The Davidson Jungle - Spring Field Guide

     Here in NC spring has sprung, and it won’t be long before until we have many new and exotic creatures roaming campus.  Next year I will be working for Davidson’s residence life office as a Freshman Hall Counselor, and I couldn’t be more excited to help advise the next generationg of Davidson students.  Tonight I had to help the residence life office with the housing lottery process, and  I watched as the eager students turned into hungry hyenas fighting for the ultimate prize: the best dorm dwelling in the great rainforest canopy. This may seem trivial to mere savannah dwellers, but here within the jungle, housing lottery is no laughing matter.  Dear incoming Freshman, you enter wild, wild territory you know not yet how to navigate, but never fear – I will do my best to help you face whatever you might encounter along your journey.  Let me begin by tell you a little about all the startling creatures that roam this brick and mortar wilderness in the spring.   

Creature #1 - The Prospie:  During your first spring at Davidson, you will most likely encounter a certain breed of innocent young creatures roaming about, still sheltered from the jungle elements.  They can usually be spotted traveling in packs, carrying white peachy folders, lead by a fearless scout who is most excellent at navigating the jungle and very adept in walking backwards.  These small, harmless creatures have spent much of their time trekking through various forests in order to find to most suitable region in which to settle and learn the jungle ways. Additional ways to identify prospies: enchanted and/or disoriented facial expressions, a desire to impress all current jungle dwellers, and general declarations of wonder.

Creature #2 – The Professor:  These formidable but quirky creatures rule the brick jungle.   They most often dwell within their caves of academia, but are known to emerge for brief periods between 8:30 and 4:30pm to enlighten young jungle creatures with their revelations from the caves.  These kings of the jungle come in many forms: some are quite aware of their jungle prowess and have well-formed God-complexes to show for it:  others will chat with you for hours and invite you to their caves for tea.  They are distinguished, wise, and generally well-meaning critters, though I wonder sometimes if they still know what life is like down on the forest floor.  In the words of my roommate, “I feel like professors were real people once...”

Creature #3 – The Frat Boy:  This peculiar animal forms unusually tight bonds within its pack.  During the spring, the older members have complete command of those just accepted to the pack, frequently referred to “pledges,” and upperclassmen send said pledges on missions entirely for their own benefit.  Pledges must endure laundry, errands, and other unknown-and-most-likely-questionable activities, all for the sake of devoting themselves to their pack.  Pledges can often be spotted wearing coats, ties and pack identification pins while intoxicated at inopportune times of the day.  The species of frat boy native to the East coast is fond of an unusual color pallete: in the spring they emerge wearing pastel slacks of countless colors: pink, baby blue, lime green, white, sunny yellow, complete with a pastel button down shirt and a whale-covered bow tie.   Easter Bunny impersonators, you say?  Not quite, but many have mistaken them for such. 

         Creature #5 – The inchworm: This tiny green creature is a friend to some but a foe to many.   These sly little bugs hide in the trees, and upon spotting an innocent student to ambush, discretely lower themselves from the branches and land in hair, on shoulders, in backpacks, etc.  It’s not uncommon to be sitting in class and see a little green monster menacingly creeping across your classmate’s scalp.  Beware - they will find you when you least expect it…

        Creature #6 – The “frolicker”:  This creature is probably by far the most startling of Davidson’s spring fauna.   During a certain weekend at the end of each spring semester, a strange plague overcomes a large portion of the student body, turning them into animals the likes of which we have never seen before.  After much speculation, it is suspected that this plague is induced by particular psychoactive beverage popular among college students of this age, but further investigation must be done to truly reveal the nature of the frolicker.   Frolickers are often spotted wearing tank tops and sunglasses, stumbling over their own feet, happily screaming and yelling in sight of their friends, and rejoicing in the free food, live music, bounce houses, water slides, and general festivities across campus. Students that manage to avoid the frolics plague relax on the lawn and observe the antics of their friends in detail so they can remind them of all the funny things they did the next day.

        Creature #7 – The finals bookworm: Once the jungle creatures have recovered from the frolics plague, they begin the great migration to the cave of caves: the Library.  The finals bookworm spends two weeks on average locked away in various corridors surrounded by textbooks, notes, highlighters ,and flashcards as they prepare for their final battle before returning to the promise land.  In this battle they must face the most terrifying of beasts: self scheduled exams, take-home tests, term papers, and even oral exams.  This is a battle no student can avoid, and after fighting valiantly, the lush green pastures of summer await on the other side.

            Dear freshman, never fear - as you begin your Davidson adventure, you’ll be learning the ropes of the jungle before you know it.  Perhaps you’ll provide me with more field data to add to my guide, or maybe I’ll discover an entirely new species among you.   Either way, the glories of our brick and mortar jungle are bound to help you grow into a creature well prepared to handle many challenges of thevast, wild plains of life.

Misplaced Identity

Today has been the day of to-do lists.  We had a couple of days off from school over Easter break, and now students are shuffling back into campus to hit the books, meetings, work, rehearsals, etc.  As I have been jotting down assignments, schedules, and errands, I must constantly remind the voice inside my head to separate my self-satisfaction from the list of things I must accomplish.   I once had a conversation with a friend here about how this is often a common plague of the Davidson student: as we craft ambitious goals for the future, it’s easy to fall into the trap of attaching your self-worth to your work.   We can get caught up in the art of dream-chasing until it becomes more of a game, more of a box to check, than an actual vocation.   Identity ends up depending on the feedback we receive from the outside world, on where we see ourselves standing on our well-designed game-board, on whether or not we’ve passed go.  But what happens to our inner voices when a piece falls through and the boxes aren’t checked?  What are we missing?   

Over the years, I have found that most missing things have a way of coming back to you in some round-about way.  Thank goodness Davidson is small, and thank goodness we have an honor code, because during the whirlwind that was freshman year I had the unfortunate tendency of leaving my belongings strewn in random locations across campus.  It happens much less now-a-days, but my friends still enjoy teasing me about it on occasion.   Whatever I lost was always found or returned, but the night before I left for Christmas break freshman year, that was not the case.   

I had just finished a mind-numbing Calculus final and was thrilling to be headed home after 4 long months away.   As I crossed off my packing list and checked my purse, I discovered my wallet was nowhere to be found.  Yea.  My wallet.  NOT the thing to loose before getting on a plane for a trans-continental flight.  (Cue freak-out: call parents.  Talk to parents: cue parents’ freak-out.)  I spent a couple hours tearing apart my room along with 5 other friends (yes, I have angels of friends) with no success.  I finally went to the town police and get a letter from an officer verifying my identity so I could make it through security and get on the plane.  I ended up making it home safely and got a new license, debit card, and wallet, thinking it was gone for good.  Then, on the night I returned to Davidson, I open up my ottoman and find – drumroll please - my wallet.  Yep.  Inside a plastic bag, buried within my massive stash of finals survival candy.

Moral of the story, kids:  ALWAYS eat all of your candy.

Without my license and student ID I was the same "self" I had always been, but for what I had to show most institutions for the world, not to mention the airport, I could not be identified as anyone of consequence.  And the truth is, though it may not be in the form of an ID card, I think many people come down with a case of misplaced identity.   We look around us and see people clamoring for status and possessions in the dog-eat-dog world that is our capitalist society.  We begin to believe that all that matters to our lives is what the rest of the world perceives us to be...our scores, our reputation, our success…and we attach our identity to these external, superficial evaluations of ourselves.  The internal frustrations that come with this mindset can end up eating us up, making us feel like we’re not enough, until one day we finally we realize that our worth was never lost.  Only misplaced.

Because you are not a number or a 2x3” plastic card, and this isn’t a game.   You are not your job.  You are not your GPA.  You are not your resume.  You are the smile you share with the world around you. You are the way you feel when you are with the people you care about. You are the way your heart sings when you do the things you love.  You are the vision you hold for a better world for others and yourself.  You are all the crazy, scary, and brilliant little things that keep you up at night; the little things you notice that other people pass by.  You are the purpose that you are meant to fulfill, the gifts you’ve been given, and the meaning you continually create for yourself.  You are a spark that cannot be lost.

And most importantly, you are enough. 

Discovered Magic

As my sophomore year approaches its end, I have been attempting to formulate plans for the summer and the next school year, all while designing my solution to the “wow-you’re-gonna-be-a-Junior-what-are-you-going-to-do-with-the-rest-of-your-life” dilemma.  I’ve declared my major in psychology, and I have been working on my proposal to complete a neuroscience concentration. Since this has been my interest for quite some time now, it’s exciting to watch my plans arise, change, re-assemble, and come together.    I’ve considered neuropsychology, medicine, clinical/occupational therapy etc., but I’ve resolved to cross that bridge when I come to it (a rather rapidly approaching bridge – eeeeek).  For now I’ll do some exploring in these fields until I find an acre with my name on it.  Until then, I’ll try my best to enjoy the journey of learning I began almost 2 years ago.  

 I arrived at Davidson as an eager but naïve 17 year old intending to set off on a grand exploration of this rapidly expanding feild.  During my first semester, I scheduled a meeting with the director of the Neuroscience program so I could probe his mind about required courses, opportunities at Davidson, and his work in the field.  As I sat on the other side of his desk, he looked at me with a skeptical smile and a curious sparkle in his eye, and asked a jolting question:

“So…WHY neuroscience?”

At first I wasn’t sure exactly how to respond, and felt as if I was suddenly being interviewed.  Perhaps my entire career depended on this question.  I thought: “Uhhh…well…why not?  How could you not be fascinated with this??”  I had told many people before that I wanted to do something related neuroscience, but most of them had only ever given me a flabbergasted/impressed look and/or proceeded to tell everyone that I wanted to be a brain surgeon (No guys. There are plenty of other things you can do with neuroscience.  Google it -  it’s not brain surgery).   I sat and explained that I had always been interested the physical sciences but also in the deeper complexities of human beings, that this was where science and psychology intersect, I could use my knowledge to work with people,  that I usually go straight to the neuroscience section of bookstores, etc.  But I still I only instinctually knew of the wonder behind my drive to learn more about the mystery inside our heads, and I didn’t feel like I could articulate it well enough to do it justice.  

Later, I thought back to a time several years ago when I sat at my piano, rehearsing new pieces and replaying old ones, thinking about this incredible process that I participated in daily.  How is it that by practicing each afternoon I could cement these melodies within me and call on them at a moments notice?  Every piece of music I have played, every song I can recreate when I sit before the keys, exists inside my body as a neural network – connections made in my brain, an alteration of my very biology.  Every song I can still play is somehow a part of me, physiologically, as I walk around each day.  We carry within us the physical, concrete impact of all the people who have ever touched our lives.  We take in, process and absorb our surroundings, and while they can change us, we also have within us the power to change them.  Cells do this, neurons, these microscopic units of magic, taking the inanimate matter of our universe and functioning to give it not only life, but soul.  In this very fabric of our nature, through the pathways of our brain, arise love, joy, curiosity, passion, and wonder.  Through this, we embody the qualities and character we were created to express.

A dear friend recently sent me a TED talk video in which a poet said, “magic is simply undiscovered science, and science discovered magic.”  And though I’ve struggled with concepts, been frustrated with confusion, wanted to throw my textbooks around the room when I’m studying late into the night, I can still see the magic that is our human nature.  As Emily Dickinson said, “the brain is wider than the sky,” and I pray that somehow, with this fascination, God will help me find a purpose that is wider than anything I could plan for myself. 

A part of me

lies around, before, behind, within

waves of light come through my eyes

waves of sound into my ears

traveling, moving, altering

electric waves of wonder

that ignite and hold ideas, desires, and loves.

The light from your eyes

the sounds from your lips

are winds that moves these waves

and send the ship on a different course

leaving maps I will store and re-examine

sending me back out to sea

feeling this wind, intrinsically

a part of me.  

250 Words a Day - Easter Sunday

Today, my heart is full.  Full to the brim.

Full of joy that this day brings renewed hope in the promises of God, life, love and community.

Full of admiration for those who have ever sacrificed anything, for those who have given of themselves so that others might have life.

Full of gratitude for the resurrection that we live each day, rising up from our past troubles into new moments, new chances, and new paths to discover.

Thankful for my triumphs, not in me, of me, but through me, from divine love.  

Thankful for the struggles that have lead me to this very place and time. 

Thankful for the people who have been brought into my life, to help me, hurt me, guide me, and inspire me.

Thankful that each day holds an infinite capacity to learn and grow.

Thankful that God speaks volumes with no words at all.

Thankful that we are called to listen. 

So, for the sake of listening, my new goal is to write and post everyday for the next month starting tomorrow, about bits and pieces I hear, see, and learn.   About a year and a half ago, I sat on a velveteen couch talking to an English professor who told me he didn’t believe in writer’s block.   “Inspiration? What are you expecting?? To sit down and get hit by lightening???“  He explained to me that when he is working on a novel, he makes himself write 250 words everyday, no matter how he expects it to turn out.  If he ends up writing 250 mediocre words and only saving 10 of them, that's ok - works of art are born by chipping away.  By writing 250 words a day.  So I vow to throw at least 250 words into the blogosphere for all 30 days of April, in the hope that by doing so I might listen more carefully for the small things speaking each day, and the expressions of my heart and others.  Please join me in sharing thoughts, stories, and inspirations, so that together we might learn.  That together we might be full.

Full to the brim.

Sing Anyway

Big news, world: one of my very favorite people on earth…to me known as “mom”… is coming to visit me at college over spring break!  Last time I saw her we were making the trek to the Pasco airport so I could jump on a plane and hop across the country for spring semester.  I’ve always enjoyed car rides with my mom, which is fortunate, because when you live miles and miles from much of modern civilization, long road trips are necessary and frequent.  When it’s just the two of us for hours, there is nothing we can’t say, laugh about, or sing - especially sing.  We have spent many a road trip belting various pop songs with my iPod as the DJ.  Since each song on said device has been played on repeat at some point in my life, I have almost every word down; my mom, on the other hand, barely knows any of the lyrics.  She sings anyway.

“W--EEEE are neee…uuh..er…..rrrr…..evv-errr…gee…mmm...ack togetherrrr…wwweeEEEE-”

It’s wonderful.

When I was younger and going through the omg-parents-are-so-embarassing phase, I would give skeptically stare at her until she would stop singing, poke me and laugh. Now I just smile.

Because it's not embarrassing. It's a fearlessness we all should have. If you're on a journey with the people who matter, it makes no difference if you know the words, the notes, the route, or the plan.  When you have something to sing for, chances are the person in the passenger’s seat is going to think your heartfelt, shambly-but-soulful best shot is beautiful.  And let’s face it – life is a continual improv show.  It’s more than likely that at some point you’re gonna get thrown a curve ball, stuck on a stage, handed lyrics and choreography you’ve never seen before, and you’re just gonna have to pick a starting pitch and run with it.

So thanks Mom, for helping me learn – whenever I’m unsure  - to still smile, speak up and share my voice. 

Ladies and Gentlemen, sing anyway.