What is it about college, where time seems to lose all meaning? Days bleed together like a watercolor, each memory more difficult to distinguish as the weeks fly by. I’ve spent less than a month back on campus, yet life before this place feels like a stranger to me. Perhaps it’s the layers of academic pressure, relationship volatility, and job-hunting stress that have built a wall between my “summer self” and the over-committed perfectionist I am at this very moment. Pause. If I’m being totally honest, I pretty much never abandon my perfectionistic tendencies, nor do I know how to relax very well. But certain times of the year are more “amped” up than others, and this is one of those times. Hello Senior year, I guess you couldn’t be all fun and games, eh?
My mother, the voice of reason, always told me to slow down, Katherine. In high school, she saw the girl I became as my commitments grew ever-more demanding. She tried to pull me back, tried to make me realize that there’s more to life than following a schedule. Hard to see the forest from the trees I suppose. When you’re surrounded by brilliant minds, many of whom have mastered the art of time management better than I’ve mastered online shopping (and that’s saying a lot, just ask my poor wallet…and yes, that was a pun), it’s difficult to allow yourself to stop and smell the roses. I am from the turbo-charged generation, after all. We just keep going, and going, and going. You get the idea.
But last weekend, I was finally reunited with my inner-dance. Surrounded by my dearest friends, we celebrated all it means to be connected to something bigger than ourselves. From the moment we woke up to Here Come the Irish blasting down the hallway (you know it’s going to be a good day when your Saturday morning starts off in song) til we were forced to evacuate the football stadium when an impending severe storm overtook the September sunshine, I felt complete and utter happiness. It’s the kind of contentment that merits a constant smile.
My true epiphany came as we walked out of the stadium and found ourselves caught below the ominous glare of the angry clouds above. Sure enough, a roar of thunder triggered their might, and raindrops began falling madly upon us like tears from a sobbing child. While my nature is always to take shelter from the rain, this time was different. I looked over at one of my best friends and couldn’t help but laugh at her drenched silhouette. Our vulnerability was a beautiful thing. Let’s run, she said. Ok, I’ll race you home, I replied. And so we ran, jumping in puddles along the way.
Life’s not about waiting for the storm to pass, it’s about learning how to dance in the rain.
I finally learned to dance. The best part is I realized that I’d known the steps all along—it was a matter of embracing them that took 21 years to figure out.
And so, in the infamous words of Lady Gaga, I dare you to Just dance. It’ll be ok.
