My initial idea for this publication was going to be me complaining about the heinous weather out here in Barcelona. I’ve been here for a month now and it’s only been over 60 degrees, like, five times! It’s been getting pretty cold, with last night dropping to the high 40s. I’m not sure what it’s like back at Tufts, but I bet it’s better than here!
While it’s always nice to get readers’ sympathy, I was struck with inspiration for a different column topic this past weekend. I visited Dublin with two friends for a quick trip, and it was incredible! The weekend was full of interesting accents, Irish traditional music (I was roped into an Irish jig at one point) and pints of Guinness. I even got a certificate in pouring Guinness correctly from the Guinness Storehouse. If The Burren is looking for a new bartender, I’m ready.
Anyway, during the weekend we visited the cliffs in Howth, a port city about a 40-minute train ride away from the city center. There was a 2 ½-hour trail that traversed around the cliffs and through the countryside. It was truly majestic. The cliffs were incredible, and I was pretty much awestruck for the entire hourslong journey. If anyone wants to hear more about the scenery, please don’t hesitate to reach out — I can talk about it all day.
During the hike, inspiration struck me twice. The first time came at the very beginning. In typical Irish fashion, it had been raining for 20 days straight, so naturally the trail was a bit muddy. I spent the beginning of my hike keeping my eyes toward the sights ahead and the muddy trail. (I did not pack well. My white shoes and khakis were not happy). However, after a bit, I turned around because the sun had started to peek out of the clouds and I felt it on the back of my neck. When I looked behind me, what caught my eye wasn’t the sun, but the cliffs. The same cliff that I saw just moments before looked incredibly different. I was once again awestruck by that same slab of rock, but just this time I was looking back instead of forward.
The second moment was just past the halfway point. We were staring off into the distance (very cinematically, I may add), admiring the Irish countryside and a distant lighthouse. I turned to my friend and said, “Wow, it’s crazy to think that we may never be here or see anything like this again.” After a quick moment of pondering, he responded with, “That’s true. But also think about everything that has led us here.” I never considered my friend to be a wise person, but that sentence really stuck with me. I spent the rest of the hike thinking about his words.
At the end of the hike and on the train ride back to Dublin, I thought about what led me to that exact moment: every decision, moment and experience that brought me to a train in Dublin. Obviously, the journey was not easy. It was months of anticipation, filling out applications, shipping visa materials, saying goodbye to the life I had known and adjusting to Barcelona. I remember those moments so clearly. I remember the stress I felt when I received an email that my program needed me to reship a medical certificate because it “wasn’t original ink.” And that’s just one moment.
But now, suddenly, I was standing overlooking the Irish countryside. While it may sound obvious, I realized that none of those moments were things to “get through” but rather part of a trail.
At the beginning of the hike, I was so focused on what was ahead of me: the mud, the uneven ground, the next cliff. That mindset made me forget to look behind me, and when I finally did the view stopped me in my tracks. The ocean didn’t change. The cliffs didn’t change. But my perspective did.
I think we do that a lot in life. We spend so much time looking forward to the next assignment, the next exam, the next big weekend, the next big thing. When we obsess over what comes next, we forget to turn around and see how far we have already come.
One day we will look back at this chapter, this exact moment we are in right now, and it will look different. Sometimes appreciation doesn’t come from looking forward, but rather looking back.
After all, every cliff has two sides.
Watching my back,
Ben Rachel
