Unfortunately, as I write later in this blog post, the “window of inspiration” to finish this draft has closed. So I figured it better to publish it as-is than to let it waste.

Unmodified text: “Nothing will be the same” 🔗

The sun slowly slips into the horizon, darkening the sky as the street lamps and buildings illuminate. On the main road through the city, the taxi works its way through the evening weekday traffic in Sarajevo, Bosnia and Herzegovina. My luggage is stowed in the backseat and I’m seated next to the driver, an older gentleman in his late 40s or early 50s. Unlike other countless taxi rides, the car wasn’t silent inside. The driver was curious. Through gestures, signing, and broken English, we shared stories with each other, about the past, the present, and the future. He asked me about America and the election, and if Americans are really like what is shown in the news. I asked him about life in Sarajevo, and he told me about the problems with employment and people searching for work.

Behind his weathered face, there were eyes that had seen some of the worst tragedy in the region. He lived in the city during the Siege of Sarajevo in the 1990s and remembered Srebrenica in 1995. He lived through years where hate and spite penetrated the hearts of neighbors. Yet, through it all, the man was cheerful and still hopeful. Even from our conversation, he had a resounding hope about the people of Sarajevo. In thirty minutes, I understood a different kind of history in the region than I had during the four years earning my high school diploma.

This is one memory that persists from my experiences over the past five months. On January 17th, 2017, I moved across the oceans to Dubrovnik, Croatia. I studied in Dubrovnik from January until the middle of May.

During the semester and after, there were incomparable experiences that opened my eyes to a world that previously I only imagined. With my experiences with writing, there is a window that is open for a short time. The window is your inspiration. If you look out the window and see something incredible, you are filled with inspiration and you want to capture it. But when you step away, the window only remains open for a short time after. If you miss the opportunity, the window will close and the writing will never reflect it in the same way. This is my cumulative attempt at trying to capture the last five months of my life.

The blog post I wrote comes from this place in my life. It writes in a voice I would not write in today. It also does not accurately reflect my current perspectives. However, instead of tossing it, I figured to publish it unfinished with this disclaimer would be no different.

Unmodified text: The Integral of a Community 🔗

Many times I’ve sat down to write about the same topic in this same seat. Many times I’ve been filled with the same unique feeling. It’s difficult to put into words. It’s easier to understand it and describe it in my head. But it’s easier to describe it to others when I’m still feeling this feeling. It’s harder to come back to it later and write about it.

This “feeling” is something powerful and organic. I believe it is derived from a core part of what makes us human. In part, it’s a form of social stimulation, but it’s also a little more. The “feeling” is what I’m beginning to term the integral of a community.

integral: (adjective) ˈin(t)əɡrəl,inˈteɡrəl/ - necessary to make a whole complete; essential or fundamental.

From Oxford Dictionaries

What is a community? 🔗

Communities are a fundamental part of our daily lives. We all belong to a community in one form or another. In my view, community is a loosely-defined word that gives rise to many forms. Our immediate family is a community. Our workplaces are a community. Our friends are a community. Our schools are a community. Our homes are a community.

Maybe we feel different about some of the above examples of a community. Your feelings on your familial community may be different from mine. Maybe we feel different about our school communities. But regardless of where you fall, there is a community that you are attached to. Maybe you don’t realize it, maybe you do. But this community holds a special part in your heart. It is, by definition, integral to what makes you, you.

Going forward, it is important to establish your own personal definition of this integral community. Whatever group of people you feel most comfortable with. It doesn’t matter what size. It could be one person or it could be twenty. It could be a hundred. But this community is fundamentally important to you.

What is integral of a community? 🔗

Several different components comprise a different community. They are formed around a range of different topics. Communities can be based around blood ties. Your family. They can be based around a shared interest, like art or technology. You may belong to a community based on your profession, such as a group of educators. Or perhaps you belong to a community full of differences. All of its members come from different backgrounds, professions, races, or anything. Maybe it’s because of close geographical location. Maybe it’s because of a former close geographic location. It depends on the community you identify with.

With such wide difference, it can be curious what makes a community so incredible for you. What components are integral to you? If you break down the outer shell, the answer becomes more clearly visible.

You identify with a community when you share a mutual interest, passion, or engagement with the others in your community.

When you feel most interconnected to your community is when you can feel or understand this most.

< more here >

My community 🔗

My community is the free and open source software community at the Rochester Institute of Technology. There are several individuals who have built this community from the ground up to make it what it is. It has endured its fair share of hardships and challenges. It has celebrated victories and achievements among its members. In the stereotypical application of the phrase, it feels like family.

Our communal responsibility 🔗

Which is a lie: darkness or lightness?

Light illuminates all details,
Corners, etches, ink, faces,
The true nature of things is found.

Dark marks the details,
Obfuscates what you thought as truth,
An alternate reality presents itself.

Darkness is a master of tricks,
Or is it the light that plays with the head?
Whose word are you to take?

Where light exposes kindness, gratitude, warmth,
Dark brings hostility, hate, cold,
Both complement and counteract another.

Which is a lie: darkness or lightness?

The answer lies within,
Neither one is entirely true itself.
The secret lies within dawn and dusk.

Photo by elizabeth lies on Unsplash. Modified by Justin Wheeler. CC BY-SA 4.0.

Original annotation: This was in the random parking lot not too far from the Colony Manor apartment. I wrote this in the car.

It should have started with a bang,
But instead of sound,
Only light.

At a window facing out,
I stand.
Willed by a force absent my control.

Keychains jangling,
Steps toward the car,
Apartment lights in rearview.

The wind speaks stories:
of adventure, love, destiny.
My role is but an observer.

Thousand-year winds,
Thousand-mile winds,
Transoceanic drifts.

If you listen and if you feel,
See past, present, and future,
Sift through the fibers of your clothes.

The wind retreats to the clouds,
The clouds alight to sparks.
Rain washes the stories away.

Listen to your own words,
Vivid with imagination and dreams.
Impart your own being to the stream,
And you will never die.

Photo by Jake Weirick on Unsplash. Modified by Justin Wheeler. CC BY-SA 4.0.

I was cleaning out my saved notes on Telegram and found this untitled poem.

To walk a stranger on the path,
A path of former glory,
Filled with fearlessness,
And the structure of a cloud.

The path is the same.
The memories burn like a flame,
Reignited by repetition.
Strengthened by familiarity.

But it is not the same.
Once you were ingrained,
But no longer the same.
The difference is you.

Your own snapshots emerge,
Out of the dark room,
Into the light.
Side by side you can compare.

Colors blend,
Lines blur.
Faces merge,
Age shows.

From analog to digital,
The past stands before you.
Electrons absent from pocket,
Disconnected but immersed.

The classical poet's demise,
Never has appeared so clear.
Turning to cryptic meaning,
As it cannot be explained.

The sun sets on our histories,
But rises anew ahead in time.
Keep close your memories,
But remember one thing.

Do not let them consume your new world.