A New Familiar

“We can’t control the direction of the wind but we can adjust our sails.”

College is a fucking mess. Anyone who tells you they actually have their life together, they’re probably lying. If there is one thing I’ve learned over my three years so far, it’s that planning and a desire for stability help, but in the long run, it’s our adaptability that saves us. As someone who likes planning, and keeps a planner in order to organize my ever bustling life, this is something that’s been hard for me to learn. I’m still learning it, actually.

For a good part of my life, the quote above has held a special meaning to me. Though I just learned recently that it originates from Thomas S. Monson, to me they were simply a life lesson on the back of an old necklace my mom gave me while I was in high school. On one side of the coin, there is a sailboat with a cloudy sky behind it, and the quote is engraved on the other side. Many days when life seems rough, I wear this necklace under my shirt and hold those words close to my heart.

For the academic year of 2016 to 2017, I adjusted my sails, and made a huge leap. Before understanding that leap though, it’s important that I explain what got me to run towards it in the first place. My freshman year of college was...interesting. After growing up in a small southern town for my entire life, and mainly traveling to places within a 5 hour radius, I made the move down to Tampa, Florida for college. Instantly, I loved it, and suddenly my world had expanded way more than I had imagined it would. At the University of Tampa, southern born students are a minority. Most of our student body hails from the Northeastern United States, and a good number also travels from an abundance of different countries. Talk about becoming a little fish in a big pond. As the semester went on, I continued to make friends and get involved, but something seemed...off. I couldn’t figure out why, but my depression, previously controlled in high school, slithered its way back into my life. For the most part, I hid this pretty well. After all, I had years of practice with that. But upon returning home for winter vacation, I broke and made the decision to take a semester off, try and figure out what was happening, and stay home. While there, I convinced myself I had been completely unhappy, hated the city, hated Florida, and needed to be back in Georgia. In the moment, I told myself I was just adjusting my sails, when in actuality I was scared of the direction my boat had been going.

Originally...I wasn’t sure what was going to happen. Part of me thought that I was only going to take this semester off, and be back in the fall semester. But the other part of me didn’t think that would happen. The later part of me beat the other side to a pulp, and I ended up enrolling in a college closer to home for my sophomore year. During this year, I went through a lot of growing up. I moved into an apartment with friends, worked two jobs, and attacked my future life plan with whole hearted intentions of figuring it all out (Boy was I wrong about that happening).

This time I was home ended mirroring my first semester a lot, simply spread out over a longer period of time. It wasn’t just “staying home”. I immersed myself fully into the community that I was in there. One of the most important things I’ve found in life is having a community. The time we spend completely separated from people is nice on occasion, especially for clearing thoughts and recharging...but it’s like leaving a puzzle unfinished on your dining room table for months. Suddenly, the love of community starts pulling you in, begging you to finish the puzzle, and making the threat of isolation much more prominent.

My community in Georgia didn’t make me unhappy...but after more and more time there I felt that dreaded sense of missing something coming back into my head, pestering me at night as I laid in my bed and stared at the ceiling. This little devil on my shoulder took up residency there for quite sometime, until finally spring arrived. Due to a really rad job I had, I ended up back in Tampa for a leadership immersion. While there, I had the most unexpected punch in the face of my life. Imagine my surprise, when my heart cried out and told me that I really, truly missed Tampa. I began obsessing over the idea. Suddenly it seemed that the devil was actually a bit of an angel sitting by my ear instead. After a lot of talking to my mom, even more talking to God, and more nights sitting staring at walls and ceiling and thinking about what the hell I was doing, I started to back up so I could make the running start for what would lead to that huge jump I mentioned before. Ultimately, I made the decisions to re-apply. Within a week of applying and sending in my transcripts, I was accepted back into the University of Tampa as a readmitted student.

My acceptance letter was such a shock. I don’t think I really thought of the possibility as real until that happened. It seemed to line up too perfectly for it not to be fated by God above. When I finally started telling people, though it sucked I was going to leave some absolutely beautiful people and amazing experiences behind, I began to get more and more excited. You know that feeling you get as a kid the night before Christmas? Where you can’t sleep and you sit up at night, trying to hear Santa and imagining what presents you would find under the tree? That was me for the months leading up to fall semester. I couldn’t wait to see what new things lay and wait for me under the palm trees.

But I was also scared to death. I still had a hurdle in front of me. The thought that I hated Florida, outside of the school, still persisted in the forefront of my thoughts. I’m definitely a mountains boy, even with my never ending love for the beach. So the idea of going back to a flat, no mountain state was a little bit strange for me. Add that to the idea that I loved the community aspect of a small town, and you get a lot of nerves bunching up and cocooning in my stomach.

However, I embraced it. I chose to focus on those excited bubbles I was feeling, and prepared for the new year, adjusting my sails once more. When I finally made the leap and moved back down to the sunshine state, it was like I finally had found the last border piece of my puzzle that had fallen under the dining room tables months before, evading my eye until I finally expanded my horizon of searching. With the outside edge of my puzzle completed, I could finally focus on the inside. And let me tell you, the puzzle pieces have been continuously falling into place. I’ve received more job opportunities, became even MORE involved, and have strengthened so many bonds and added multiple new friendships.

Even with all of this though, it wasn’t until recently that my mindset had changed. During the fall semester, I continuously told myself that I hated Florida. I even told everyone else. My future was focused on moving out of the city once I had my degree, probably buying a house in a suburban town, and trying to do life.

In hindsight, that’s a bunch of bullshit.

During December of 2016, I made the commitment to myself to stop saying how much I hate Florida, and to really embrace the city that I’ve found a new home in. This has changed so much of my outlook on life, and allowed me to fully embrace the quote I’ve tried to live by for so much of my adult life.

Returning to Tampa from winter break in Georgia, I was galvanized to make this year mine. With all the shit going on in the world right now, a positive (but realistic) mindset was definitely what I needed to be clutching with all my strength. For the most part, that has held true. Upon starting this new semester, I decided first to make another leap (I’ve gotten quite good at them, by now) and to change my major...again. This has happened quite a few times, but changing it to English this semester was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. My classes are so intriguing, my professors and classmates are awesome, and I’m making even more steps in finding my way in what I want to do with my life.

Saturday, I was walking home from work. Tampa has a really beautiful pathway called the Riverwalk, and it’s something I’ve chosen to embrace more this year. Usually when I get off work, the sun is setting and the sky is lit up with oranges and yellows that warm your heart to the core. If you’ve never seen a Florida sunset, you’re missing out. But this Saturday was special. My job had an event that caused me to stay later, and when I walked outside, the sun had long ran away and darkness now covered the sky. As I made my way down the Riverwalk and back to campus, I could hear music that usually wasn’t there. Previously to discovering this, I had been in my own little world, focused on getting home. But this music stopped me in my tracks. It was the sound of someone playing the saxophone down closer to the water. His music filled my ear, pulling me into its spell. My eyes focused on the bridge in front of me, lit up with bright pink transitioning into deep, royal purple, and followed its lines all the way to my university across the water. There the minarets of our historic building lit up against the night sky, framed by tall palm trees standing like guards around it. With the saxophone still playing, I then looked around at the people I had been completely oblivious to before. I saw families laughing with each other, lovers on romantic dates, friends running around and making memories they’ll one day tell when they get together over dinner years from now. I saw those with money, and those without. I saw different races, different genders, different ages. As I got closer, I saw the man playing this beautiful music, and another sound joined my ears. A young husky puppy sat in front of the musician after pulling his owner over, and began barking and howling along with the music. Many gathered to smile, and watch, and laugh, drawn there by the same spell that had pulled me closer. Looking up at the purple bridge one more time, it finally hit me that I really do love this city, and I’m blessed to live here.

Growing up, I had always been told that small towns are where you go for community, and cities are where you go for isolation. While this may be true for some, I’ve found different. The past few months I’ve began to fall in love with this city community. Sure, I can’t guarantee I’m going to see someone I know each time I go to the store, but that’s half the fun. Each day I wake up I’m presented with a cornucopia of opportunities to meet someone new, to have a new experience, to create a new memory.

You see, community isn’t something that is just handed to you. Not in the city, anyway. But it’s there; you’ve just gotta find it. It’s there in the barista who knows your name and your usual order. Its there in the bookstore owner who you can sit and talk to about what rare books they’ve found now. It’s there in the servers of the local restaurants who tell you about their favorite dish. It’s there in the people that you see once or twice in the park. It’s there in the fellow student you see on campus everywhere. It’s there in the bar you always find yourself in, even if you don’t recognize everyone else there. It’s in laughter filled parks, the sweat of packed concerts, in filled parking spots of the grocery store and the hurt, empowered voice of protesters down the street.

To me, community isn’t just about running into an old friend in the grocery store, or having someone vent to about your life problems. It’s about shared space and experience.

On Saturday, I engaged in community with the people listening to the man sitting on the bench and spreading his music to the world. It doesn’t matter that I don’t know any of their names, where they come from, or what they do with the rest of their life. All that matters is that in the moment, we all experienced something beautiful in one common space. Yeah, living in the city it’s easy to get caught up in the fact that you don’t know what’s out there. But what’s important is focusing on what part you play in the big picture. You might not know all the details, but you’re part of it. Acknowledging the ambiguity of life makes it so much more enjoyable than trying to constantly figure things out.

Community is about embracing that you don’t know everyone, that a lot of the people around you are different, and still tackling the day with gusto and an openness to others. Going out each day and deciding to actively engage with those around me, whether I know them or not, is one of the most beautiful things I’ve learned since living here.

There’s more to the quote I introduced earlier. Monson goes on to say “For maximum happiness, peace, and contentment, may we choose a positive attitude.” I didn’t know the rest of this quote until recently, but it’s come into my life at a perfect time. I’ve realized the potential in adjusting my sails. I saw that through moving back down to Florida. I see that now, in my decision to love my life and where I’m at right now, even though I know I’ve still got quite a way to sail through and figure things out. And that’s okay. Actually, it’s more than okay. It’s fantastic. My life has so much more to come, and embracing the beauty and adventure in each day is what is going to make my life full of that happiness, peace, and content that Monson talks about. I used to think that living in a city would make me feel lost in the strangeness of it all. And I was right. There is a lot of strange, spontaneous things that happen to me.

But now, it seems the strangeness is becoming my familiar.