This is water

by Katie Welker

As a recent college graduate, and someone who was fortunate enough to give the undergraduate student commencement speech on behalf of my graduating class, I can vouch for two things: it is difficult to contrive a speech that will resonate with a large and diverse audience, and it is difficult to sit through a speech that does not. I stumbled upon the 2005 Kenyon College commencement speech and was so captivated by the message that I felt it necessary to share.

I promise you it is worth watching the short video in its entirety. You can find it at the bottom of this post. Here is a short excerpt:

“If you want to operate on your default settings then you, like me, probably won’t consider possibilities that aren’t annoying and miserable. But if you really learn how to think, how to pay attention, then you will know you have other options. It will actually be within your power to experience a crowded, hot, slow, consumer-hell type situation as not only meaningful, but sacred, on fire with the same force that lit the stars: love, fellowship, the mystical oneness of all things deep down.

Not that that mystical stuff’s necessarily true. The only thing that’s capital T-True is that you get to decide how you’re going to try to see it. This, I submit, is the freedom of real education. Of learning how to be well-adjusted. You get to consciously decide what has meaning and what doesn’t. That is real freedom … None of this stuff is really about morality or religion or dogma or big fancy questions of life after death. The capital T-Truth is about life before death.”

 

When you let [him] go

by Katie Welker
Staring at the bottom of your glass
Hoping one day you’ll make a dream last
But dreams come slow and they go so fast

I wore rose-colored glasses. He was a dream to me that I considered myself fortunate enough to have made a reality. He pushed my buttons, a necessary quality for me. He was smart and so unbelievably driven. Our families adored one another. At bottom, it was effortless. I really believe that we made each other better, at least for a short while. I could walk around without makeup, swear to my heart’s content and eat like a slob in front of him without being judged. He was my best friend and the love of my life. That is, until he wasn’t anymore.

Staring at the ceiling in the dark
Same old empty feeling in your heart
‘Cause love comes slow and it goes so fast

Things change when you let someone go. The rose-colored glasses shatter. The halo around their head disappears. The sarcastic remarks they made are no longer wrapped in good intentions and now come across as just plain rude. The caring that you have for them remains, but the way in which they complement your ambitions shifts.

Well you see her when you fall asleep
But never to touch and never to keep
‘Cause you loved her too much
And you dived too deep

Sometimes you have to remove yourself from someone’s life long enough to see who he or she, and you, are without one another. In due time, true colors always reveal themselves. Of course, your impression of a person is based on personal perception often dictated by experiences over time.

Yet time removed can open your eyes and allow you to step aside from your former-honeymoon stage way of thinking. Shifting from a once seamlessly integrated component to a mere acquaintance shakes up the soul in an invigorating way, whether or not it is beneficial for your happiness is dictated by your ability to use the change as an opportunity rather than a road block.

Alternative perceptions of others can be brutal to witness and experience, but more often than not they are the driving force in finding the strength to not look back.

Only know you love her when you let her go
And you let her go