27

When I was a kid, twenty-seven was the age of personal adulthood. It’s when I would have looked like an adult, talked like an adult, and felt like an adult. I’m not sure why 27 was the magic number – this might have been influenced by a lot of the books I read, the movies I watched or the people around me. 27 was the age where life would have come together and the stars would have aligned and I would be blessed with a halo and a glowing light of wisdom and enlightenment.

I am now 27. I am starting to think that adults are mythical creatures made up by any of the above: an ingenious Hollywood executive; a cunning advertising professional; a creative but desperate children’s author. (Or it could have been all of them, in a conference room, drinking coffee and eating cookies.)

Adulthood is like that red, shiny, perfect, apple in the garden of Eden – except that instead of a deep booming, warning voice that says, “Don’t eat it for you will surely die,” this red, shiny, apple is dangling in front of you – close enough to smell but far enough to reach. A quiet, seductive voice behind you whispering, “You are close, really close.” That’s on a good day. On a bad day, it’s a dark, threatening echo, “You were so close!”

So, lesson number one, a lot of what you know about growing up and growing old, are very rough sketches. Do not let those “standards” dictate your life. Every single person out there is still trying to figure it out. Even the ones who tell you they have the answers, that they know the way, they’ve done it, been there and bought that wonderful shirt. Listen, read between the lines and really listen. A lot of people mean well, and they do want to help, but recognize that their life and your life could be in two very different trajectories.

You know that popular phrase, “Stop, look and listen?” These days, I try to think about it in reverse. Listen, look and stop. There comes a point in life where instead of soaking up everything, your brain just recognizes that not all of it is good stuff, at least not for you. You start to really question, and then you reject, and sometimes, you grudgingly accept.

You start to listen more discriminatingly, you look around with wider eyes and you stop to really think about what it means. Because a lot of times, it probably means nothing. As in nothing important. And sometimes, when you stop, you realize, my goodness, it’s more important than you think.

27 TWO

I am now 27. I am still trying to figure out what wisdom really means and if enlightenment is something anyone can ever hope to achieve (or want to) in this life. I now have more questions than I have answers. In the last few weeks, I have googled the internet in search of enlightenment on the following:

Why do I hate running

How to sanitize my iPhone

How to wake up early

What do I do with my life

How to cook carbonara

When to throw eggs out

What do I do with my life

How to build endurance

Am I allergic to mosquitoes

What color is robin-egg-blue  

What’s amazing is that every single one of these questions were part suggestions in my Google search. This, as you can tell, is a great source of comfort and encouragement that I am not alone in my awkwardness and my pursuit of wisdom. Ha. What’s even more remarkable is that there are answers, specific, step-by-step-complete-with-videos-and-pictures-answers to all the above. Go ahead, test it out.  

Lesson number two, be more interested in your life and personal development than any of the TV shows, celebrities, politicians, friends that you follow on social media or newspaper, or the mall. Like seriously. This is painful for me to admit, but if I put together all the hours I spent watching, reading, stalking other people, personalities and businesses, I think I would have a degree in criminal justice (or something intense like that.)  Now, I’m not saying that those hours are a complete waste of time, because truly, they’re not. I’d say I’ve learned a lot more about photography, psychology, advertising, marketing, digital manipulation, free enterprise, and propaganda in social media than anywhere else, and it’s free. Kind of.  

The problem here though is that when I stop and think about putting that same amount of time, energy and attention in my own life or my own goals, I fizzle like a cheap sparkler on July 4^th. I start out enthusiastic and after a few days, my motivation dies down and I resort back to the usual mindset of later, or I’m doing just fine, for now.

The other day, I was fascinated, as a lot of people were, with the solar eclipse that only happens every million years (I just said that, I don’t really know). It was a whole event, people getting ready for it, making sure they were at the right place, had the right tools, had the best spot… All the pictures, all the videos, all the hashtags. A moment where everyone felt compelled to pay close attention and be aware of every single second. That singular focus, that same energy, I can guarantee you, could have lit up the whole world…

And as I was sitting in a coffee shop a few days later, I looked around and suddenly, a very original thought came to me: YOLO. You Only Live Once. Literally. I am only 27 on August 26, 2017, at 1:37 PM once. Not every million years! This moment, right now, is only going to happen one time. No repeats. This is it. I wanted to scream to everyone, this is rarer than the eclipse, people! Pay attention! That feeling was so intense, I had to take a deep breath. I felt like a psycho. But the simplicity and truth of that moment was not lost on me. I hope it’s never lost. But I know better. So, I am writing this down. Because in this age where everything and everyone is vying for our time, our energy, our money, our life – who do we give it to? Consciously or unconsciously? And why?

27 THREE

I am now 27. I don’t know if the stars will ever line up enough to give me a halo. Honestly, I don’t know if I care. The world is full of crazy, destructive, selfish people. The world is full of crazy, creative, generous people.

Lesson number three, people are not absolute devils or angels. Not even you. In your love or hatred of anyone, I think it’s terribly important not to lose sight of that. In our quest for justice, equality, fairness, peace and a better world, it’s so easy to forget that the person next to you, with all their arrogant self-centeredness or their blind indifference, is not your enemy. No, not really. Because as cliché as it sounds, we’re all humans, flesh and blood and soul and spirit and heart.

Imagine what society would be if we all had unwavering hope for our own untapped, abundant, potential and yet full awareness of our own destructive, dark and vicious tendencies?

I hear people defend politicians and celebrities all the time, like these personalities can do no wrong, see no evil, hear no evil. And then comes the other side, like they can do no good, that they eat hearts and souls for breakfast. It can be funny but it’s mostly just narrow-minded.

I think this is one of the great barriers to a lot of the social movements that we see today: one side dressing the other in black, complete with horns, a tail and a pitchfork… While that same side walks around wearing white, with matching wings that sparkles in the light, a halo and a harp.

Whose side, am I? I’m probably in both.

27 FOUR

I am now 27. I am not sure if there is and if there ever will be a “magic” number in life. The right time to do something, the perfect moment to be who you want to be. I think that might be ideas of someone who likes to procrastinate and is quite simply, vain. It’s one thing to be prepared but it’s another to aim for perfection before taking that step forward. Life is about taking leaps of faith, whether we care to admit it or not. My not-so-favorite quote puts it plainly, life is what happens while you’re busy making other plans.

Lesson number four, do not be afraid of what you don’t know; ignorance is not just bliss, it’s underrated. I’m not talking about abandoning your common sense or that you should live in a state of obliviousness. What I’m saying is, there is a certain kind of magic in the ignorance that does not understand the status quo and where the word “can’t” does not exist. In a world where experience is prized above all else, sometimes naivety can make you do things no one else would dare do. 

As you grow older, some of the most dangerous words you’ll ever hear goes something like, “We’ve always done it this way.” “This is how it should be.” “There’s no other way.”  

The people who believes these usually repeats them way too often. Stay away. Because when you hear this enough, you start to adhere to these ways of thinking – that you can’t and you shouldn’t. And you start to build ceilings and walls all around you, cleverly disguised as practicality and reality.

But what is knowledge? I want to believe it’s information that pull you up and not bring you down. 

When “experience” starts to feel like a cage and “knowledge” starts to sound like doors closing on you, go back to that time when you were a kid and nothing was holding you back.  That might be where true knowledge is and that’s where I’m hoping the real power lies. 

27 FIVE AND SIX

I am now 27. Every day it feels like life is coming together and then the next it’s falling apart. Repeat. It’s a constant loop of happiness and uncertainty, I often ask myself if it’s just because I am eating way too much sugar and drinking way too much coffee? I go to bed, watch some funny videos and celebrate the fact that life is one divine comedy. I will always be grateful for people’s sense of humor. I cannot imagine my life without memes. When words fail, memes speak.

Lesson number five, be patient with yourself. Loosen up. Stare at your face in the mirror. Look yourself in the eye and give yourself a big smile. It’s easy to be critical, don’t do it. You’re looking at a life-long friend whose been through it all with you, every step of the way. Be gentle and be kind, most of all be patient.

The other day I was outside, and I asked myself, at this point in my life, who do I look up to the most? Funny but when I looked up, I saw trees. And I realized, all this time, the pictures I’ve taken, nothing has captivated me more than trees. They grow vibrantly if they are planted at the right place, and die if they are not – communicating, either way, where they truly belong.

Trees stand tall, swaying with the breeze, feeding on the rain and the sun. Living every single day at the mercy of nature and yet they are one with their surroundings. They shed and they are pruned. And still they let go so generously. Like they know all of it is an essential part of the cycle of growth. They undergo seasons with dignity, beauty and with such patience. Like they’re in on a secret. Like time is a friend and not the enemy. This is how I want to treat myself, with the patience and generosity of a tree.

Lesson number six, be graceful with other people. When you start to appreciate your quirks, you realize that maybe your weaknesses could be your strengths, and some of your strengths could be your downfall. Freedom from inside extends out and you learn to embrace the illogical in other human beings. For all our irrationality, contradictions and craziness — I love how G.K. Chesterton puts it — we are all in the same boat in a stormy sea, and we owe each other a terrible loyalty.

Grace, when extended, is beautiful and powerful. It’s so difficult to describe and yet you know it when you see it, and you feel it when it’s there. Be uninhibited with it.

I saw a little boy at the beach, learning how to walk. He fell so many times and yet he kept standing up. At one point, he fell head first. I thought for sure he was going to stop and cry. He didn’t. He just blinked. After a few minutes of very intense concentration, trying to gather all his little muscles, he stood right up and kept on walking. The resilience of a child. No care about embarrassment, pride, fear or failure.

As you grow up, things and events start to chip away on that resilience. No one ever likes to admit this. We all like to think that adults are more resilient that children. (I’m not quite sure. I’ve never met a bitter child.) Embarrassment, pride, fear and failure are the elephants in the room. 

As you grow older, people treat each other like we’re all made of sterner stuff. We create standards in society that are impossible to achieve. The pressure, the stress, the anxiety that are around us on a day-to-day basis, how much of it did we create for each other? How much of it can we alleviate?

27 SEVEN

I am now 27.  Age is really just a number. Days go by, seasons change and time does not stop. Regardless. A lot of the things you used to love, you don’t care for as much. Some of the things you used to dislike are now your favorites. Certain things that touched you deeply still does.  They’ll probably never lose their place. The ideas that once repelled you become more acceptable and the ones you used to admire start to feel like propaganda. You wonder what is real and what is true and how it’s possible that most things are not both.  You wonder if you’ve changed or if you’re finally, slowly but surely, meeting yourself.

Lesson number seven, it doesn’t begin with you nor will it end with you. These are the crucial years. The years where you’re writing things down with a pen, not a pencil.  Days where it feels like you’re running out of time and days where you can hear the ticking of the clock. It’s a lot. Feeling. Thinking. Planning. Wanting. Needing. Dreaming. Drifting. Living. Breathing… It starts to feel like it’s all about you, that it’s all for you. Me, Myself and I.

It sounds absurd. It’s your life but it’s not just about you. And I think, to really live, this is something you need to recognize. One of my favorite books is Ecclesiastes. It talks about someone who decided to be unrestrained with the pleasures of life – trying anything and everything that looked good to him. He denied himself nothing. In the end, all he had to say was this: Meaningless! Like chasing after the wind.

For a work trip, I once stayed in Nevada, drove through Arizona and went to work in California. This is the part of the US I’ve never been to. It was such a different landscape. There were no trees, no squirrels, no tall buildings and no beach in sight. It was miles and miles of vast open land. The dry desert.

I would get on the road and there would only be a handful of cars with me. It was quiet and bare. It was beautiful, in a way that I am not used to. I loved it.

I was driving back to the hotel one day; the sun was setting. I was looking around so much I missed my exit. The next exit was, maybe, 30 minutes away. I was getting nervous. I don’t see any cars on the road. What if my car broke down? What if I don’t have enough gas? What if? What if? I went to find the closest gas station.

By this time, it was completely dark. I live in a small town so I thought I knew what dark was, I didn’t. This was a darkness that was so vast it was limitless. I had my headlights on, my high beams on, but it didn’t make a difference. When I look ahead, I see… nothing. No shadows. No moonlight. Just complete and total darkness. I felt so alone. I was in an empty planet.

I was terrified.

I was in awe.

My fear wanted that experience to end right away but a part of my soul soaked it up. It was overwhelming. I have never felt so small. And yet, for whatever reason, in that moment, I knew I was part of something much bigger. Like I was being shown my own insignificance so that I can finally grasp my own importance. That moment was my burning bush and I was standing on sacred ground.

Inside and outside of you there are a lot of changes going on. So much. I read somewhere your body changes every seven years, almost like a snake shedding its skin. Every four or eight years there is a new president somewhere in the world. Occasionally, there is a new business, technology or idea that revolutionizes the way we do things, the way we live life. In this ever-changing landscape, it gets more and more difficult to hold on to something constant.

These past few years I realized how important it is to have an anchor. And most importantly, to be attached to it in a way that’s intimately you. Not because of tradition, teachings or television. I’ve asked myself:  Would I believe in God (faith), in family and in friends if I wasn’t taught to? If I didn’t grow up in the environment that I was in? If it wasn’t something I saw everywhere, every day? Or did I believe in them because I was predisposed to? Nature or nurture? It’s a tough question, like the chicken and the egg problem.

I guess I’ll never know and maybe it’s not important. But this question allowed me to dig deep within myself and slowly understand my motivations. It’s helping me appreciate the values that are critical to me. It’s showing me why my life is mine but also yours. And yours is yours but also mine.

***

I turn 28 in about a month. A part of me feels like I’ll always be twenty-seven: idealistic, realistic, sarcastic, romantic. Maybe that’s why this exists, whatever this is.

I’ve always been drawn to the beauty of words.  What a profound gift we’ve been given to be able to string several letters together and watch them become bigger –  bigger than your feelings, bigger than your thoughts and sometimes, bigger than your heart. 

I’ve read these seven lessons so many times, debated them, questioned them and finally figured, what the heck. I am only 27 once.

“He smiled understandingly – much more than understandingly. It was one of those rare smiles with a quality of eternal reassurance in it, that you may come across four or five times in life. It faced – or seemed to face – the whole eternal world for an instant, and then concentrated on you with an irresistible prejudice in your favor. It understood you just as far as you wanted to be understood, believed in you as you would like to believe in yourself, and assured you that it had precisely the impression of you that, at your best, you hoped to convey.”   ~ The Great Gatsby, F. Scott Fitzgerald