What did I do to deserve this Life?

Okay, so I haven't written in forever...

I really have been meaning to write. But somehow I feel weird writing about trivial things in this blog - like what I did in school today that was cool and doctor-ish, or a sweet new kitchen gadget I got (teapot and dessert shooters, if you were curious), or whatever else. I don't want to write about silly things... cause it makes me feel guilty.

I had a conversation with a classmate today, Mike. He's got an interesting background, Palestinian and having moved him from Jordan. He is worldly, knowledgeable, and contemplative, but might not ever to admit to any of those noble qualities. Mike is one of the most reflective people in our class, at times making him the most self-critical as well. We've had a few conversations before and I'd like to think we're becoming good friends. In the least, we value each other's company amongst the craziness that is med school.

We talked about tons of things, but mostly of a revelation of sorts that Mike had recently - why do I have the things I have? Material, opportunistic, whatever - what did I do to deserve it? I think we both agreed that though a small part of it had something to do with working hard (eg getting into med school), even that was predisposed  by pure circumstance. The circumstance that we are here, living in the Triangle, near the best universities in the country, with the ability to buy the books we need and pay our rent and on and on. So sure, we've worked hard, but we are ABLE to work hard because of so many other things that we had no control over.

So what is it then? Luck? Fate? God? Maybe a bit of all three. Hell, maybe all three are really one thing.

My problem with thinking about why I even deserve what I have is this: that 1) I wont like the answer (being "You don't, you just have it anyway") and 2) that I'll feel guilty about it ("Other people work twice as hard and don't have half of what I have"...like survivor's guilt). Not liking the answer is perhaps okay, but feelings of guilt can be debilitating, at least for me. If I constantly feel bad for all the things I have, how will I ever put those things to good use? Not even for me, but for someone else?

But Mike made a good point after I expressed that sentiment. He doesn't think avoiding the question "Why?" is going to maintain one's ability to do good with what one has. Instead, he argued that asking "Why?" would push one to do better.

Interesting.

If I wonder about why I have been so "blessed" or "lucky" with the way my life has turned out, and don't answer the question with the naive response, "Because you worked for it," then clearly I am aware that the forces at work in this world are seemingly random and often unfair. If I at least wonder, then I can maintain some humility, release myself of entitlement and self-righteousness. I can remind myself that for whatever reason, I have so many gifts in my life. I am going to be a doctor, I have a beautiful family, I have a roof, a car, I have people who care, I have food to sustain me - I have life. And I shouldn't take any of it for granted. People have died for much less.

That's not a novel thought. How often have we heard, "Don't take things in life for granted - they could be gone tomorrow." But Mike offered me a new way of approaching that ancient piece of advice, and I am grateful for that. I am appreciative.

So, a new year's resolution of sorts: to ask myself, at least once every day, "Why am I in this moment? What have I done to deserve to be here, with this, right now?" Hopefully that brief reflection will remind me that though at times the world seems heavy, the stress is high, and my problems seem endless - those problems do actually end - at least, luckily, for me. For everything I have, for all that I am able, I should be grateful - and I should pay it forward.

The good life

This summer has been a whirlwind of events so far. Carol and Allison both got married in gorgeous ceremonies with love and friends and family all around them. Sheila graduated from high school (hooray!). And I had a great 4th of July.

That's today's entry - how awesome my July 4th weekend was. It was one of those moments, rather a series of moments, that was just so serene and fun and breathtaking that I felt compelled to write. And so I write.

After a seemingly endless summer of party planning and execution, I decided I needed a weekend at the beach before I left for my big trip. Lucky me that Ray has a beach house - and that it was open. We headed to Oak island, her and I accompanied by J.Moe, Poon, and Jimmy. We spent our first afternoon lounging at the beach, eventually getting in the water because it was too damn hot outside. The water. Was. Amazing. We grilled out, ate, napped, ate. J.Moe had to leave but the rest of us continued - eating, napping, etc.

That night, July 4th, we decided to head to the beach. Ray offered up the idea of biking down to the beach - hell, we had no idea she had bikes, so that right there coulda made our night. That was Sweet Moment #1. The four of us, best friends, biking down the strip towards the beach at 9pm. It was a cool 70-something degrees out, quiet, dark, and a bit breezy. We biked about 10 blocks to the public access point, using the headlights of the few passing cars to light our way. We were lucky to find the shore only sprinkled with people, and we quickly pushed our bikes to a sandy spot with no one around. We set up shop by the light of a cell phone - a blanket on the ground, held down at the corners by backpacks and shoes; a disposable grill in a small foil tray set up nearby with flames creeping from beneath the coals; fireworks placed in the sand, angled towards an ocean we could hardly see.

As we waited for the flames to die down, we lit 3-foot sparklers and pranced around in the sand like teenagers, waving our wands and lighting the air in front of us with spirals, ribbons, and hearts. We lit Roman Candles and shot them in different directions, capturing it with a long exposure time on Jimmy's camera. Eventually, the mini-grill was hot and ready, and we rolled marshmallows around until they were gooey and s'more-ready. We stuffed our faces with dark chocolate, cinnamon graham s'mores until we just couldn't anymore. Then we shot off more fireworks, lightheartedly competing with others down the beach whose purchase of fireworks was far superior to ours - we didn't care. We lit the soft waves with our reds and greens and blues, as the fireworks glittered over the water. Our own dark Eden.

And then at some point during all that fun, someone happened to look up and just stopped. We all followed suit and what we saw was breathtaking - and endless sea of stars. There were no clouds, no moon, and no bright pollution from the shore. Just stars. It seemed so unreal, something so unattainable that the only place I'd ever seen anything like it was in a planetarium. I got giddy looking at them, even started to count. I scoured the sky for shooting stars to wish on, eventually just laying back and soaking in the scene without asking for more than what was in front of me. It was beautiful. It was a moment. It was a night full of moments culminating in that one spectacular view. And it was wonderful.

In fact, I fell asleep. Seems a little odd, falling asleep in that moment but it felt amazing. Lying back in the sand, somehow shaking my very real fear of crabs crawling from up underneath me, and letting the stars, that actually twinkled, lull me to sleep.

Eventually when we woke up, we gathered our things and biked back to the house. A perfect ending. We woke up lazily the next morning and headed back for one last hoorah at the beach. We laid in the sand till the heat was too much to bare, then rode the waves until we finally dragged ourselves out. Then we came home.

And all I can think about is how wonderful that night was. Spent with some of my greatest friends, on a perfect night, having perfect fun. We decided to make it a tradition. I hope that takes hold - I love them all dearly.

The next step in life

Just a quick post.

Last week I went to Allison's last dress fitting for her wedding gown. It was the first time in months that I had been able to do wedding stuff with her. I helped a tad on invitations, save-the-dates, etc., but I haven't been able to do much. I feel bad about that - sometimes even annoyed. Annoyed that my intense relationship with school had me resenting people who had time for other things, things I didn't have the time to be a part of. Kinda sucks, right?

Nonetheless, I finally got to go with Al to her dress fitting, just me and her. The dress was more beautiful than I remembered, and she looked stunning in it. I felt honored just to be there helping her into it, tying her bustle, giving my opinion that probably shouldn't mean much but is actually worth something to my best friend. I'm not sure if she saw me, but I definitely had a few tears caught in my lashes. I stared at her through the mirror and all I could manage to say was, "God - we have known each other a really long time." It will be our 12-year anniversary on her birthday this August, she informed me.

I love and adore that girl. She is one of my oldest friends, and this coming year will be the first time in five that we will not be living together. It is sad to think about, but I am slowly coming to terms with the fact that mine and Al's lives are finally taking their different paths. We've been going down the same road for so long, and that's all changing now. It is, for me at least, an adjustment. But I still do, and will always, love the girl I met on the first day of 6th grade, and the woman she has grown into.

Man. I am so going to cry at her wedding.