On Thursday, I walked from class to work.
This was short walk, maybe one hundred yards from the classroom, down steps, across a sidewalk, up steps and along a flat path that was lined with trees blowing in the wind.
I have made this walk many times, twice a week for the last three months to be exact, and every time I travel this path, a certain serenity fills my senses.
Students rush by, completely self-absorbed with headphones in their ears and eyes toward the ground. I keep my head up and my eyes on the horizon, taking in my surroundings.
This walk is the connection between my life as a student and my life as a worker.
It is eerily reminiscent of life, in general.
College is the gap between adolescents and adulthood, play and work, learning and experience.
As I walk, my pace slows. Why rush when my destination will most assuredly be the same no matter when I arrive? My peers clamor for their results, sprinting towards a finish line that will not move. They do not notice the slight breeze brushing against their face or the dried leaves that are just beginning to fall and rustle at their feet. They do not allow themselves to indulge in the sun’s glowing warmth, even though blustery, bitter days are not far away. No, they keep their heads down and rush for the end.
I take a look back and notice the terrain I have covered, coasting downhill easily and then bottoming out so that I must work my way back to the top and to even ground. It is these transitions that create the people we have all become. If everything were simple and easy, this world would be dull. It is how a person reacts to challenges, the valleys of despair and the mountains of triumph, that cultivate their character.
For a simple, one hundred yard walk, it always becomes a journey of thoughts and emotions. Should we hurry to finish a race where the only contestant is the person in the mirror, or should we slow down and enjoy every moment? Should we rush to adulthood where dreams are replaced with monotony, or should we patiently examine every goal and possibility?
For me, the choice is a simple one. I will continue to walk at my slow and steady pace. I will marvel at the changes of the seasons, relish every starry night, and stand in awe of all the wonder in this world.
When the day comes that I will make my final transition and my race is over, I will look back and know that I did not miss my few magical moments. I will keep my head up and my eyes on the horizon.
B.B.
