The
Beginning: Creation
I believe in two beginnings- the beginning of
the earth and the beginning of me.
Have you ever seen a beautiful sunrise? I mean
a truly beautiful, brilliant sunrise? As if Eos and Aphrodite are awaking and
stretching across their canopied bed, tossing their duvets so it ripples across
the sky, creating colors and patterns that could never be repeated. A sunrise
that when you stared, if you watched intently enough you could see each ray
emerge, tip to tip, forming a band across the sky, that would eventually be the
illuminating vision of Earth opening her eyes for the first time that morning.
It’s a statistical fact (if that brings any
credibility) that fear of the darkness is America’s most common fear. If the
light brings so much beauty, then that “statistical fact” makes sense. It’s
easy to be scared of things we can’t see or know.
I’ve been told that a sunrise is simply night
evading the day, fading back down. If I were darkness, I’d be scared of the
beauty that light could bring as well.
If you want to know my story, you have to go
back to the beginning. The very beginning. I was born in New Jersey, right
outside of Princeton, in a town called New Brunswick. I was born in a snowstorm
and our car crashed on my way home from the hospital. Apparently car accidents
a couple hours into a new life isn’t very good for an infant. That day, April
12, was the sunrise and almost the sunset of my life.
In the beginning, there was Adam and Eve. And
Zeus. And Io. And the axis
mundi. And the sun and the moon and all of the stars. But there was also
nothing. And everything.
All at once.
That, anyway, is what I have learned.
The
Middle: Suffering
I’ve heard that any life worth living is only
valued by the suffering that it has endured. Suffering has to be the best
teacher of any on this earth (sorry Dr. Sexson), because it teaches you about
what your heart used to be. As Charles Dickens has said, “I have been bent and
broken but –I hope- into a better shape.” It’s necessary to have a world of
pain and suffering to school a brain into a soul.
Sometimes, we must undergo breakups, and
losing friends, and losing lives. Hardships, difficult times, and narcissistic
wounds. It’s hard, it seems like it lasts forever, and it can break a person.
When these times happen, it’s easy to lose happiness and pleasure, because it
feels like we are losing who we are. However, that loss of fleeting happiness
doesn’t necessary mean that we’re losing our pure, natural, infinite joy.
Sometimes joy is the voice at the end of the day saying, “The sun rose and the
sun set, and you made it through both.”
Suffering is intense. It’s endless. And it’s
self-inflicted. Everything we do has been done. Every thing we think has been
thought. Every word we’ve spoken has already been said. Every sin we’ve
committed has already been committed by Adam and Eve, by Zeus, by Persephone,
by Europa. Every little thing that we have ever done, thought, said, believed-
it has already been. I think the hardest part to believe
about this is that all traces of originality and independence are erased from
the very core of our being and all of our new experiences simply become others
experiences that we seem to remember. I want to be original. I want to be new.
I want to be an explorer, a wanderer, a discoverer, but I can’t. Because
everything has been explored, everywhere has been wandered, and every thing has
been discovered. But that doesn’t mean that I can’t recreate it. You see, everything
has been found, discovered, and done, but I can re-find it, re-discover it, and
re-do it and do it differently. I can make a difference simply by doing things
differently. It’s not about originality, but rather about creativity.
That, anyway, is what I have learned.
The
End: Resolution
I guess I don’t know much about the end,
because my full end hasn’t come yet. I’ve watched friendships end, I’ve watched
love end, I’ve experienced many ends in my life, but I’ve yet to experience the end. What is the end? Do you know when it comes?
Are you comfortable when Hades sneaks up and wraps his arms around you and
takes you down to the underworld? Or are you ripped from a perfect moment, a
perfect time, a perfect love- do you leave in an instant or do you fade? As you
slip from the world, where do your memories go? Are they still here? Are they
floating around, reminding everyone of you? I lost my grandpa on my fourth
birthday. Every year, I hear him through my dad’s tears. Every year, I feel him
through my dad’s hugs. He’s not here, but isn't he? It doesn’t seem like he
went willingly to the underworld called death, it seems like he’s still
fighting it every day. Fighting for life, even in death…
I know another end is coming soon; I’ve been
feeling it since September. Montana is ending for me. In December, I’ll return
home to Georgia. I’ll return home to the smell of maple every morning, and the
sound of the wind blowing through the willow trees that surround my childhood
home. I’ll return home and leave this chapter behind. I’ll leave the suffering
that has happened here. I’ll leave the experiences that have dictated the past
two years of my life. I’ll leave the people who have seen me at my worst and my
best. Montana, as an experience for me, will be ending. But Montana will live
on, and even though I'll be 2,000 miles away, I'll see the same thing as each
of you every night. The Gods are still there, living reincarnated in the stars,
watching over us, getting closer and farther away every day, and in the same
way, as constellations present themselves across the world, Montana will be as
close to me as it will be to some of you.
I think that THE end
is simply the place you go when you’re looking for a new beginning. Some people
choose to go to the end, and some
people are simply put there, but either way, I think we all end up at the end
when it’s time for our new beginning.
Or at least that’s what I’ve learned.
The
Full Circle: What I Have Learned
I’ve learned that the best way to learn about
mythologies is to sit in Wilson 1-122 and listen to every single initiation
rite, and displaced myth, and every comment that each of you say. I’ve learned
that the best way to understand these “mythologies” is to understand that each
life in this room is a mythology. That everything, and nothing, is true in the
world. That all at once, everything, and nothing, is the origin of every being.
We came from somewhere, called Nowhere, and will go nowhere, called Somewhere.
I’ve learned that “we are here to laugh at the odds and live our lives so well
that death itself trembles to take us” (Thanks Bukowski). I knew from the
moment I stepped into this class on August 27th that something was different,
something was better, and something was new in this classroom. Whether it was
the professor, or all of you sitting in front of me, or simply the air of
mystery that brought all of us together into Lit 285, something was different.
And now, looking back on the last three months, I can say that what was
different then is different now. I know the birth date and birthplace of a
fellow student. I know about one of your uncle’s choices of career, if you call
it that. I know about how some of you love Kobe Bryant and I know how there are
some people in here that have witnessed and experience initiation at its most
brutal. I know how writing has changed some of your lives and I know how a
simple airplane trip can change someone’s life for the better. I know that some
of you enter this room every day a new person, and I know that no one will walk
out completely unchanged by what has happened in Wilson 1-122.
I’ve learned a lot this semester, but perhaps
the most luminous thing I’ve learned is that I already knew all of this.
I already knew all of you.
I just hadn't realized it.