Disclaimer: The following is an article celebrating the joy and beauty of the natural world, and it's not funny, and it doesn't have any information about the BOC trips. So everyone but my mom can pick a new article if they want. And if you want to find out about BOC trips check the calendar online. Cool.
This past weekend my roommates and I recovered from a ripping hangover by watching the third and final part of David Attenborough's incredible documentary The Life of Mammals. Attenborough, a good-hearted English gentleman, travels to the extremes of the earth perpetually clad in khakis and a blue polo shirt, looking at some of the most beautiful, most amazing mammals on Earth.
I found myself completely transported by the variety and beauty of life and I even began to fantasize that someday I could have a job (and indeed a life) like Attenborough's: traveling the planet, being a British fancy-pants, and mispronouncing all sorts of words like "defecate," which he says with a long "e"-deefecate.
While my headache slowly receded as I drank sludgy coffee, an Attenborough dogsledded to the Antarctic to look at penguins, then ascended high into the canopy of the Amazon rainforest to commune with monkeys, and lastly donned a drysuit over his khakis and blue polo shirt and dove into the ocean to chill with otters.
What an amazing life, and what a lucky guy. However, what David Attenborough does isn't all that different than what we should all be doing-trying to appreciate the wonder and beauty of our surroundings and to live harmoniously with them. Don't worry, this article isn't another rant about not doing your work and coming on BOC trips-I have spent the last week in the library and probably will have to spend another one there.
All that I am trying to say in this article is that, especially for the seniors, this could be our last spring in Maine. I am heading back to Washington State after graduation, and I know that many of us are scattering to various places across the country (indeed, the world). This could be our last chance to witness, in this unique, specific place, the miracle of sun and seed, of changing seasons and the promise of new life.
Perhaps it is the prospect of graduation that is making me sentimental, or the knowledge that I don't have a job and am most likely going to be spending a lot of time sleeping outside (i.e. living on the street). For whatever reason, I realized a few days ago that we have a finite number of seasons left in our lives, and what we are to do with them is our choice.
In this last month of college, I am desperate for perspective: what can I do with myself so that I can look back on my seasons with a feeling of accomplishment-the sense that I haven't wasted my time in a joyless job or squandered it in selfish pleasures? I don't know the answer, but I am more and more certain that it hinges on the day-to-day joys-friendships, cigarettes, service, sun, love, and everything else that makes life glorious and complicated. The spring is here, so let's not waste it.