Tuesday, July 20, 2010

This I Believe

This I Believe was a part of the Edward Murrow radio show in the 50s. They invited people to share what they believed in 500 word essays. Check out the current site here.

There are two books in print, collections of essays. Tufts just selected one as the Common Reading for the incoming first years. And they are inviting people to write their own 500-word essays about what they believe.

Mine is below. Regular readers of this blog won't be surprised by this. But it was a nice exercise to boil it down to 500 succinct words.

THIS I BELIEVE

I believe that I only get one life and that I should do as many things as I possibly can during it. I am collecting experiences, not money. I am having adventures, not stability. I believe there are amazing things to be done and seen, and I’ve made it my life’s work to do them and see them.

I was raised in a stable, happy family with a mom, a dad, two siblings and the dog. I came home from the hospital to the same house where I still go to visit my parents. I was lucky enough to be born into privilege. I had enough of everything I needed and an abundance of love and opportunities. I got to go to camp and then to college and then to graduate school. I was well on my way to creating a stable, settled-down life for myself. I was the opposite of the slacker-type Gen Xer. I was ambitious and goal-oriented.

But I stopped short one day when I was about 23. I figured out I wanted more than a regular life. I wanted a big life. I wanted to see and do and try. Life is only once. Once. That’s it. And so I moved to new places. I went kayaking and camping. I took classes exploring new topics. I took jobs that scared me. I made friendships with new types of people. I studied a new language. Anything put in front of me I tried; anything not in front of me I sought out.

I quit my hard-earned job at 27 to travel around the world for a year. That year turned into 2+ years and I wound up teaching scuba diving on an island in Thailand. Friends and family started to look at me funny. Where was my 401K? Where were my kids, my husband? People continue to look at me funny today. Where is your condo? You have another new job? You’re going where for vacation? You’re thinking about doing what next year?

I’m 37 now. It's been an unconventional decade or so since I threw in the “normal” towel and began looking for something different. I’ve found lots of cool stuff in the corners of the world and in the corners of my own life that I otherwise may have missed. I stop to read the exit signs on the side of the road of my life. Sometimes, I swerve quickly to take an exit, lest I miss it. Other times, I see the pre-sign for the exit and have more time to make a decision first. Sometimes, I pass by an exit, deciding that one isn’t for me.

I believe it is my responsibility to listen to the Universe when it speaks – when it suggests something to me. I believe these unconventional experiences make me a better person, a better community member, a better aunt, sister, daughter. And I know they make me a better me.