Long ago I made a commitment with a friend of mine. A dear brother. The godfather of my future children. Someone who had come into my life so fast and so strong he had rearranged all that I thought I knew and allowed me to see the depth of potential that lies within every passing moment.

The commitment I made was intangible; felt only through the powerful moving pictures of memory and shared imaginations for the future. It was not a commitment to one person or one place, but to a whole people and to this earth that sustains us. It was also a commitment to myself.

Part of it was to develop a trust in life that, no matter where it carried me, it would be the right place; an understanding that whatever decisions I would make henceforth would be the best I could make in the given situation; that every moment I am alive is a warm blessing, wrapped around a guiding lesson, sculpted from experience.

This commitment was made in a small village in Zimbabwe on the veranda of my brother's three room house under a bright white moon. It was near the end of my four-month stay and within it there was also a promise to one day return to this same veranda, unwrap the commitment and see what it held for us.

Last January this brother was killed in a car accident returning to Zimbabwe from South Africa on a trip to collect groceries. When he died, the commitment shuddered, it faltered in a momentary loss of Balance. I was struck with stillness. From the stillness came a question from every dusty corner. Why? Why now? I also questioned for what purpose did this brother, this mentor and prophet come into my life? And then leave as quick as he came? Is it right what I am doing?

From these questions, born from the stillness, I remembered the commitment, and it remembered me. It filled me with a courage and strength to carry on and to realize the promise I had made. I felt replenished with life and Balance returned. It seemed as though it was my brother's blood that was now coursing through my veins, filling me with a trust and confidence that this commitment is truth.

And so I lived this truth, and thus sounded the bells for my present calling; to go back to Zimbabwe, back to the little village of Rimbi and back to the veranda, the host of that long ago conversation that started it all. I go now, alone, with no expectations of what must become. It is not my duty to fulfill a prophecy but instead to observe, visit, feel, and experience the richness of the people, the redness of the soil, the vastness of the African landscape and the fullness of that bright white moon. Tichaonana, they say in Shona, ‘we shall see.’

- Silas Beardslee

You can find out more by visiting Balance for Zimbabwe.org

Welcome to the International Youth Initiative Program (YIP) 3rd generation! 

We are now well into our third year of YIP.  This third year has drawn 40 young people from 18 countries to step into something new, to begin the process of shaping their own future.  

Every day the morning theoretical courses are so intriguing you don’t want to miss them.  In fika coffee breaks, afternoon initiative times, community engagements, lunches, free time, weekends, and more there are endless possibilities of things to do. 

You could drift through the day from one experience to the next, but there is a calling, an opportunity to shape your own future, starting today.  Where do you choose to put your attention?  What do you create today?  YIP is a training in shaping your own future, the future in which you want to exist.

For a taste of this international group of change makers check out the video harvest from the first week of YIP here.  Stay connected throughout the year by visiting the YIP Participant website and watch the weekly harvest of each week's course. And stay tuned to live broadcasts of some of the Tuesday public lectures by contributors through the YIP website. 

-Kathleen Morse