The First Day Of The Rest Of My Life

Today is just another day. There’s nothing special about this particular Friday, nothing extraordinary about it’s existence. It arrived just as yesterday did, and just as tomorrow inevitably will. Today is just another day, and yet, this morning I awoke with such a fervor for life, such an overwhelming feeling of contentment and happiness, that somehow today became important. Today became the first day of the rest of my life. At least, that’s how I’ll grow to remember it.

My favorite teacher, who happens to teach the only class I have on Fridays, likes to tell stories (which is probably why he has become my favorite teacher). It’s always a great way to end the week, listening to his little anecdotes about his life’s many adventures. I always leave feeling inspired. In many ways, I wish more of my teachers would talk about themselves. I always feel as though I’m learning more listening to grown ups reflect on their lives than taking notes on historical facts and figures. I wish it was possible to major in “life lessons.”

Then again, I suppose that’s what all of us do major in, in some way or another. The world acts as one gigantic classroom, and we are the lifelong students of it’s many mysteries. It’s always nice when teachers see things that way too. Dr. Kim is one of those teachers, and so today we talked about the importance of recognizing your identity, recognizing yourself. He was twenty and currently attending Dickinson when it happened. Like today, it was an ordinary day. There wasn’t any defining event taking place or any notable occurrences, but the day became important. It became the first day of the rest of his life. As he washed his hands in the bathroom, he looked up at the mirror and was suddenly struck with the realization that he wasn’t white. It seems a strange thing not to know about oneself, especially by the age of twenty, but really, it hadn’t occurred to him that he was so noticeably Asian, so “not white.” Having spent his life as the only Korean around, believing that he had become invisible, that he didn’t stand out, it hadn’t occurred to him that he did. It hadn’t occurred to him that he was different. It was strange for him to so suddenly, so unexpectedly, discover that he wasn’t who he had believed himself to be.

“We live our lives based on who we think we are,” he said, “what we believe is true.” I quickly jotted his words down on the side of my notebook, knowing that they may be the most important words I’d hear all semester. It’s unnerving to think that you may not be who you think you are, but in reality, you probably aren’t. Even with what I consider to be a strong sense of myself, I am constantly struck with how many things I don’t know, don’t understand, about who I am and how I fit into the world. There have been many occasions when I too have looked in the mirror and not recognized my own face. “Oh, so that’s me” I think. Sometimes it’s hard to remember that your mind and soul are connected to your body.

If you’ve ever lived in the wilderness for any amount of time, ever been in a place without mirrors, you may understand this. I don't mean the idea of feeling beautiful on the outside versus the inside, although that may be part of me, but about the idea of truly seeing oneself. We put everyone into categories, under labels, to make it easier to understand where we fit in, but in doing so, we overshadow the importance of exploring the many layered depths of ourselves, the essence of our beings. We forget to ask the age old question of “who am I, really?”

This is much more philosophical and existential than I had originally intended it to be. I had just wanted to discuss this day, this perfectly ordinary day, when I began thinking about myself and my life in a broader way. Today is the day I realized I want to explore who I am. Even if I never reach a definite conclusion, which I suspect I won’t, the journey will be the answer in and of itself. The world is my classroom, and I will continue to be it’s student. I will continue to ask questions and find answers, and then continue to ask more questions about those answers. I will continue on and on until I reach the final test, which consists of only one question. Was it all worth it? I can only hope the answer will be yes.