Tuesday, March 31, 2009

   “Eudaemonia”
When last my eyes took in the dawn breaking over the far off fields, the place I beheld was taught from effort, strained and tense- students spent to the marrow. Funa and fauna fried by the springtime burden of birth, opulent and overtaxed by the seasonal expectation, a manic thing- this birth- death cycle and the turning of ages, yet barely sustainable. And so, weary of my duties, I slouched at last into the comforting arms of spring break- and my sleepy seaside town, wherein I thought waited a well- needed reprieve from the unremitting dirge. And so I allowed myself to succumb to a life I had left behind, with the intention of (if only temporarily) shrugging off the weight of my current responsibilities. And immersed (and in fact, relieved by) a different set of cares, the call to celebrate myself fell away from my consciousness.
Making my return to Merced, I beheld a very different sight, the gift of rested sight, I suppose. I saw a phoenix land- raised from its icy sleep to resurface in infant splendor. It was a thing worth celebrating, as was the feat that had transformed it. Just as death had overtaken its summertime beauty- the spring had rebuilt (through struggle and diligence) and become greater yet- causing its previous grandeur to pale by comparison. It is a metaphor I hold dear, and personally applicable in many ways- seeing great triumph, diligence and reward as inexorably linked, and incomprehensibly a part of myself and disposition. These things, are the things worth celebrating.
And now I stretch, palms pressed up into the sky I had once feared would fall down around my ears. And with inhalation comes the knowledge that meditation is celebratory. It is life-affirming, and a luxury I do not often have the privilege to indulge in. Today I give myself that chance. So rare is the opportunity for a quieted mind, don't I have something due? Isn't there a midterm racing at me from somewhere in the distance...? None of that matters though, and I exhale it away. I have chosen to celebrate now- as I had not the chance before; I have chosen to celebrate myself, in this moment- this step in the process as I am, was, and will be. But now, I celebrate the moment itself, in which I am sustained and content to know that life is a process. It is breaking, it is building again, it is constant improvement and unremitting devotion to betterment.
I took the call to celebrate myself with suspicion, thinking ‘I’ll celebrate myself when I’ve done something to celebrate’—when I come home this summer with a much-deserved 4.0, when I am admitted to law school, pass the bar, or ascend to a position in the Senate. I had not assumed myself worthy of celebration as I am now, but still the persistent nag of an unfinished assignment demanded that I celebrate. And so it is not merely myself I celebrate. My meditation is on what I have accomplished, and what I yet aim to do- a sincerity and an ambition mark this celebration, for I know that this day is only the first f many more in my path to becoming all that I can, a dream in which I find great joy, and fulfillment- a sentiment also worth celebrating.

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