I have been thinking a lot lately about happiness and what my "ideally happy" life would look like. I'm nearing graduation, which has meant making a lot of choices about where I want to head. Unintentionally, it has made me face a lot of realities about what I believe about life, and what I want out of it.
If I'm being honest, I really regret ever going to college. It is the first thing in my life that I can say I truly would probably not repeat if I were to make the choice again. Even hard times, tough times that I've gone through, most of them, I would probably choose again because I feel like they shaped me in some important way. But college, if I am being honest with myself, I went for the wrong reasons, and a big part of me feels deeply ashamed of my choice, because I know the depths of how cowardly my choice was.
I know a lot of people think I was nuts for not going in the first place, and many even view non-college grads as people who have made bad life decisions. I've met my fair share of people who judged me for not going or gave me a big "good for you" when they found out I "went back" - the same type of "good for you" that I would imagine someone would say to an alcoholic who was celebrating their first year sober. The implied
You must have messed your past up. I'm glad you're getting your act together now. is hard to deny. It used to make me angry when people would judge me like that, but I've learned it's merely a difference of opinion, one that we probably won't be seeing eye to eye on anytime soon.
My hope now is that someday in the future, my degree will actually allow me to do something that I couldn't do without it. If I get into grad school, then maybe I won't regret it anymore. But we only know what we know now, and right now, I'm disappointed in myself for ever having gone. Not that I didn't learn some things, because I certainly did. But, I feel the majority of it was time spent wasted pursuing something that I never even wanted in the first place (and I'm not just talking about the degree).
But, for whatever reasons, I am where I am, and now I am figuring out where to go. Part of me worries that I have limited my opportunity by going. I feel so very tied down in life. More than I ever have before. It used to be, for both Jesse and I, this mentality of the world being at our fingertips. We were free to dive in and try anything that we dreamed. And we did. We tried many things. We failed at many things. We succeeded at many things. But now I just feel kind of stuck. I feel like I have all these strings and attachments that I never wanted - student loan debt, a house in a market that is upside down... and I feel so limited. It used to be that anything I could dream, I could do. And now, there is all this sticky red tape. I can still do anything, but it's a whole lot harder now because first I have to deal with all my strings that I got myself all tangled up in.
And I worry for Jesse. He is getting his degree now too. Is he doing it for better reasons than I did it for? Is it freeing him or is it tangling him up in strings?
I just want to live simply. I don't want all this stuff. I don't even need all this stuff. Yesterday, we cleaned out our closet and produced four trash bags full of clothes. And the closet is still full.
This excess has been on my mind a lot lately. Friday evening, Jesse and I went to visit an old friend of mine, who has recently moved to live in a community downtown that I really identify with. They don't have much, but they use everything they have to its maximum potential. Collecting rain water from the roof to use for the gardens, which help feed them, processing a dead, donated deer all by themselves, slowly fixing up the building as they can, opening their doors to the homeless to come in and shower and get a fresh change of clothes, cooking meals to share, and just living to love. And what I perhaps most love about it, is that it's not charity. In order for someone to get something, they must give something. For instance, if a homeless person who comes in to shower wants a clean shirt, he must give his own shirt - same for shoes or whatever else. The community then launders it, and puts it back in the closet. Charities are good, and certainly needed, but a principle flaw of them that I have really struggled with is the mentality that can come along with them. It's so easy to get this mentality of pride and do-goodness where you get all puffed up because you did a good deed to help someone else. And indeed, I think we as humans are wired for that. Scientifically, it's been proven in study after study, doing good gives a chemical boost in the brain. But, I think we have to be careful that this doesn't become our principle reason for doing good, because then, it's really all about us and we've created some sort of "us and them" mentality in which we are the do-gooder and they are the receiver. And tangling someone up in "receiver" mode does nothing to help them in the long run. Not to mention it can be terribly degrading and rob them of their own dignity.
I didn't used to understand this. It hit me one day when we were working with Mercy Ships. One week, a free health clinic was set up by a few nearby doctor's offices. Mercy Ships staff were encouraged to go, both to volunteer and to receive the services. Jesse was having some health issues, so we signed up to go to receive. I didn't think much of it, until we got there. It was one of the most humiliating days of my life. Checking in, there were long tables set up, with the volunteers standing behind them, and people coming to receive the services on the other side of the tables. When we got to the table, I'll never forget the way the volunteers looked. They were happy. They were proud. But, it was apparent, that I was not one of them. They did not view me as equal. I was just this lower person, a pawn in their "do my good deed and get high" scheme. I'm sure it wasn't intentional, and most likely, every volunteer there was doing it with the best of (conscious) motives. Yet, it was very difficult to distinguish - who was benefiting more from this charity event - the volunteers or the people it was meant to serve? Having the tables, (literally!) turned on me, made me realize how deeply charity can strip a human of their dignity. It was such an ironic morning. Here, Jesse and I were devoting our entire lives to charity...we spent day in and day out "behind" the table, and this was my first taste of ever being in front of it. That day forever changed the way I view charity work, and I can recall the emotions with a very raw clarity.
It's not enough to just give. It's a matter of the heart, of "dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow", of taking a really, really hard honest look at why we do what we do - and being willing to change when the answer we find within isn't as pretty as we hoped.
So what is my point? Good question. I really have no idea. I'm just thinking...thinking about what community means, about what my life means, about balance and if there is such a thing, about what people deserve compared to what they get, and about whether or not I just ingested a moth when I ate that last bite of Fig Newton.
Does anyone ever reach a place where they can say they are truly satisfied in life? Do I try new things because I'm avoiding something, or because I'm seeking something? And where do you find truth when even your very own belief system is riddled with lies?
It's just that none of the answers in life that really matter are simple. That is, unless the rest of humanity knows something I don't. Bueller?...Bueller?...Anyone?
On the drive up, Jesse told me his Christmas present to my mom would be that he wouldn't flip her off in any photos. Apparently, I was exempt from this gift.
Jesse may act tough with his middle finger and all, but he is really a softie...as evidenced by this little snuggle with Jackson, my brother's dog. I think Jackson was giving him some kisses.
Jackson weighs 8 lbs. Abe weighs 98 lbs.
My mom ordered an ice cream cake. Mmmmm...
More evidence of the softer side... that's Jackson laying between Jesse's legs. They had a nice little nap together.
There is a long running joke in our family about "smelling the leaves". Here, my mom had just unwrapped a candle from my brother, which was aptly named "leaves". And as you can see, Abe and Riley were very content to watch it all unfold.
These are from the following day when we went down to my aunt and uncle's house to see my Dad's side of the family.
Horton and Abe didn't get to join in on this celebration, but my aunt and uncle do have two dogs who weren't shy about asking for some affection. This is Merris.
This is three generations of the guys on my Dad's side (plus one toddler thrown in for good measure).
And now...here comes 2009!
