The rain falls lightly on the ground in the summer as I look up at the sky and feel the warm rain on my face. As I sit outside on a nice warm summer day, I think to myself, do I remember the first time I have ever felt the rain?
When I was little, I used to be so afraid of thunder and lightning storms as most little children are. My mother would hold me and tell me it's ok, that God is up in the sky bowling and taking pictures of us, and then I would believe it and be ok, but still cautioning myself to stay away from the windows and to not go outside to play. Then one day I got up the courage to step outside my front door, my adrenaline rushing, the wind blowing through my hair. As I stepped off the porch, I cringed a little as the thunder growled, as if my stomach was telling me that it's hungry. I walked out and felt the cool rain. As it started to hit my head and run down my cheeks, I stopped myself, thinking should I trust this cool water, but where is it coming from? As this water drenched my face and stuck to my skin, I laughed to myself thinking it's just like taking a bath, but outside water cannot hurt you!
As I got older, I have learned that rain can be a very good thing; it helps make things grow. It also hides your tears when you're feeling sad when you don’t want people to see you crying. Today, as I am older and very much wiser, when I hear thunder or see lightning, you can probably find me outside waiting to see that big show in the sky and then waiting for the big finale, the rain. When it rains, I think it's better than getting something new, even though you may see it all the time. It always seems to amaze me the way it sings me to sleep on those warm summer nights when I hear the thwack, thwack of the rain on my roof; there are some nights when I just await it, so that I can fall asleep peacefully. So what I take away from this earth life is the rain, and I hope if I am reincarnated, I become a rain drop!
Wednesday, August 14, 2013
Thanksgiving
While sitting in the car waiting to go down to my grandparents' house for Thanksgiving, I started to get annoyed at the fact that we were fifteen minutes late and my dad was just getting dressed. I just put in my headphones and listened to my Zune for a few more minutes until the rest of my family got in the car and started down the hill to my grandparent’s house. When we got there it was the usual, “Oh, I missed you so much, how’s school?
Everyone sat in the kitchen talking and drinking soda and wine while we waited for the peas to cook like every year. But I was surprised to learn that we were not the last to arrive, that my Great Grandpa Boyce was still not there. This was very odd, considering he is always the first to be there. Just as everyone started to talk of his absence, he walked in the door, and it just so happened that the peas were done.
We all sat down at the beautifully-decorated table with the fine china all set out and started to pass the food around the table in a counter-clockwise fashion. Then, the food train suddenly stopped. Grandpa Boyce was bent over in his chair, not moving, and gasping for breath. He was having a stroke. We called 911, and the paramedics came to the house and worked on him in the kitchen while my cousins, my brother and I were rushed into the living room, away from all the madness. Eventually, Grandpa Boyce was taken to the hospital, where he died a few weeks later.
My takeaway definitely isn't a happy memory, but it is one that really made me feel something. It wasn't sadness, although I was sad, and it wasn't being scared, although I was scared. It was something else. It was the realization that the world isn't a utopia. I know this very well now, but as an 11 year old girl, I generally thought the world was made up of sugar and spice and everything nice. This was my first glimpse of the world as it truly is, unfair, cold and real.
Everyone sat in the kitchen talking and drinking soda and wine while we waited for the peas to cook like every year. But I was surprised to learn that we were not the last to arrive, that my Great Grandpa Boyce was still not there. This was very odd, considering he is always the first to be there. Just as everyone started to talk of his absence, he walked in the door, and it just so happened that the peas were done.
We all sat down at the beautifully-decorated table with the fine china all set out and started to pass the food around the table in a counter-clockwise fashion. Then, the food train suddenly stopped. Grandpa Boyce was bent over in his chair, not moving, and gasping for breath. He was having a stroke. We called 911, and the paramedics came to the house and worked on him in the kitchen while my cousins, my brother and I were rushed into the living room, away from all the madness. Eventually, Grandpa Boyce was taken to the hospital, where he died a few weeks later.
My takeaway definitely isn't a happy memory, but it is one that really made me feel something. It wasn't sadness, although I was sad, and it wasn't being scared, although I was scared. It was something else. It was the realization that the world isn't a utopia. I know this very well now, but as an 11 year old girl, I generally thought the world was made up of sugar and spice and everything nice. This was my first glimpse of the world as it truly is, unfair, cold and real.
Reckless
It was in August about a year and a half ago, just a regular sunny summer day. I was out with my brothers and one of their friends on the new property riding four wheelers. I don't know why, but I was not aware of my surroundings and more reckless than I've ever been. I usually am so paranoid about my surroundings and the horrible things that can happen to me.
My behavior was beyond odd for me, driving at top speeds and racing around corners. My brothers' friend was sitting behind me on the four-wheeler, having the time of her life. There was no fear in me, until the next thing I knew I was rolling down a hill with the four-wheeler flipping over me, crushing me with every roll.
The only thing that kept me safe was my brothers' friend behind me. After the rolling had stopped, she had kicked the four-wheeler off of me, as I was pinned under it. All I remember is fragments, seeing light then dark every so often and feeling my body contort in weird formations. I thought for sure I had hurt myself and couldn't move when the rolling stopped. After she rolled it off of me, all I could hear was screaming from my brothers. I was in a blackout, a complete daze. I wasn't sure what was going on around me, but for some reason I felt perfectly fine!
My brothers picked me up and looked me in the face. I couldn't hear anything coming from their mouths. I was so confused, yet I felt fine. Finally, I snapped out of the daze, and I could hear them yelling at me, calling me stupid, completely ticked off. It took a few minutes for Kyle's anger to wear off before he asked me if I was alright. That was from a little help of his friend because without her he probably would have been yelling at me all afternoon.
At that point I was crying and confused, and my chest hurt, but every time they asked me if I was alright I said I was fine. I didn't care that I was in pain, because really, I was fine. I was on the bridge of something completely dangerous, and I was fine! I was still crying, dazed and confused. I could still hear them yelling at me, but inside I was smiling. I don't think I've ever been happier inside.
After they calmed down from their anger of my crashing the four-wheeler we started playing a game of volleyball. Quite the transition, their anger turned to tom foolery. I went from crying to smiling and laughing. I had moments of pain where I stopped to hold my ribs but tried to ignore it and kept going. After a while, Kyle noticed I was in pain and kept nagging me about it. I kept telling him I was fine and that there was no reason to get mom and dad into this because I didn't need them mad, too.
I don't know why this was a time in my life I felt most alive. I guess it's that sense of being so close to death that it's the closest thing to living.
My behavior was beyond odd for me, driving at top speeds and racing around corners. My brothers' friend was sitting behind me on the four-wheeler, having the time of her life. There was no fear in me, until the next thing I knew I was rolling down a hill with the four-wheeler flipping over me, crushing me with every roll.
The only thing that kept me safe was my brothers' friend behind me. After the rolling had stopped, she had kicked the four-wheeler off of me, as I was pinned under it. All I remember is fragments, seeing light then dark every so often and feeling my body contort in weird formations. I thought for sure I had hurt myself and couldn't move when the rolling stopped. After she rolled it off of me, all I could hear was screaming from my brothers. I was in a blackout, a complete daze. I wasn't sure what was going on around me, but for some reason I felt perfectly fine!
My brothers picked me up and looked me in the face. I couldn't hear anything coming from their mouths. I was so confused, yet I felt fine. Finally, I snapped out of the daze, and I could hear them yelling at me, calling me stupid, completely ticked off. It took a few minutes for Kyle's anger to wear off before he asked me if I was alright. That was from a little help of his friend because without her he probably would have been yelling at me all afternoon.
At that point I was crying and confused, and my chest hurt, but every time they asked me if I was alright I said I was fine. I didn't care that I was in pain, because really, I was fine. I was on the bridge of something completely dangerous, and I was fine! I was still crying, dazed and confused. I could still hear them yelling at me, but inside I was smiling. I don't think I've ever been happier inside.
After they calmed down from their anger of my crashing the four-wheeler we started playing a game of volleyball. Quite the transition, their anger turned to tom foolery. I went from crying to smiling and laughing. I had moments of pain where I stopped to hold my ribs but tried to ignore it and kept going. After a while, Kyle noticed I was in pain and kept nagging me about it. I kept telling him I was fine and that there was no reason to get mom and dad into this because I didn't need them mad, too.
I don't know why this was a time in my life I felt most alive. I guess it's that sense of being so close to death that it's the closest thing to living.
Alex
The most important person in my life is my little brother, Alex. Most of my memories are about him. But the memory that I’ll remember till I die is the memory of my little brother's 5th birthday party.
My brother has meant a lot to me from the day he was born. It's kind of like he is my son because of how much I take care of him. Everyone knows that I would do anything to make my little brother happy, as long as he is safe and is learning the values in life he should be. If my little brother wants anything he usually asks me for it, and because I spoil my brother he usually gets what he wants.
Alex’s 5th birthday was May 18, 2009. It was a Monday, so we had school, and we picked him up from school that day. The weather was nice, warm, and sunny. So for most of the night since he got home from school, he played outside. For dinner we had his favorite, hot dogs and homemade mac & cheese. So the house was full of the smell of macaroni and cheese. After dinner, my mom told me to keep Alex in the house while she was outside. I already knew what she was doing, putting the balloons on his birthday present. We thought we would try to have him guess what it was, so we gave him a helmet to put on. He thought it he was getting a bike, but he was wrong. So after my mom was all set for him to come outside, I opened the door and said, "Lets go outside."
I will always remember the smile on his face when he saw his Powerwheels four wheeler. He always wanted to ride the bigger four wheeler with me, but my parents were scared he would get hurt. He was so shocked. His smile was as big as a slice of watermelon. It was funny seeing him try to drive the four wheeler. At first he would push the “gas” and go about 10 inches then stop. Then after awhile he got ahold of the go part but didn’t know how to turn so he would just go in circles. All night he drove that four wheeler till the battery died.
He’s driven that four wheeler a lot since he’s gotten it. It was the greatest feeling seeing him surprised and happy. Just the memory of his smile that day I’ll remember for the rest of my life.
My brother has meant a lot to me from the day he was born. It's kind of like he is my son because of how much I take care of him. Everyone knows that I would do anything to make my little brother happy, as long as he is safe and is learning the values in life he should be. If my little brother wants anything he usually asks me for it, and because I spoil my brother he usually gets what he wants.
Alex’s 5th birthday was May 18, 2009. It was a Monday, so we had school, and we picked him up from school that day. The weather was nice, warm, and sunny. So for most of the night since he got home from school, he played outside. For dinner we had his favorite, hot dogs and homemade mac & cheese. So the house was full of the smell of macaroni and cheese. After dinner, my mom told me to keep Alex in the house while she was outside. I already knew what she was doing, putting the balloons on his birthday present. We thought we would try to have him guess what it was, so we gave him a helmet to put on. He thought it he was getting a bike, but he was wrong. So after my mom was all set for him to come outside, I opened the door and said, "Lets go outside."
I will always remember the smile on his face when he saw his Powerwheels four wheeler. He always wanted to ride the bigger four wheeler with me, but my parents were scared he would get hurt. He was so shocked. His smile was as big as a slice of watermelon. It was funny seeing him try to drive the four wheeler. At first he would push the “gas” and go about 10 inches then stop. Then after awhile he got ahold of the go part but didn’t know how to turn so he would just go in circles. All night he drove that four wheeler till the battery died.
He’s driven that four wheeler a lot since he’s gotten it. It was the greatest feeling seeing him surprised and happy. Just the memory of his smile that day I’ll remember for the rest of my life.
Completely Serene
I opened the door to my house let out Abby, my yellow Labrador and one of my favorite creatures in the whole world and walked down through behind her. It was a peaceful late spring day right after a long day of school, the sun was shining, but it wasn’t suffering the atmosphere with heat, it was just shining. There was a cool, light, gentle breeze coming from the south and it made the perfect temperature, the perfect spring day, my favorite kind of day.
I stopped on the steps and looked at Abby sitting in the lawn with her eyes closed, peacefully breathing in the spring air and enjoying the breeze. I began to walk behind the house towards the backyard as Abby followed me wagging her tail. I got to the backyard and stood still and Abby sat next to me as we looked over the valley, the view of fields, scattered houses, blue sky, trees, and animals. I could hear the creek running down below and Frosty, our horse, eating the grass and ruffling his tail. No thoughts, worries, no loud noise or disturbances, just the breeze brushing my face. A perfect definition and example of the country; it was simply priceless. I closed my eyes and took in a deep breath of the fresh country air; I’m sure Abby did too. I opened them and we both rested patiently soaking in everything, the view, God’s creation completely serene.
I thanked him for not putting me anywhere else but right here. It felt as if we were one with heaven and earth and that nothing could disrupt our presence. It felt as if I was truly living and that is why it has become my takeaway moment.
My Life, Through Music, Enveloped in Love
It was Sunday morning, and I was driving south from Lewisburg, PA to Harrisburg to meet my friends Mark and Amanda, now married, for breakfast. The previous day had been full of driving and getting stuck in traffic, over 3 hours of traffic, and my patience had run thin before my show at Bucknell University in Lewisburg. I was getting sick, my ear plugged, and I was coming down with an intensely sore throat. The show was successful in that I played well, and those students who were there enjoyed themselves, but it was not an overly attentive audience or a large one to boot. I had sang for the first time in a long time so aerobically that my lungs ached, a feeling I missed and recognized as a full effort.
The road that I was driving on snaked along the Susquehanna River, and the traffic was almost non-existent. I had driven the road in the pitch dark the night before, racing to make my show on-time, in the rain. Sunday was brilliantly sunny, with only feathery clouds making up the sky otherwise very blue. Pennsylvania still had not awoken for the Spring yet, and trees sat bare along the river, waiting for the warmer weather. It was unseasonably cool, just 35 degrees or so.
The night before I met Mark and Amanda for dinner before my show, driving the extra 90 miles or so to get to see them. It was a reunion of sorts, but also a lot of holding, hugging, and making plans. Mark and I would begin to do some business together playing weddings and functions, as he is a talented audio engineer, and more importantly, family to me. He and Amanda would make time to visit me in Brooklyn, and Mark and I would make time to share more golf outings. It became very urgent all of a sudden to remain in very close contact. We both had very heavy minds lately, well, the three of us.
Mark's father, a man I've known almost my entire life, was and still is terribly sick. His body is shutting down after a lifelong bout of diabetes, and was now in intensive care and a medically-induced coma in Maryland. A young man still, he was a tremendously successful administrative nurse, who ran operating rooms at two hospitals near Salisbury, Maryland. He was very proud, and since his kidneys shut down, and he had a pacemaker inserted in his heart, thus forcing him to go on disability, he was enormously upset and ornery, often taking his frustration out on Mark's Mom. He would say things like "What's the point of this, Cathy? I'm not even living!!"
Amanda has lost her father a few years ago very suddenly. One of 5 children, she received a call one day that he had died while running outside in the oppressive heat at a track near her childhood house outside of Buffalo. He, too, was very young, full of life, and a remarkable man. His loss, to this day, stings even me. She and Mark have forever bonded over losing him, and you could tell how the talk of Mark's Father's illness has brought up those feelings.
I have sensed now more than ever that my parents are splitting up, and the inevitability of it all comes from my mother's lack of discussion on the topic. She treats me as an equal, and has often called me for advice, or to run her plans by me to see if she is acting reasonably. When I requested to know how things were going, she told me "not to go there" and that she did not walk to talk about it. In addition, when I told her I would not be home for Easter, she seemed more than fine with my not being there, at least outwardly. So, my suspicions are heightened, and I think she knows they are, too.
Well, there were the three of us at dinner, laughing, swapping stories, making plans, watching hockey, and all the while taking moments to update each other on the seriousness that seems to swirl around us.
Back to my drive. As the river snaked with the road, I looked to my right for the first time, and saw the might of the Susquehanna, and the life it gives to everything that touches it. I saw the sun hitting me, on the chilly day, and somehow making me very warm as I drove. I could not feel the car, now in cruise control, as it made nary a bump as I turned through each S-curve. I got a text message from Mark asking where I was, and said I would be there in 15 minutes.
I arrived at their house, to find Mark with his coat on, and Amanda still in her pajamas. I asked where we were going for breakfast, and he told me he had to leave to do a sound engineering show for a band concert, but he had waited to leave because he wanted to say goodbye to me first. He gave me a big hug and said, "I love ya, buddy, it was great seeing you!" I responded "I love you, too, man, have a safe trip and a good show." He then left. I went to breakfast with Amanda, and we spent time together for the first time since college, when she and I became incredibly close. We talked about Mark's Dad, my parents, her Father, and about me someday finding a woman. Upon my leaving to drive back to Brooklyn, she too gave me a big hug and said "I love you very much, I'm so glad you visited us." It was one of the most beautiful moments ever in my life.
That's my Takeaway now. My life, through music, completely and totally enveloped in love. I am not ashamed to tell my friends, male or female, that I love them now. And I mean it, deeply, and have done so numerous times since then.
I am so moved by what we as people can do to each other, lifting one another up, sharing small moments and making relationships that last forever. How an hour out of my way driving will never be a burden if it is for the closeness of friendship and family, and how you take people with you for the journey, even if they live hours away.
Huge Surprise in My Life
I was asked to do a very large speech for a school organization, and I didn’t think I could do it at all. I realized after all my fears and many nervous breakdowns that I was really going to have to do this speech. I went down to Delhi College and had to give the speech there that day. I was really anxious and sick on the bus ride down there because I didn’t think I could give the speech. I couldn’t eat and I couldn’t stop worrying about it. When we arrived at the college, I knew then that I couldn’t turn back.
I got off the bus to head to the speech. We arrived late, so I was running in high heels. I was shaking because I didn’t think I was going to make it in time. I got into the area where I was going to have to give the speech. I was still shaking and thinking how in the world can I do this? I walked in the classroom and to my surprise, I saw a whole room of college students. My jaw dropped! I thought to myself, I have to give this speech in front of college students? I had only expected an audience of three people! I was really intimidated. But I knew then that I couldn’t turn back.
I went up to the podium and started to give my speech. My legs and my whole body were shaking, and I knew that my face was red because I could feel that it was really hot. Everything rushed at me at once. I looked out at everyone and I felt like all eyes were staring at me, wondering what they were thinking to themselves. Did I repeat myself? Was it really bad? Did it even go along with the criteria? It felt like forever when I was giving the speech, even though it was only four minutes long. I kept thinking when is this going to be over?
After, I thought to myself, thank god that’s over with! I didn’t think I did very well. But I proved myself wrong by earning a second place medal! That’s a moment I will never forget about. I was so proud of myself and in shock when I heard my name being called. I couldn’t believe it was me! I had never placed in any competitions especially a speech in front of college students! I felt so alive after I won the medal because I realized I had accomplished something I didn’t ever think I could accomplish. It has given me so much more self-confidence and I’ve realized that I can accomplish anything I set my mind to. I showed people that I can accomplish more than they would expect of me, and I view myself in a whole new light.
Whenever I start to have negative thoughts I think of myself standing there receiving that second place medal and I know I can achieve most anything now. That’s a moment I will take away from this life forever.
I got off the bus to head to the speech. We arrived late, so I was running in high heels. I was shaking because I didn’t think I was going to make it in time. I got into the area where I was going to have to give the speech. I was still shaking and thinking how in the world can I do this? I walked in the classroom and to my surprise, I saw a whole room of college students. My jaw dropped! I thought to myself, I have to give this speech in front of college students? I had only expected an audience of three people! I was really intimidated. But I knew then that I couldn’t turn back.
I went up to the podium and started to give my speech. My legs and my whole body were shaking, and I knew that my face was red because I could feel that it was really hot. Everything rushed at me at once. I looked out at everyone and I felt like all eyes were staring at me, wondering what they were thinking to themselves. Did I repeat myself? Was it really bad? Did it even go along with the criteria? It felt like forever when I was giving the speech, even though it was only four minutes long. I kept thinking when is this going to be over?
After, I thought to myself, thank god that’s over with! I didn’t think I did very well. But I proved myself wrong by earning a second place medal! That’s a moment I will never forget about. I was so proud of myself and in shock when I heard my name being called. I couldn’t believe it was me! I had never placed in any competitions especially a speech in front of college students! I felt so alive after I won the medal because I realized I had accomplished something I didn’t ever think I could accomplish. It has given me so much more self-confidence and I’ve realized that I can accomplish anything I set my mind to. I showed people that I can accomplish more than they would expect of me, and I view myself in a whole new light.
Whenever I start to have negative thoughts I think of myself standing there receiving that second place medal and I know I can achieve most anything now. That’s a moment I will take away from this life forever.
His Light Alone
It was about a year ago……………
I was only fifteen years old when it happened…………
It was a sad experience, yet it is my most cherished memory……………..
I often wonder if I’ll ever be able to forget it………………
On that day, only a year ago, I gave up the greatest part of myself.
I gave up my light……………………..
All my life, I had but one goal – to help people, to be a hero, to be the name that would be remembered for generations to come. Then, it happened…… My closest relative, my great grandfather, passed away…… As his body burned in the crematorium, so did my light, my purity, my soul. He was the one person that I had promised to be of the light. When he died, I had no more reason to withstand the power in my heart. I had no reason not to unleash the darkness that I had contained for so long, even if it changed me forever.
I took up the black coat, a symbol of my own tainted soul. I corrupted my mind with hatred for all mankind, but this darkness is not the memory that I cherish so deeply.
The memory that I will be taking with me when I leave this earth is a happy one, a memory born in light rather than darkness. One year ago, I welcomed something into my life that chased the darkness from within my soul, I welcomed the one true light that has cleansed the hearts of men for eons. On that one day, one year ago, I accepted Christ as my one true savior.
His light alone is the thing that cleansed me of my sins and allowed me to see the error of my ways. My eyes were opened to the demons that I had allowed myself to be associated with. Now I am a purer soul, never again to be fooled by a demon’s corrupt shadow of evil.
I was only fifteen years old when it happened…………
It was a sad experience, yet it is my most cherished memory……………..
I often wonder if I’ll ever be able to forget it………………
On that day, only a year ago, I gave up the greatest part of myself.
I gave up my light……………………..
All my life, I had but one goal – to help people, to be a hero, to be the name that would be remembered for generations to come. Then, it happened…… My closest relative, my great grandfather, passed away…… As his body burned in the crematorium, so did my light, my purity, my soul. He was the one person that I had promised to be of the light. When he died, I had no more reason to withstand the power in my heart. I had no reason not to unleash the darkness that I had contained for so long, even if it changed me forever.
I took up the black coat, a symbol of my own tainted soul. I corrupted my mind with hatred for all mankind, but this darkness is not the memory that I cherish so deeply.
The memory that I will be taking with me when I leave this earth is a happy one, a memory born in light rather than darkness. One year ago, I welcomed something into my life that chased the darkness from within my soul, I welcomed the one true light that has cleansed the hearts of men for eons. On that one day, one year ago, I accepted Christ as my one true savior.
His light alone is the thing that cleansed me of my sins and allowed me to see the error of my ways. My eyes were opened to the demons that I had allowed myself to be associated with. Now I am a purer soul, never again to be fooled by a demon’s corrupt shadow of evil.
Yellow Wildflowers
I went on a camping trip with friends to the beach in Northern California.
A group of us left the next morning, and took a drive up the coast to San Francisco.
It was a usually talkative bunch, but that day everyone was silent.
We rolled down all the windows, and wound our way up highway 1.
I remember the smell of the ocean, and the way the sun felt so welcoming.
And as we drove through a field of yellow wildflowers, I remember feeling so peaceful and joyful in that moment, so lucky to be sharing the day with these people, and so certain that we -- and all of this -- were connected, and a part of something bigger.
It's a belief I value, and can always come up with arguments for, but never in my life has it been so wonderfully obvious, and intuitively true… Something I could feel with all the cells in my body; a kind of serenity I only hope for most of the time. I just felt truly grateful.
I try to remind myself of that feeling, when contentment escapes me, and I always think back to that day.
A group of us left the next morning, and took a drive up the coast to San Francisco.
It was a usually talkative bunch, but that day everyone was silent.
We rolled down all the windows, and wound our way up highway 1.
I remember the smell of the ocean, and the way the sun felt so welcoming.
And as we drove through a field of yellow wildflowers, I remember feeling so peaceful and joyful in that moment, so lucky to be sharing the day with these people, and so certain that we -- and all of this -- were connected, and a part of something bigger.
It's a belief I value, and can always come up with arguments for, but never in my life has it been so wonderfully obvious, and intuitively true… Something I could feel with all the cells in my body; a kind of serenity I only hope for most of the time. I just felt truly grateful.
I try to remind myself of that feeling, when contentment escapes me, and I always think back to that day.
The Ugly Pictures
I know my takeaway isn't supposed to be a purchased experience. But you'll have to trust that without going out of my comfort zone, I wouldn't have had it. Two years ago, I had the opportunity to travel with an adventure group to an isolated part of the Grand Canyon called Havasupai. A group of friends, fellow teachers, and students of mine stayed for several fun-filled and relaxing days, hiking, swimming, laughing, and spending time making new friends. One night we even hiked up to an abandoned mine where the darkness obliterated everything and even the rushing sound of neighboring Havasu Falls was obscured. The highlight of the trip was an eight-mile hike deeper into the canyon where very few people ever visit. The descent down a neighboring waterfall is quite physically demanding, which prevents an abundance of visitors and also helps to keep the area quite pristine. It was an exceptionally hot day, and our group made a joint decision to keep to the water path on the way back. The guides admitted that they had never gone this way, but we had faith in their honing skills to return us safely to the camp later. Soon, we happened upon a most unexpected waterfall. Partially obscured by mesquite trees, the rock itself was a dome-shaped, grey travertine formation rounded outward, and the water falling from it ranged from soft drops on the sides to a raging downpour toward the center. Most of us could not resist the lure of standing at the heart of such an intense natural force. The power of that part of the waterfall was like a heavy, muscle-beating shower pounding every inch of flesh; my hair became a melted mess, snaking down my face into my eyes and nose, my clothes clinging to my body, obliterating everything else around until it was just me and the water falling helter-skelter on my skin, and I stayed there for several minutes, just feeling the rush. As I stepped away from the waterfall, there a few feet away in the water stood my friend Cindy, a wide smile on her face, her body in the same condition, clothes clinging heavily from the waterlog of the falls, and for some reason, I wanted to capture the moment, so I raised my camera, and so did Cindy at the same time, both aiming at one another, each daring the other, "Go ahead, take it!,” the other laughing, half screaming, “No! No way!” the rushing sound of the waterfall still urging us on. "Well, we have to make a pact," I offered. "No one sees this. PROMISE? It WILL NOT end up in the school yearbook!” I laughed.
“OK,” she agreed. The ugly pictures are for our eyes only!”
“One, two, three…” Click! We took the pictures, hers of me standing there in the river, beads of water falling off my skin, clothes clinging at lopsided angles, hair dripping, my smile spontaneous and genuine, Cindy the same, waterlogged clothes stuck messily to every curve, a smile so wide it opened up the universe.
That moment remains the only time in my life that I have ever not been self-conscious of my looks. I did not care about how my makeup might have been smeared or my hair wasn’t looking so great, or my body wasn’t in the best physical condition; I was just, one-hundred percent myself, free of society’s expectations for me, awkward, toothy, curvaceous, and so damned full of energy and joy and the essence of enjoying the pleasure of the moment! If after death, we are freed from the physical prisons of our bodies, if that is part of the heaven we seek, I believe that on that day I was allowed a fleeting preview of what that might feel like. That's my earth memory that I will take with me. The one moment I've had of simply feeling joyful and alive and free.
“OK,” she agreed. The ugly pictures are for our eyes only!”
“One, two, three…” Click! We took the pictures, hers of me standing there in the river, beads of water falling off my skin, clothes clinging at lopsided angles, hair dripping, my smile spontaneous and genuine, Cindy the same, waterlogged clothes stuck messily to every curve, a smile so wide it opened up the universe.
That moment remains the only time in my life that I have ever not been self-conscious of my looks. I did not care about how my makeup might have been smeared or my hair wasn’t looking so great, or my body wasn’t in the best physical condition; I was just, one-hundred percent myself, free of society’s expectations for me, awkward, toothy, curvaceous, and so damned full of energy and joy and the essence of enjoying the pleasure of the moment! If after death, we are freed from the physical prisons of our bodies, if that is part of the heaven we seek, I believe that on that day I was allowed a fleeting preview of what that might feel like. That's my earth memory that I will take with me. The one moment I've had of simply feeling joyful and alive and free.
Wet Dewey Grass
when i was 18 i went to a party with a friend and the lifeguards from the swimming pool where he worked in the summer. in the middle of the night a bunch of us walked from the house where the party was, accross a golf course to the pool where some of them worked. we took off our clothes and swam. a couple people who had just met started making out in the pool. we are all splashing around in cool but not cold water, and a very clear mid summer night. we were probably only there for 20 minutes, but it seemed infinite...until the police showed up.
we all scattered, most of us leaving our clothes behind, and running, uphill through a dewey-wet fairway. we got back to the house and we realized that my friend had lost his driver's licences, which meant the police might find it in/near the pool...so we went back!
the police were rummaging through the clothes and nochalantly talking on their walkie talkies...my friend had gone to one end of the pool, behind the bushes, and from the other end of the pool behind some other bushes i could see him pointing to the bottom of the pool...the police were closer to him. so i got up, slipped into the pool, dove down, recovered his license and got out.
just as i thought i was getting back to the bushes safely one of the poice saw me, and i ran. my friend saw what had happened and so as the police got near me he let out a hilarious noisy yell and they stopped and went over in his direction...but he was already running. his funny noise bought us about 5-10 seconds of running time. by the time they cleared the bushes and pointed their flashlights we were flying up the hill, in soaking wet boxers, me clutching my friend's driver's license.
we had just run the hill once and it was late and of course we had been drinking. earlier in the day we had run a couple dozen 220 sprints and so i wasn't sure if our legs would make it. we flew up the hill, in barefeet, with the wet dewey grass beneath us at every step, and i realized that for about half the 5 minute run i was looking up at the stars, it was so clear that night (but fortunately for us, no moon)...i looked over at my friend and he was looking up at the stars too...and for a moment we couldn't feel our feet.
we got back to the house OK and drank a few more beers...
we all scattered, most of us leaving our clothes behind, and running, uphill through a dewey-wet fairway. we got back to the house and we realized that my friend had lost his driver's licences, which meant the police might find it in/near the pool...so we went back!
the police were rummaging through the clothes and nochalantly talking on their walkie talkies...my friend had gone to one end of the pool, behind the bushes, and from the other end of the pool behind some other bushes i could see him pointing to the bottom of the pool...the police were closer to him. so i got up, slipped into the pool, dove down, recovered his license and got out.
just as i thought i was getting back to the bushes safely one of the poice saw me, and i ran. my friend saw what had happened and so as the police got near me he let out a hilarious noisy yell and they stopped and went over in his direction...but he was already running. his funny noise bought us about 5-10 seconds of running time. by the time they cleared the bushes and pointed their flashlights we were flying up the hill, in soaking wet boxers, me clutching my friend's driver's license.
we had just run the hill once and it was late and of course we had been drinking. earlier in the day we had run a couple dozen 220 sprints and so i wasn't sure if our legs would make it. we flew up the hill, in barefeet, with the wet dewey grass beneath us at every step, and i realized that for about half the 5 minute run i was looking up at the stars, it was so clear that night (but fortunately for us, no moon)...i looked over at my friend and he was looking up at the stars too...and for a moment we couldn't feel our feet.
we got back to the house OK and drank a few more beers...
Vague Purple Darkness
My takeaway isn't a warm fuzzy feeling. The good days of my life, and there are many, don't make me feel alive as much as they remind me of a dream from which i might awake at any moment. My takeaway is a very sad time, a time in which life stung like a bitch, and made me sit up and take notice.
I was 17 years old. I'd just recently broken up with my first love. My parents had offered to let me re-do my room, and i was really happy to start a project that would get my mind off things. But this isn't a mopey woe-is-me story.
It's 4am i'm taking the SATs in a month my life will be decided based on some little grey dots which i will "completely fill in". I'm tired i'm sick of high school i see no end in sight. i've felt numb to all emotion minus distress and sadness for weeks now. i'm writing in a notebook one i started after the breakup so i didn't have to read the stuff i wrote while we were going out. i'm sitting in my room in my "bed" which is a mattress on the ground. my walls smell like wet paint the hue is deep, deep purple. the purple of a crayola marker the purple of a priest's robes. the purple we associate with sadness and rage. my walls yell out at me and i yell back, sobbing as i hit the floor with my fist, writing even as the tears blind me even as my bones hurt from the wood they are pressed against. I am miserable, i am ugly, i am lost. tears run down my face, wetting behind my ears and blindind me to anything but a vague purple darkness. and in this moment i feel the pure essence, the almost tangible THING that can't be anything but life. i have never been more lost. it's not just the breakup. its the loss of my grandmother, the fights with my mom, the stress of SATs and college. it's self-dissatisfaction. it's friends who just don't care enough, or maybe it's my refusal to let them care. It's the uncertainty of a future i couldn't put my finger on. but the new wooden floor cools my hot tears and cheeks. the notebook absorbs the anger from my scrawled scratched writing. and with the smell of paint and wood varnish lingering in my head i cry myself, sob myself to sleep knowing that life goes on. from the deepest depths, from absolute bottom, there's nowhere to go but up. its something i have taken away, something i cling to at the moments when there's nothing else to grasp.
I was 17 years old. I'd just recently broken up with my first love. My parents had offered to let me re-do my room, and i was really happy to start a project that would get my mind off things. But this isn't a mopey woe-is-me story.
It's 4am i'm taking the SATs in a month my life will be decided based on some little grey dots which i will "completely fill in". I'm tired i'm sick of high school i see no end in sight. i've felt numb to all emotion minus distress and sadness for weeks now. i'm writing in a notebook one i started after the breakup so i didn't have to read the stuff i wrote while we were going out. i'm sitting in my room in my "bed" which is a mattress on the ground. my walls smell like wet paint the hue is deep, deep purple. the purple of a crayola marker the purple of a priest's robes. the purple we associate with sadness and rage. my walls yell out at me and i yell back, sobbing as i hit the floor with my fist, writing even as the tears blind me even as my bones hurt from the wood they are pressed against. I am miserable, i am ugly, i am lost. tears run down my face, wetting behind my ears and blindind me to anything but a vague purple darkness. and in this moment i feel the pure essence, the almost tangible THING that can't be anything but life. i have never been more lost. it's not just the breakup. its the loss of my grandmother, the fights with my mom, the stress of SATs and college. it's self-dissatisfaction. it's friends who just don't care enough, or maybe it's my refusal to let them care. It's the uncertainty of a future i couldn't put my finger on. but the new wooden floor cools my hot tears and cheeks. the notebook absorbs the anger from my scrawled scratched writing. and with the smell of paint and wood varnish lingering in my head i cry myself, sob myself to sleep knowing that life goes on. from the deepest depths, from absolute bottom, there's nowhere to go but up. its something i have taken away, something i cling to at the moments when there's nothing else to grasp.
Yellow
Ro O'Donnell often talks about her "yellow." Yellow is everything pure; it is God; it is happiness; it is her wife; it is her children. Ro says she lost her yellow for a time; two years after she began her show. It was not pure anymore. Then she went back on Broadway. She says when she steps out onto that stage, she remembers why she got into show business. It is everything she dreamed it would be when she was a child.
I know yellow. It is when I first realized I was alive. I was twelve years old. I had an immense fear of the stage. In elementary school, I couldn't even deal with a concert. I once passed out when I was onstage. Being in front of people made me too nervous. I decided that type of life was not for me.
When I was in 6th grade, I was encouraged to audition for the spring musical production at my school by it's director. I politely said, "No thank you," instantly remembering the last time I was on stage. But she insisted and wouldn't stop, so reluctantly, I auditioned. I got a great part and then the panic really set in. I was nervous about the show, but I was even more nervous about being nervous. It was a sick cycle of anxiety.
So it's opening night. I thought I was going to die. I couldn't wait for it to be over. And I remember thinking to myself before we went on, "What am I nervous about? I know my lines and the audience is just a bunch of people. What am I nervous about?" Before I knew it I was onstage and looked out into the audience; I couldn't see anything. The lights were blinding me and it felt just like a rehearsal. Quickly, all of the nerves drained out of me, and I was in character. Nothing mattered except the person I was talking to and the relationship our characters were building right there on the stage. The minute my scene was over, I stood in the wings and stared at the stage. I wanted to rush right back on.
Then it was the final night of the show. I didn't realize it but it was the true test of my abilities and my nerves. It was one of the last scenes and someone forgot to put my prop in the bag I was to retrieve it from. I cannot for the life of me, remember exactly how I played off of it. But I'll never forget the roar of laughter from the audience. People went crazy. That laughter came into my body and I was alive. I was not playing a character, I was the person.
It was yellow.
I remember that feeling every time I am on stage now, but the feeling is different. It's not about me anymore. It's about the love I create with the people I create it with. We are all alive. If I had a choice, I'd never leave. I am no other color than yellow.
I've tried to find that yellow- that life- everyday. Sometimes I feel it when the sun shines on me the right way, or when the bay breeze blows on my face on a summer's night, or when I see a child smile, or when I am in Disney World (a place that can only promise that happiness)- but it's not a vivid as when I am on stage.
Happy colors are there, but they are not yellow.
I know yellow. It is when I first realized I was alive. I was twelve years old. I had an immense fear of the stage. In elementary school, I couldn't even deal with a concert. I once passed out when I was onstage. Being in front of people made me too nervous. I decided that type of life was not for me.
When I was in 6th grade, I was encouraged to audition for the spring musical production at my school by it's director. I politely said, "No thank you," instantly remembering the last time I was on stage. But she insisted and wouldn't stop, so reluctantly, I auditioned. I got a great part and then the panic really set in. I was nervous about the show, but I was even more nervous about being nervous. It was a sick cycle of anxiety.
So it's opening night. I thought I was going to die. I couldn't wait for it to be over. And I remember thinking to myself before we went on, "What am I nervous about? I know my lines and the audience is just a bunch of people. What am I nervous about?" Before I knew it I was onstage and looked out into the audience; I couldn't see anything. The lights were blinding me and it felt just like a rehearsal. Quickly, all of the nerves drained out of me, and I was in character. Nothing mattered except the person I was talking to and the relationship our characters were building right there on the stage. The minute my scene was over, I stood in the wings and stared at the stage. I wanted to rush right back on.
Then it was the final night of the show. I didn't realize it but it was the true test of my abilities and my nerves. It was one of the last scenes and someone forgot to put my prop in the bag I was to retrieve it from. I cannot for the life of me, remember exactly how I played off of it. But I'll never forget the roar of laughter from the audience. People went crazy. That laughter came into my body and I was alive. I was not playing a character, I was the person.
It was yellow.
I remember that feeling every time I am on stage now, but the feeling is different. It's not about me anymore. It's about the love I create with the people I create it with. We are all alive. If I had a choice, I'd never leave. I am no other color than yellow.
I've tried to find that yellow- that life- everyday. Sometimes I feel it when the sun shines on me the right way, or when the bay breeze blows on my face on a summer's night, or when I see a child smile, or when I am in Disney World (a place that can only promise that happiness)- but it's not a vivid as when I am on stage.
Happy colors are there, but they are not yellow.
Bath Spa
I was in England, studying in the fall in Manchester, and I decided to take a trip to Bath Spa, in the southwest of England. It is about 5 hours by train, and I went because I have an affinity for Latin and Ancient Roman culture, and Bath was the center for ancient Roman Britannia.
It is famous for the natural spring of hot water that bubbles up every day, millions - literally millions - of liters of water surface every day, and the Romans thought the spring was a healing spring from the goddess Minerva, goddess of wisdom, so they built an elaborate temple to honor Her.
Anyways, I went there because I couldn’t afford to go to Italy, and it’s better than nothing, right? So I left on a Friday, alone, and was going for the weekend. But that is not the takeaway. Here goes:
I woke up early that day, and immediately set out for breakfast in the city center. There was a small little café you would expect to find in Europe, and I went in, and found that I was the only customer inside. I bought a bagel with cream cheese and a pot of Earl grey tea, and went to their upstairs where they had window seats looking out on one of the roundabouts in the city. It was only 7:30am, which is inhumanely early for me, but I think the time to sleep is when you’re home. Anyways, I sat upstairs, and enjoyed the best bagel of my life, and the best tea of my life, and thought to myself how nice it was to have three days without checking a computer for messages, or worrying about text messages, or checking e-mail or voice mail. I had a ‘moment of clarity’ a few days prior where I realized that despite my greatest efforts, my life centered around technology and information and seeking out information. Information, to me, was the key to insight and experience (which is why I felt the need to give the 101 History of Bath above). So sitting in the café and eating a bagel was probably the freest I had ever been. I had no timetable, no schedule, no technology, and frankly, no worries. You see, when I was walking around the small city of Bath, with its white sand-blasted stone buildings, Jane Austen museums, Abbeys, and cobblestone walkways, I felt as if I had been let off my leash, that I was free to wander the alleys and walkways like a stray dog. I felt emancipated from the constraints and goals I had put on myself; it was nice to experience something raw and real that wasn’t on a screen.
On my train ride home from Bath, after spending two days there, and venturing out to Stonehenge and a few smaller towns, I remember thinking how odd the weekend had been. Not odd in a weird, freak-you-out way, or even odd because of being in a new place; odd in the sense that I felt full. I felt like I had just lived. I wasn’t concerned about what needed to be done when I got home, or how much money I had, or whether I bought enough souvenirs, or what I was going to do with 5 hours to kill. It didn’t matter. The thing that mattered is that I did that - I did - and now, no one and no thing can ever take that from me; that for those collections of moments, I felt like birds do, like a river feels, like the wind.
It is famous for the natural spring of hot water that bubbles up every day, millions - literally millions - of liters of water surface every day, and the Romans thought the spring was a healing spring from the goddess Minerva, goddess of wisdom, so they built an elaborate temple to honor Her.
Anyways, I went there because I couldn’t afford to go to Italy, and it’s better than nothing, right? So I left on a Friday, alone, and was going for the weekend. But that is not the takeaway. Here goes:
I woke up early that day, and immediately set out for breakfast in the city center. There was a small little café you would expect to find in Europe, and I went in, and found that I was the only customer inside. I bought a bagel with cream cheese and a pot of Earl grey tea, and went to their upstairs where they had window seats looking out on one of the roundabouts in the city. It was only 7:30am, which is inhumanely early for me, but I think the time to sleep is when you’re home. Anyways, I sat upstairs, and enjoyed the best bagel of my life, and the best tea of my life, and thought to myself how nice it was to have three days without checking a computer for messages, or worrying about text messages, or checking e-mail or voice mail. I had a ‘moment of clarity’ a few days prior where I realized that despite my greatest efforts, my life centered around technology and information and seeking out information. Information, to me, was the key to insight and experience (which is why I felt the need to give the 101 History of Bath above). So sitting in the café and eating a bagel was probably the freest I had ever been. I had no timetable, no schedule, no technology, and frankly, no worries. You see, when I was walking around the small city of Bath, with its white sand-blasted stone buildings, Jane Austen museums, Abbeys, and cobblestone walkways, I felt as if I had been let off my leash, that I was free to wander the alleys and walkways like a stray dog. I felt emancipated from the constraints and goals I had put on myself; it was nice to experience something raw and real that wasn’t on a screen.
On my train ride home from Bath, after spending two days there, and venturing out to Stonehenge and a few smaller towns, I remember thinking how odd the weekend had been. Not odd in a weird, freak-you-out way, or even odd because of being in a new place; odd in the sense that I felt full. I felt like I had just lived. I wasn’t concerned about what needed to be done when I got home, or how much money I had, or whether I bought enough souvenirs, or what I was going to do with 5 hours to kill. It didn’t matter. The thing that mattered is that I did that - I did - and now, no one and no thing can ever take that from me; that for those collections of moments, I felt like birds do, like a river feels, like the wind.
What is a Takeaway?
The idea of a takeaway comes from the book, "Generation X: Tales for an Accelerated Culture." It's a story or moment in your life that you felt most alive. It is not something you bought, or just the greatest moment, either. Instead, it's the most real experience you've been through. It's the moment you knew you were on this earth.
Here's an excerpt from Coupland's book that details more:
"After you're dead and buried and floating around whatever place we go to, what's going to be your best memory of earth? What one moment for you defines what it's like to be alive on this planet. What's your takeaway?
Fake yuppie experiences that you had to spend money on, like white water rafting or elephant rides in Thailand don't count.
I want to hear some small moment from your life that proves you're really alive."
~Douglas Coupland, "Generation X"
So there you have it. We would love for you to post your takeaways anonymously on here. Hope you enjoy reading everyone else's, too.
Here's an excerpt from Coupland's book that details more:
"After you're dead and buried and floating around whatever place we go to, what's going to be your best memory of earth? What one moment for you defines what it's like to be alive on this planet. What's your takeaway?
Fake yuppie experiences that you had to spend money on, like white water rafting or elephant rides in Thailand don't count.
I want to hear some small moment from your life that proves you're really alive."
~Douglas Coupland, "Generation X"
So there you have it. We would love for you to post your takeaways anonymously on here. Hope you enjoy reading everyone else's, too.
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