Mediocrity

When I was in 9th grade my Geography teacher gave us a heart to heart about mediocrity. She told us a story about a date she once went on. On this date they went lobster fishing. She stated once they caught a lobster they would put it in a bucket and it would try to get out, but as soon as they caught several lobsters they couldn't escape. She went on to explain how every time one of the lobsters tried to climb out of the bucket the others would pull it back down. The moral of this heart to heart was whether or not you were going to allow those around you to pull you down or if you were going to continue to climb. I remember leaving this class period being so motivated, telling myself I was always going to be the one to rise above.

As I've grown up and been in different situations I've realized how hard it is to rise above and how simply wanting to isn't enough. We are taught to dream big and that we can accomplish anything we set our minds, but what people fail to mention is the thing that always seems to get in the way - reality. Just like the story taught, it is nearly impossible to rise above and be more than mediocre when those around you are pulling you down. I've learned how exhausting it can be and how after awhile you give up. You get tired of climbing, rising, only to be dragged back down.

Striving to rise above is an admirable aspiration, but like a lot of things fear stops people from achieving it. I've realized it isn't necessarily the fear of rising above that stops people it is the fear of all the crap you have to go through to get there. No wonder being mediocre is enough.

The Dash

On your tombstone you’ve got your birth date and the date of your death. In between those two dates is the little dash – that’s your life – everything from the time you were born to the time you die. The question is – how are you going to live your dash?

I was introduced to this idea while watching a documentary. At the time this idea blew my mind, granted it was three in the morning. I started to really think about this and the more I thought the more blown away I was by this concept. When we look at someone’s grave we don’t even think about what the dash means. It’s your whole life in one little line – what you accomplished and who you were.

The Dash Poem 

Linda Ellis 

I read of a man who stood to speak

At the funeral of a friend.

He referred to the dates on her tombstone

From the beginning to the end.

He noted that first came the date of her birth

And spoke of the following date with tears, 

But he said what mattered most of all

Was the dash between those years.

For that dash represents all the time

That she spent alive on earth 

And now only those who loved her

Know what that little line is worth.

For it matters not, how much we own,

The cars, the house, the cash, 

What matters is how we live and love

And how we spend our dash.

So think about this long and hard;

Are there things you'd like to change?

For you never know how much time is left 

That can still be rearranged.

If we could just slow down enough

To consider what's true and real

And always try to understand

The way other people feel.

And be less quick to anger

And show appreciation more

And love the people in our lives 

Like we've never loved before

If we treat each other with respect

And more often wear a smile, 

Remembering that this special dash

Might only last a little while.

So when your eulogy is being read 

With your life's actions to rehash

Would you be proud of the things they say

About how you spent your dash? 

It's interesting to think about. I've probably over analyzed this concept to the extreme, but I guess that's what happens on a graveyard shift. 

My Near-Death Whatever

A year ago today I experienced a miracle. This wasn't just a small everyday miracle, it was a huge miracle.

I was on my way to a hair appointment in Payson. I was in the fast lane and didn't feel the car in front of me was going fast enough so I made the (horrible) decision to move into the carpool lane, just for a minute. I thought I had looked, but as soon as I made my way into the other lane someone honked at me and I swerved back into the fast lane. Unfortunately, there was already someone in the other lane who then honked. Swerving again resulted in over correcting and spinning. The whole situation was very slow motion, I thought about my mom, my sister, my friends. I thought about how at least I got to see the BSB Concert the weekend before. As I was making my 1.5 turn I saw the semi. I knew I was going to hit the semi and there was nothing I could do about it. I tried to lean my body into the seat as much as I could, you know, like you do on roller coasters and braced for impact. As soon as I hit the semi I was thrown back into the carpool lane where I spun a couple more times before my car finally stopped.

Not only was it a miracle that I was alive, but that I only suffered minor injuries. Poor Molly (my car) wasn't so lucky. While I had had many issues with her breaking down she stepped up that day, took one for the team, and saved my life. 

Also, shout out to Michael Jackson! I was listening to Man in the Mirror during the crash, therefore, I'm pretty sure MJ also saved my life. 

My near-death whatever really opened my eyes to how quickly everything can change. Life is crazy is like that. Carpe Diem/YOLO/live life to the fullest, because you never know when your last day will be your last. 

Dear Oma,

Today, on your birthday I am overwhelmed with the love and memories we share. Not a day goes by that I don’t think of you and wish I had more time. I guess that’s the cliché surrounding death, wishing we had just one more day to spend with the person we've lost. You said it best in a letter to Lily:

“Our hearts are ripped open and bleed. We mortals don’t know what to do with the pain of separation and as we try to grasp the enormity of it we are quickly surrounded by family and close friends who seem, in some wonderful way to help us begin to accept which must be accepted.”

Losing you has been one of the hardest things I've ever been through. I've watched as our family has grieved your immense loss and the thing that strikes me most is how much you’re loved. Grandpa especially loves you and watching him deal with this grief has been heartbreaking. The love he has for you is admirable and something I can only dream of having someday. I've watched as my mother has dealt with this loss, knowing there’s nothing I can do to ease her pain. I've watched Ellie as she’s tried to comprehend what changes your loss will bring.  

You taught me so much, Grandma. Such as the importance of family, being there for people in need, and blue eye shadow. The traditions you passed on are also something I will always treasure. Your loss often seems unbearable, but it’s through our traditions and memories your legacy lives on.

Remember when I had to have my kidney biopsy and you were there every step of the way? You let me take the temperature of your eye while we waited, you pushed me in my giant stroller, and you made me a scrapbook to remember it all. You were there for me in some of the biggest moments of my life: the loss of Lily, the endless trips to Primary Children’s, Ellie’s birth, and my parents’ divorce. While we didn't always see eye to eye, I knew I could always count on you. 

I miss you every day and often find myself regretting the time I took for granted. Thanks for everything Grandma – for always being the person I could turn to in times of need, inspiring me to be the very best me, and loving me despite all my flaws.

I love you to the moon and back,

Zoe