coming to join them. I might also add here that this family is Persian. The parents, as well has most of the people who were attending this celebration, were born in Iran - and there is a point to this distinction.
Once everyone had gathered, a spread of (what we in the U.S. would consider appetizers) was laid out: fresh cut fruits of watermelon, cantaloupe, pineapple, grapes -both red and white, and dates. Hot Persian tea was poured into ornate glass mugs, and presented to guests on a tray carried by the host. This was a time for people to mingle, and new friendships to be forged.
Shortly thereafter they had a short round of prayers, in honor of the relgious celebration - the 12th Day of Redvan, then dinner was served. Persian rice, Tahdig - which is the crispy parts of the rice..(people ave been know to fight over this!), chicken wings, a Persian variation on lasagna, salad, and several other items that I have no name for - other than delicious!
After dinner the couch was pulled back as far as it could be, and the coffee table was moved - all to make room for dancing! Iranian music was played and the floor was ablaze in movement. At one point an older gentleman had motioned for me to join them. As much as I love dancing - especially ethic dances, I shied away. He approached me, took me by the hand, and escorted me to the floor. This is their way of sharing their culture. I danced much like a caught fish as it is laid on the ground., but I had an amazing time. It was also a bonding experience for us all.
More tea was served, this time with what appeared to be a ‘hard candy’, pale yellow in color, that was to be dropped into the tea as an aperitif. Then a cake was serve - traditional Persian cake.
At one point I noticed an older woman sitting in a chair. She looked very traditional, with her headscarf, and dressed very plainly - except for her socks. They were black, but with very colorful squares of the part that covers the foot.
Having realized that she spoke no English so I had to ask someone to tell her how much I loved her socks. What I didn’t realize is that part of the Persian culture is to give someone anything you own, if they admire it! She began to take off her socks to give them to me! Once I was informed of this cultural practice, I apologize and did not accept the gift.
My life expanded so much that evening! In ways that will forever remain a part of me. When I left I felt as if were part of that family. I left there in awe at the openness and the generosity - of both material things as well as their very spirit. They also reminded me of what is important in life: family, friends, and the celebration of it all.
Thank you Nate! Perhaps we can add it to a future conversation!
Great post! (Excellent writing). I learned a bit from reading it, so thank you. A few more things for me to research.