Back to the Basics

Last week after much debate and pride swallowing, I visited my high school. It had been five years since I walked those halls yet somehow they still looked the same, they still smelled the same. Entering into the main building I immediately noticed the paper football jerseys and obnoxious posters screaming slogans of school spirit covering every inch of the walls. Continuing down the hall, I spotted a banner displaying our school’s fight song above a group of lockers and laughed at the fact that I still knew every word. Memories of sporting events and intense rivalries came flooding back to me and I couldn’t help but feel like that part of my life was just yesterday, while at the same time feeling like it was centuries ago. Nerves consumed me as I pulled opened the door to my old favorite teacher’s classroom and saw thirty seventeen-year-old honors English students staring back at me. I immediately looked to the corner, my corner, where I spent two semesters during senior year desperately trying to hide my endless texting conversations and notes being passed from Mr. Powell’s wandering eye. He always seemed to catch me though, which was most likely why I was quite the regular when it came to being sent to the hall. Apparently talking to my neighbor during lectures was not acceptable then and looking back now, I guess I can admit that I was probably pretty rude. Lucky for Powell, the girl currently occupying my old seat looked fairly respectful and way too timid to break any rules or challenge the authority, as I would have in my day.

After introductions and explanations about who I was, why I was there and a few low blows from Powell about how old I have gotten, I assumed the position in the back of the classroom, ready to hear the lecture of the day. Of course I drowned out the first five minutes, scanning the room and looking intently at each of the students. It seemed like just yesterday I was in their place, so young and impressionable yet so sure of myself and my place in the world. I watched them watch him, I watched them listen to him and I wondered if I ever listened to him as intently as they did. Probably not. As I tuned back in to Mr. Powell’s lecture I realized I must’ve been paying attention to something five years ago as I recognized his lesson and remembered the days, though long ago, that I too read Plato’s “Allegory of the Cave”.

“This is the perfect lecture for you to sit in on,” Powell said as he turned and looked at me with a twinkle in his eye. It was right about then that I should’ve known he had something up his sleeve. “After I’m done, how about you give a little speech on your own life and how the Allegory of the Cave can be applied to it.” He said while turning back to his own speech and the illegible diagram he had drawn on the white board. As I sat there shocked over the fact that I was now unwillingly about to be a part of the lesson plan, my mind started racing to find the right words to say.

Mr. Powell continued on with the lecture and began to talk about reality and the way we each perceive it. He let the class make the connection between the ways they perceived life from freshman to senior year and the way the characters in the book thought that their realities were shadows on a cave wall made by a fire behind them. And at roughly the same time that the students began to make the correlation between the book and their lives, I had a revelation of my own.

Taking this next step in life, leaving my family, friends and the comfortable life I have come to know so well is my way of creating my own reality. In an overly cheesy yet very obvious literary comparison, I am leaving the “cave” and my own comfort zone, only to meet new people, have new adventures and develop different perceptions on life, as I know it. And while I won’t completely change as I did both physically and mentally from freshman to senior year of high school, I can only hope that parts of me will grow now too. I hope that this move will push me to continue on the never-ending journey to reach my full potential as a person.

“Take it away,” He said as he finished his thoughts and effortlessly transitioned into what was supposed to be my big grand finale. It was then that the scattered thoughts that had been bouncing off the walls in my head left my mouth and streamed quickly out into sentences. I started talking about life, the places you go, the people you meet and how quickly things change. How quickly your realities and the things you believe to be the truest can change. I told them that you have the ability to design the life you want to lead and that all of their journeys will be very different, but have the potential to be just as rewarding as the next. I told them that traveling has shown me that the earth is big, but our world is small and that every person I have met and conversation had has influenced me in one-way or another. I told the bright-eyed students to focus on the current reality of senior year and I told them not to worry because they have time. So much time.

As the bell rang signaling the end of another school day, the students scrambled to gather their things. They were gone in a flash and the room was quiet, leaving me to wonder if any of them had heard a word I said, if they would take any of it into consideration when thinking about their futures, and most importantly, if I had just spoken in all clichés (my biggest pet peeve and surely one of theirs).

“That was perfect.” Powell said with honesty in his eyes as the last student dashed from the classroom and he closed the door. As I stood there trying not to look too defeated he followed up with, “You were perfect.” I rolled my eyes at his attempt to compliment me, while smiling at the same time because his effort was much appreciated. “I’ll walk you out.,” he said while grabbing his briefcase and we turned towards the door.

A few minutes later, I was making the trek through the endless and nearly empty parking lot when I turned and took one last look at the old school. The memories of homecoming dances and tennis matches, standardized tests and really terrible first kisses all came rushing back to me. I thought of the person I was then compared to the person I am now and how much farther I must go to get to where I want to be. And I realized that no matter how far life takes me from where I have been, it is always nice to know you can go back to the basics, back to 12^th grade English class to figure yourself out or at least apply your life to a classic allegory, both of which I have found to be equally as rewarding.

Under Construction

Life moves fast. Way too fast and sometimes just when we think we've got everything all under control we hit a speed bump, swerve into another lane, or we quit paying attention and accidentally run a red light. The surprise of losing control for even just a split second is enough to make us think about things and more often than not, for me, it is an indication that I need to slow down.
Currently, I am in the process of slowing down. Here at home, I am planning, designing, creating, resting, healing, and under going some much needed construction and revamping. I am in neutral right now, caught between the fast paced life I led in Seattle and the new life I will embark on in a few short weeks. And though this neutral can at times be boring, slow, and frustrating, I am learning to appreciate the down time and everything that comes with it.
So, after two more necessary weeks of recharging my batteries and regaining my strength, i'll be off on a new adventure, starting another chapter, and desperately trying to catch up to life.


PS- with this new chapter comes a new blog. Look for it soon!