Dear Graduate: Reflections from Convocation Week
I’ve worked in higher education for about a year and during this time, I’ve been filled with a vivacity and inspiration I’ve not experienced before. Perhaps it is that I can now appreciate, as my years march on, the spirit, hope and potential of all the young minds and hearts around me. I walk through the hallways every day, smiling inside and out watching young adults, those awkward and uncomfortable in their own skin and those jovial and confident, ready to take on the world. They are all stars to me and while I feel the pang of middle age, I also feel the strength of wisdom, knowledge and experience that I can now pass on to them in those moments when our lives briefly intersect.
I’m experiencing my first convocation week as an employee. It was 24 years ago this week that I was the graduating student so I’m doing a lot of reflecting about my university years and the plethora of emotion that comes with reaching this particular end. Convocation week is a big deal; the planning begins months in advance. It’s like coordinating two weddings a day for five days straight, requiring all hands on deck. The attention to detail, to tradition, to exuding the pomp and circumstance these young minds and their loved ones deserve is nothing short of exceptional.
I was asked to lend a hand, to open the ceremonies with a brief scripted welcome and introduction. I immediately said yes; it’s what I do. I commit, then ruminate, rationalize and act. Sometimes public speaking is about the speaker but in this case, whomever stood in front of those thousands of guests each day was irrelevant. It just wasn’t about me which made accepting the offer to speak a much easier decision. Far too often in life, we imagine ourselves as front and centre in a situation when quite frankly, no one really notices and most people have a short attention span. We worry too much about how others look at us, think of us, judge us, but most of the time, we’re not that big of a deal. Being perceived as important or relevant beyond those closest to us is an unnecessary pressure we place on ourselves. Being our authentic self regardless of who is watching is all that matters and it has taken decades on this earth to finally realize that this is truly a journey-for-one. Life is a lot more manageable when we eventually understand this and carry out our existence a little more lightly. I’m a proud introvert who seriously digs deep connections with people so I don’t hungrily seek out reasons to public speak. I’ll usually forgo the spotlight unless I’m leading a session on a topic that I’m completely in love with and want to share with my audience so they fall in love with it too. Then . . . It Is On!
This was not that. This was a different kind of magic.
The other reason I thought this short stage stint was a good idea was more personal in nature. So I guess it was about me! My university years were not years of laughter, partying, hours in the library, pub nights, establishing friendships, campus clubs and chasing academic success. Mine were fear-filled days where, more often than not, I drove to school, tried to talk myself into the building while licking ice cream in an attempt to reduce the inflammation that was the lump in my throat, battling the long crowded hallways, overstimulated by the noise, the heat, the bodies. The lecture hall was so far away from my starting point and I knew that if I eventually made it to the doors at the end of that corridor, I’d swing them open only find more people, more noise and less air. If I start to panic, who will help me? I carried a paper bag in case I hyperventilated and kept a water bottle to lubricate my parched throat and to splash on my face if the symptoms became too overwhelming. I kept a tight rubber band on my wrist to snap myself back to reality if my racing mind became unbearable. In those days, there weren’t computers and cell phones to distract one’s attention. You just had to sit there and survive the brutal inner commentary and the relentless sense of impending doom. Like so many students, too many students, the struggle with panic disorder is crippling, terrorizing and extremely lonely. Those were my university years.
So the importance of helping out at convocation was even greater, as I knew there were others in the room who are where I once was. In that respect, my intentions were two-fold; get up there and be a calm voice, a warm smile, and a wink of encouragement for anyone I sensed may be teetering on the edge as I did on my convocation day. It took every ounce of strength to survive that ceremony and the months leading up to it housed the worst kind of dread. So this brief gig was also a gift I gave myself; the gift of kicking anxiety’s ass for all the years it smothered me, limited me and terrified me. Hey panic attacks; how’d ya like me now? I won.
Of course I know that anxiety will always be a part of who I am and when symptoms bubble up, I can now quickly welcome them, address them, then kick them to the curb. What I’ve come to learn over a lifetime of managing it is that every time I take a risk and push myself through the discomfort, I am power-building. My mind’s muscle gains strength through every mental dead lift, bench press and squat.
The Ceremony
So there I am, up on stage providing a basic welcome and introduction. What a privilege. I wish everyone could have been me in those opening moments. The room was silent and families and friends were waiting for that second when their graduand appeared through the glass doors. Indigenous drummers provided the breathtaking backdrop as these successful students marched up the aisles of the auditorium to their tribal beat, likely feeling the same drumming in their chest. Families snapping cameras, recording every moment and the occasional hoot and holler from small pods in the crowd. My cheeks were burning from trying to contain my joy, holding back from joining in with a fist-pump and a woo-hooo!
The sea of people was amazing; every gorgeous tone of humanity from snow white to jet black staring back at me. Jeans and jackets, suits and dresses, Converse high tops and 6-inch heels, and some of the most exquisite African garb, as colourful and beautiful as those wearing them; the room was filled with a wildness and diversity that allowed every single person to feel at home. With all of the hate that still sadly swirls around us every day, in this moment, in this place, at this time, we were one family sharing a single emotion; an overwhelming love for someone in that room. It was an energy I’d never experienced before and I felt almost greedy and indulgent being the only one to quietly observe and serve at this exact, exceptional moment in all of their lives.
As I left the university campus this one particular convocation day, there were two young Chinese women swapping places on the wood and iron bench in the garden, surrounded by lush green and massive blooms that you could smell wafting across the grounds long before you could even see them. They were giggling and excited, taking pictures of one another in their gowns, degrees in hand. They were light and carefree and I was instantly drawn in. I approached them with a smile and asked if they wanted a picture together, to which they excitedly and gratefully accepted. I took a few shots from different angles and distances because perfectly capturing their combined awesomeness and emotion was of vital importance. They will not remember me, but they will always have that moment, in the gardens, on the bench, together. There were families roaming campus with their graduates beaming , gowns blowing wildly in the warm wind. There was laughter and joy beyond measure and I’d like to hope that for most, it was the perfect day.
While my moment in their lives was brief, there are still a few things I’d want to say if the stage were mine. And while I no longer have their attention, I’ll throw my thoughts out there into the universe and hope that it lands in the right hands or is of some value to someone, today or someday.
Dear Graduate
Hold onto your lightheartedness. I witnessed you wearing it with ease and simplicity. That warmth and laughter, the sisterhood, brotherhood, youthful energy and authenticity. The sharing, joining, connecting with the world around you. The openness. The excitement. Be aware of your lightheartedness today and try to bottle it, somewhere deep down inside. Hold it safe, hold it sacred. Sip from it for a moment each day.
Life throws us strife and struggle, challenge and tragedy, and it will build your resilience, I assure you. There is value in it all; the ebb and flow of ups and downs washing upon us gently and brutally. When we reach the other side of the dark, there is progress and possibility, but only if we bottle our lightheartedness and sip even just a little each day.
Face life, but don’t let it consume you. Focus, evolve and push on, but don’t forget to play, and take a sip everyday.
Nurture your brilliance and bloom dammit, but don’t put your energy into becoming a tulip if, at your core you are a daisy. Maintain your true essence, your soul, your centre, because you’re perfect just as you are. You are splendid, unfolding to become more of yourself, not more like anyone or anything else. Simply be the gift that is already you so that you never lose yourself in this mad, twisted world of smoke and mirrors. Slow down for a moment to be effortlessly you, then take a sip and be light.
Look for magic and never stop because I assure you, it’s in the small, insignificant moments of our every day. We who’ve been in this game a little longer miss it too often because we stopped believing in it; we lost our starry-eyed wonder through the angst and discomfort of experiencing life. But in everything, there is a silver lining. Never stop digging deep to find it, for the more we dig, the less we’ll need to. Make the hungry hunt for silver linings a habit, as life will unfold anyway and much of it will be outside of your control. You can do life the easy way or the hard way, but life will live on its own timeline and how we choose to experience it, with either fear or fervour will be ours.
Slide on your rose-coloured glasses, with eyes wide open and curious, as no one ever said you have to choose between realism and idealism. When at a crossroads, step back and please promise me you’ll take your sip. Life is not as serious as you think and your attempts to control it is frankly an unfortunate waste of time. Like a rising tide, let it come and let it go, as some things are simply not yours to manipulate or manage. They just aren’t. Please don’t misunderstand me; I’m not saying don’t take life seriously. I’m saying don’t take it too seriously. There is a difference.
Take your sip when you feel yourself pressured and overwhelmed because when life weighs too heavy on you, your anxiety is winning. You need to remember today; laughing, taking pictures, warmly celebrating one another, giggling with your best friend as you document your special day. Rejoice in the incredible milestones and continue to support all of those around because you know what? We all need that; to feel loved, supported, recognized, appreciated and celebrated. And not just at these significant milestones but also, for sometimes simply surviving a difficult day.
It’s so easy to get swept up in our own lives so don’t forget to look up once in a while and maintain the warmth, generosity, compassion and kindness I see in you today. It’s in the bottle and there to sip but also to share with others who never had a bottle to sip from or who have dealt with so much trauma and tragedy that any light they had dimmed long ago.
As your special day comes to an end, remember the hugs and high-fives with your classmates as you slid on your gown. Remember the exhilaration of marching up the aisle in the beautifully adorned auditorium surrounded by love. Smile to yourself as you recall your name being called and shaking hands with university brass who handed over the formal evidence of your years of hard work. Recall the tears in your mother’s eyes, the squeeze of your father’s hand, the kiss of your lover so proud to be beside you, the fist-bump of your best friend, your frail but determined grandmother who wouldn’t have missed your big moment for the world. I only hope everyone had someone there to celebrate them. If not, you can be sure my heart was full enough of admiration that no one got missed. Bottle this lightheartedness, carry it with you and take a sip every day.
From here, walk light, talk light, be light. In everything you do, with everyone you meet, keep your lightness. It really is the most beautiful part of you and the world needs it; the world needs you at ease. If you take a sip every day, you’ll maintain a peace and clarity that will allow you to be your best self in this world. You cannot do this under pressure; you cannot do this caged. You cannot do this if you are filled with dark.
