"You were there for me, and I was there for you."
By Austin Murphy
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| Photo Credit: Fletcher Krawczuk |
As a musical person, it surprises me that I have yet to actually correlate these posts to specific songs. At some point I will try to figure out how to add an mp3 player to each individual blog update. With that being said, my recommendation is that you listen to "Let You Go" by the Chainsmokers and "Untouchable" by Cash Cash while reading this today.
I suppose it is fitting to feel older and wiser, after all January is named for Janus--the Roman god of time and transitions (credit goes to Brandon Gillespie for bringing this to my attention). I celebrated my 24th birthday less than a week ago, and I have never felt more alive and excited.
During the week of Martin Luther King, Jr.'s birthday, I had an experience that drastically reshaped my perspective and made me understand my own mortality and fortune. I won't go into gruesome detail--1) because it is far more personal than a simple blog post, and 2) because the actual telling of the story would require far too much time and faith on behalf of the reader--but you should know that there are forces at work in this world that the human mind is not prepared to comprehend despite its complexity.
What I will divulge, however, is that the human mind is far more powerful than even the wisest can understand, and fear is rational and present in everyday life. While I feel safe and secure again, my experience took me far outside of anything and everything I have ever known.
I confronted fears that have harbored within my mind for years. I wrestled with my own fear of mortality. I came to terms with my fear of losing a home, brought on years ago by the division of my own family. And I finally let go of my fear of trusting people too much, allowing me to put an end to thoughts of missing someone who wronged me very seriously.
You don't betray the trust of someone who loves you.
Most importantly, perhaps, I put to rest my fear of acceptance. Since I was a young boy I have felt like an outsider in so many situations, but this isn't something that should be feared. Our lives unwind in unexpected ways, but they'll eventually lead you to the people you are meant to cherish and grow old with.
In confronting these fears, my mind journeyed through time and space and explored the very basis for existence and the history of the universe. I could have been lost forever, contemplating and fearing forces and fates greater than myself. Fortunately, I found my way back--in large part due to my passions (music, language, and science) and the memories instilled in my mind of friends and family and their loving faces.
And so I quote the little girl, Rosie, from Universal Studios' 1995 animated film "Balto":
"Thank you...I would have been lost without you."
I won't profess to understand every intricacy of the universe, for that is far too much information for one man to comprehend. I will, however, divulge a well-known secret that many people are already aware of: we need each other, and we must depend on one another for our survival.
Which brings me to another personal anecdote, one which I will divulge in its entirety. After moving to Santa Barbara, my previous residence charged me outrageous amounts of money for the state of my unit upon moving out. While some charges were legitimate, I disputed others that I found to be unreasonable and unfair.
Over the course of the ensuing months I corresponded back and forth with their bookkeeper, eventually settling upon a monthly payment plan that would put the issue to rest. During the past week, however, I learned that new employees had been assigned to my account, and they had not been brought up to speed about my payment plan.
I received a threatening, harassing letter from the "General Manager," informing me that I would be sent to collections if I ignored their final settlement offer. I have communicated back and forth over the past week over email, attempting to explain my situation. My words fell upon deaf ears, however, as the GM has elected to treat me not as a person with actual feelings, but rather as an account to be closed out.
Admittedly, I have never attended business school nor taken a course in ethics, but I understand very well that people respond far better to manners, cordiality, and compassion than they do to threats and disdain. While I do intend to finalize my balance, my only request has been for the GM to apologize for the way I have been treated on behalf of the residence. Thus far, she has been unsympathetic, disrespectful, and unapologetic--and I am truly sorry for any future tenants who will have to deal with this woman in the future.
(She and the residence will remain nameless, because I am not so vindictive that I want to harm their business.)
I carry far too little concern to harbor ill feelings towards this woman, but she is portraying very well the apathy that pervades modern humanity. So many disputes and conflicts in life can be avoided if people possessed empathy and could extract themselves from their own self-concern and narcissism.
Experiences like the ones I have endured are not to be feared, but rather embraced as signs that you are learning more about yourself and this precious world. They serve as benchmarks and test, as totems and mementos that people are inherently good.
But most importantly, they serve as reminders. "Reminders of what?" you may ask. To this I answer: I don't know. It's different for everybody. For you it could be a reminder of the first time you met your best friend or your personal hero, and for another it could be a reminder of the first time he or she farted in front of a significant other or ate Thai food.
For me, it's a reminder that it's okay to let go of some people and grudges, and it's okay to let new people into your life--people you can trust. And the memory can be brought forth just by looking into someone's eyes, wherein you'll find an implicit understanding of goodwill, benevolence, and love.
For me, I'm reminded of a feeling I haven't felt in a long time, of a person I haven't seen in what feels like forever--but I'm ready to let the past go and move forward with the truest optimism and surefire determination. We were not made to walk this world alone, and I'm ready to set my sails again and let the wind guide me into the bluest ocean of possibility and into the arms of whoever I'm destined to find.
As Billy Joel once sang, "Honesty is such a lonely word." But while trust and compassion may be hard to find, they are quite easy to embrace. I'm writing this for a special, select group and for some of the most incredible people I've ever met. And I want you to know that I trust you with my life, and I will always be there for you.
It's paramount that we let our friends and family know how important they are to us. And so I say to all who have been there for me when I needed them--and in Swedish, no less, because I learned these three words from a remarkable young lady who never fails to put a smile on my face...
Jag älskar dig.
© Austin T. Murphy 2016
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