skarabac@gsd.harvard.edu
In all its emptiness, being lonely is full of surprises. On an unfilled day in the streets of Cambridge, I inevitably came across the "Almost Banned In Harvard Square Booksellers" book stand, where every book is priced pleasantly at two dollars. I browsed through the shelves to find a familiar name or a title and caught the IAN of an author’s last name. The book was titled "Mountains Stand Firm" written by John H. Aroian. It is the story of the first Armenians on the East Coast, working hard to establish the first Armenian Church – a characteristic of Armenians no matter in which part of the world they are found. I picked it up and read it in a few nights and realized that what I consider pain and suffering would seem like a joke when compared to the trials these first Armenians went through. So I will not try to explain to you how tough it is being away from family, or how much it hurts not having friends around. For that, you can turn to Mr. Aroian. Instead, I will tell you some of the surprises I unwrapped when I first moved to Boston to study Architecture at Harvard University.
First surprise arrived in the form of insanity. After three days of not talking to a single human being, I forgot what my voice sounded like. Naturally, I started talking to myself – just to hear something familiar and see if I still remembered it. It sounded so strange. "Is this really your voice?" I said, and immediately burst out in a loud laughter that went to incremental heights when I realized that not only was I talking by myself, I was also laughing alone in a room. I suppose that’s what they’re after when they put someone in solitary confinement.
As is the characteristic of any surprise, being lonely caught me off-guard and needless to say I felt trapped. Yet, I’ve never felt freer in my life. Everything I did, I did it for me without the thought that someone might be looking at, listing to, thinking about, or interpreting and judging what I do. So it was the first time in my life that I was able to unravel myself and see inside at who I really am. What would I read, write, or listen to if nobody was around and no one’s opinion mattered? What would I really wear if no one saw me? Would I really wear yellow shoes if my friends were around? Probably not; but here - nobody cares because there really isn’t anybody around that I care about. Through all this, a new me was revealed; one that did everything he liked without worrying about anyone’s opinion.
The surprise came with certain consequences. I had to apply the same logic of questioning to every aspect of my life. Would I really go to church if nobody saw me attend? Would I really do good if nobody was aware of it? This is the topic of a tho usand-page article, but bottom line is that I found out quickly that doing bad is so much easier.
Have you ever wondered why every Armenian is so firm on first building a church before building a school, or a library or even a house for himself? I suppose the first response would be "Of course they would first build a church - all Armenians are Christians…" Mr. Aroian would beg to differ. Without the church I would be nothing. Without the church Armenians would be nothing. Why the church exists is why we exist. It has shaped my morality and without it I will always be alone, and always do evil. So I am eternally indebted to those first Armenians that went through hell to build the First Armenian Church on the East Coast and I pray that one day, I’m able to return the favor to the generations that are on the way.
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