Lost Rights

Careers

I’ve come to a point in my life where I must decide what to major in/what career I want to pursue. I’ve reached the end of the “you have 2 years of college to figure it out, so don’t worry about it” road. As I sit here and think about this I can’t help but wonder at the gravity of this decision and how what I decide will come to be an ever existent part of my every day life. Different people look upon this decision in various hues. Some say, “I’m majoring in whatever gets me the most money, because then I can live comfortably”. Others, “I’m going to do something I love even if it doesn’t bring me lots of money, I will always follow my heart”. Then there’s the gray matter in between which is where I find myself. I see him now, the little boy with dark, thick, unruly hair tossing rocks into the tide on a windy day beneath the gray skies. Full of bursting sun, ever knowing of what he wants out of this life, aware of his passions, his desires, and dreams. Above all, content with who he is and conscious and glad of who he will grow to become as a person and professional. Somehow, I’ve lost grasp of his hand as time has passed. Situations, doubts, bitterness, and fear have ripped us apart. This decision I face today at times seems incomprehensible, an algorithm of confusing proportions, yet such an easy one to him, the little boy tossing rocks into the incoming tide, so sure of himself and thrilled with life. The “splish”, “splish”, “splash” of skipping rocks ceases, I raise my head only to see my past self standing stock still. As if with intense effort, he turns, and for one fleeting moment I see a little boy reflected in his smiling brown eyes. That small boy was never lost, only pushed out by worries and shame, but I’ve always been him and always will be. My career decision will be made by me and not by someone who conforms to the world and is molded by people but by GOD.

Crossing the Street

As I walked out of my history 147 class last week with my head reeling with the causes of the “Bank War” in the early 1800’s and wondering what exactly I had learned that day an interesting thought popped itself into my head among this frenzied cognitive whirlwind. After walking through the college labyrinth of a parking lot full of smoke spitting monsters, I found myself at the crosswalk waiting for the little white traveler you see here to pop up. I stared intently at the light in anticipation and immediately captured the moment our little friend appeared with my eyes. My mind said to my legs “move”, but for a fraction of a second my legs stayed rooted to the spot, as if they refused to obey the command and instead pushed backwards (like the setback of a car when you come to a full stop)!

 I thought back on past times I had crossed the street and said, “Whoa”… I realized this always happened, no matter if you think to yourself, “Right when it says “go” I’m gonna move my legs!” Nope, never works. Maybe this mind and body paradox is reflective of our stubborn nature as human beings, which is to resist being told what to do and to be our own master. I’m sure our little lighted friend doesn’t mean to be bossy, but try telling that to your legs (I’ve tried, they still don’t listen). Try it out next time your at a crosswalk. See if your legs will move right when you see this faceless traveler light up and see if you don’t experience a setback or split-second lag in your legs. Tell me what happens!