The Magic Is in the Moment

Discovering My Armenian Roots

I am a classic tale of the non-integrated Armenian diaspora: Half-Armenian. Lacking community. Savoring summer dolma, photos of my great-grandparents, and the few occasions someone would recognize my surname. Aside from these fragments of a culture so removed from my life, I had nothing to connect myself to Armenia.

I first came to Armenia through Birthright Lite in 2023. I cried when the plane landed. I knew from day one that a month and a half would not be long enough. By day six I had decided that I would return, and by the time I went home I had decided I would be back within a year to do the full Birthright program—a promise I kept. In the time between these two trips, I also lost my grandmother, the biggest piece of Armenia I had known. It pushed me even further into this deep desire to explore where exactly I come from and why the Armenian identity is so strong and compelling. It has an inexplicable gravitational pull that beckons you closer.

Birthright Lite (which I spent in Gyumri) felt like an introductory course on Armenia. I picked up some language basics, made a handful of friends, and explored a few locations throughout the country before packing up and shipping myself home, still reeling from the unbelievably fast journey. I thought to myself, “surely if I double the duration of my visit, I won’t feel like it’s too short.” I ended up extending my 3-month stay multiple times, so clearly this was a comically naive attempt at rationalization. 5 months in, I’m considering making my stay indefinite.

I’ve found a lot of passion and purpose in my very busy life here. I’m quite fond of my jobsites—yes, all three of them (that I’ve somehow managed to juggle)—research and social media at Yerevan Zoo; storytelling for Knights of Vartan; content writing for Impact Hub. I’ve thoroughly enjoyed learning more about Armenia and its people through my volunteering, particularly with Knights of Vartan. Week after week I have the honor of telling the stories of individuals and families who have been forced to move their businesses and lives from Artsakh into Armenia, complete with the struggles they’ve endured and resilience they’ve exemplified. It’s contributed to the larger, ever-shifting concept I have of Armenia in my head and in my heart.

Falling in Love with Armenian Life

Of course I love my job sites, the excursions, and the food. I love the myriad street dogs and cats I’ve encountered. I’ve developed a relationship with my host family so deeply-rooted that I feel they are my own family now—laughing together; crying together. Armenia is also a writer’s playground. I’ve never felt so consistently inspired to write my poetry, crafting some of my favorite pieces to date. I know I have a tendency to romanticize my life, but the experience is so deeply beautiful and emotionally intense that I just can’t help myself.

All of this is lovely, but I must say that my favorite part of Armenia is the friends I have made. There is an indescribable force that pulls us closer, catalyzed by the fact that we share the experience of being diaspora, spend most of our time together, and just so happen to have serendipitously crossed paths at this very specific time in our lives.

I find myself having these moments of deep, conflicting grief and love, particularly at goodbye gatherings, thinking, “I’m never going to be around this specific group of people ever again.” And it comes in waves, too, where I want to hold onto the present so tightly I feel I could crush it in my palms. I’ve coped with a repetitive mantra: “Maybe the magic is in the moment.” It can only exist for a short burst because it shines so brightly. The sublimity is life-changingly bittersweet; it’s candy-coated and digs itself so deep into my heart that there are times I want to climb to the top of a mountain and scream into infinity because I am so full of love and gratitude.

I now find myself torn between two worlds and identities: the “me” that I am at home and the “me” that I am in Armenia. Of course, I’m always Natasha, but I understand the very different circumstances and contexts of America and Armenia. I distinctly remember this thought I had from my first trip here, laughing in an amused anger: “I’m going to have to spend a ridiculous amount of time and money coming back here as often as I can, for the rest of my life.”

I’ll return time and time again, because Armenia has become my second home. I feel my ancestors in every visit to Tsitsernakaberd and I taste my future in every cup of coffee. But I’m acutely aware that my time here is best experienced through the lens of savoring the present. Yes, the magic is in the moment, but it’s a magic that can be carried with you throughout a lifetime.