university

why is it that when we go through a momentous event, we feel as though no one could possibly understand the significance? and no one would be able to empathize with the myriad of conflicting emotions that have overtaken the mind. i woke up this morning remembering that in exactly one week from today, i will be graduating university, and in two weeks from today, i will be starting a new job in alaska. university has been six years in coming, and it wasn't even a goal of mine when i finished high school. yet it feels like the biggest milestone yet in my 24 years, because i chose it - we were required by our parents and by law to be in school until grade 12. this... this was my choice... to devote years, thousands of dollars, and thousands of hours into a priceless education. and i feel like it is a really big deal. i want to shake some shoulders and say, "no, do you really understand what this means for me?"

then i step back and realize that in my community of human beings, i am just one in a steady stream of college graduates - many have gone before, and many will follow. it's not that my particular circumstance isn't special; it's that everyone's circumstance is special. everyone sacrifices for their goals, everyone struggles, everyone writes those awful tuition checks, and everyone anxiously writes exams. my goal is to get my selfish eyes off my own experience and have the freedom to empathize with others wherever they are, and with whatever they are struggling with. isn't this why we are given a variety of experiences - so we can "rejoice with those who rejoice, and mourn with those who mourn"? if i had never attended college, i would be out of touch with a major life-event of many people around me. so here comes the paradigm shift: maybe my university education (as valuable as it undoubtedly is) is not the point. maybe the point is to be in community.