Imagine there's no countries,
it isn't hard to do.
Nothing to kill or die for,
no religion, too.
Imagine all the people
living life in peace...
Imagine no possessions,
I wonder if you can.
No need for greed or hunger,
a brotherhood of man.
Imagine all the people,
sharing all the world...
As far as years go, 2008 was a momentous one -- at least, because of the US presidential election and at most, because I'm finding words insufficient to express, even slightly, the enormity of 2008 in my life.
This blog has pretty well reflected the big events of 2008 for me:
from the election buzz and fireworks on a normally unexcited college campus;
from those six hours of law and ethics classes I took in the snowy winter to the somewhat more spread-out, yet just as trying spring quarter;
from the adventure of visiting New Orleans, spending hours with a former president, and even more people who are continually changing the world;
to the summer in another round of a news internship, in the thick of a demanding news cycle;
to the balancing act that was fall quarter, walking the tight rope of senior year while holding on to Senate, to Sustainability, to political journalism, and to my sanity...
to the warm, sunny weather of San Salvador, El Salvador, where everything was and wasn't perfect all at the same time...
...To home, where everything is simultaneously boring and exciting while being unmotivating and comforting.
What I hope to remember most about 2008 aren't just the amazing adventures, people, the projects and the life-changing moments; I hope to carry the lesson that the world is great place, and could still be better, as Louis Armstrong put it, "if we'd only give it a chance." The common thread sown into my tapestry of 2008 involved peace, love, and/or fun -- or should have.
A lot of muck flies during a presidential election year, much of it not worth the time and energy it expends. I was glad to be a third-party observer to the vilifying two-party war. Each side seemed guilty of some degree of fear-mongering, of ad hominem attacks and misinformation. Watching this from the sidelines, trying to wade through the muck to show others some semblance of the truth, was exhausting, frustrating -- and yet, mostly rewarding. Knowing the truth, being able to see beyond what some may consider hate, made my world a better place.
In my opinion -- the candidate that did the least of this (but is not wholly innocent) is the candidate that won. Witnessing that win was remarkable. Having to work during that victory was challenging, but probably grounded me enough to realize the seriousness of this election, of this era, of what needs to come next. In the days following the election, I looked back on the campaign and was happy that that campaign that sold itself on change, on hope was the one that triumphed; that simple words of positivity stuck out among all the negative. That means something, doesn't it?
The cynical or the pessimistic would say that it just means the American people, the world, are blinded by flowery terms and idealism -- but isn't that better than being hunkered in fear, in wont to the darkness of hopelessness? Isn't there something to be said for not only hoping for change, but using that hope to motivate that change, instead of turning around because it may not work out?
My lesson in 2008 is that the people who turn around are the ones who, even if they win at something, lose out on the wonder of the world -- on the bright side of humanity, on the beauty of our surroundings. I guess I've always sown my tapestries with an earnest ethic and and half-full glass beside me. This year proved that real triumph lives in those who get right back up after falling down, and not in those who choose to push others over.
I think this was exemplified in not only my feeling about the role of the good journalists around me who did their best to cover this monumental election, but also when I lost that pass into the DNC and thought the world was ending. Remember that? I sat in the Brown Palace bar, thinking that seeing Bill Clinton on TV wasn't half as good as being inside the big kids' club down the street. But something got me out of that barstool and onto the street, where my anxiety took hold and I found myself on a mission. And then I found myself with a convention pass because somebody else was sweet and helped out another. The next morning, a great friend called with even better passes into history -- Obama's acceptance speech at Invesco. The energy of that stadium was a good reminder that hope is never lost, only that it sometimes hides until it finds the perfect moment to be expounded and embraced. At least by the whole of humanity.
And then I had those moments in New Orleans, hearing stories from real leaders of change and working with others, my own age, to figure out the best ways to address the problems around us. Even though much of the city is still not rebuilt, or even cleaned up, three years after Katrina, an American flag still flew outside a trailer home in the Lower Ninth Ward, and a man stood smiling underneath it, welcoming his fellow citizens' helping hands.
Then, El Salvador. So imperfect and perfect all at the same time. The imperfections stemmed from the things we can't control, and the men who choose to ignore their humanity and instead to steal. The perfection is in the strength of community, of friendships, of forgiveness -- of the hope that the world doesn't have to be this way, and even when we feel helpless to change it, our love for each other makes a big enough dent in the issues. If lots more of us loved one another, we'd solve lots more problems. It is not something to taken lightly, or solved overnight, but every little bit helps...or at least I've seen.
The past year's adventures, people, and projects in various moments made this point as clear as ever for me. And for that, I am thankful. The best part? Seeing the significance of love, the importance of peace, and the power of HOPE certainly led to some fun times.
The imperfections of El Salvador, or the frustrations with the politics of campaigns, or the vision of destruction in America, was never fun. But, the children's laughs, the energy of a stadium around one man, the lone trailer surrounded by hundreds of college-aged volunteers -- those are the threads of fun moments. An adventure is never an adventure, a project never fully finished, I've seen, unless there are some smiles, some inside jokes, some moments where all you want to do is dance.
I can't dance worth as much energy or time it takes me to do so -- but this year, I've found reason to dance.
Here's my last lengthy, philosophical story.
Over the summer, I saw "Mamma Mia" with Anne. By the end of the movie, we were more than laughing -- we were in our seats dancing to "Take a Chance on Me." We decided it prudent to recreate "Dancing Queen" in my apartment someday.
In El Salvador, I lived a similar scene with Beckie. We saw the movie in a Salvadoran theater and could hardly stay in our seats by the end of the movie. During the credits, we were full-on dancing in the aisles.
Did I mention I can't dance?
I think Colin Firth said it best:
"When one is so bad at something that there is absolutely no hope whatsoever of being able to achieve anything at all, at any level, you can't really be frightened."
That's me and dancing -- so, why not?
And why be afraid when you have love? When you strive for peace -- personal or otherwise? When you can have fun?
And what about when all of this combines to give us the greatest gift of all: hope. Hope that nothing can hold us back, that change is possible, that stealing backpacks doesn't steal our hearts?
The world is a wonderful place. And it's made up of even more wonderful people, the lot of which I can't thank now. Simply: Mom, Grandma, Rande, Sam, Elizabeth, Anne, Holtz, Mike, Zoee, the students and teachers of Project El Salvador, the people of Altos de Jardines and of El Salvador, the crew of 9NEWS...you made my world this year. And almost all of my days.
You taught me about love, about strength, about friendship, and about never letting go of any of those things. You taught me to laugh at myself, to see the world for what it is and what it can be, what it should be. But most of all, you taught me never to stop having fun and teaching peace -- and that those are not wholly incompatible things.
You may say I'm a dreamer,
but I'm not the only one.
I hope someday you will join us
and the world will live as one.
~MJ
Lyrics by John Lennon, "Imagine."
No comments:
Post a Comment