Life Preservers

Two days ago, I walked out of Fitzrandolph Gate a Princeton alum, packed everything I own in the world, and moved into my friend Bronson’s apartment in Brooklyn. Reunions, Baccalaureate, Class Day and Commencement all went by in a huge blur of processions and recessions, speeches and celebrations, tears and beer. I’m not exactly sure how I’m supposed to feel. I guess the word “empty” comes to mind.

My identity has so long been steeped in my status as an university student that I don’t really know who I am right now. Pentagram intern? Brooklyn resident? Recent college grad? I feel unready to assume any of those labels.

The most difficult aspect about this transition is that I am undertaking it without those people who are closest to me. This city feels in some ways too big and too lonely without their company. Saying goodbye to loved ones has always been difficult for me. I feel as though some crucial part of me has been untimely removed only to be replaced by a future as yet unknown.

Opening my diplomas after Commencement, taken by my close friend Angela

I am encouraged, however, by these thoughts that Katie Couric imparted in her moving Class Day address: “When I left the safe confines of NBC News, a friend wrote me a note that said, ‘Boats are always safe in the harbor. But that’s not what boats are built for.’ So sail away, even if the waters are choppy and the territory uncharted…you’ll be amazed at what you learn about the world and about yourself, and through it all, cherish the handful of people you can always depend on to throw you a life preserver when you need it the most. And don’t forget to wear sunscreen.”

For whatever reason, my life has veered very far off the path that I imagined myself taking after graduation. As recently as last year, I thought of myself as a future lawyer — someone my parents could count on to support them. Now, I find myself wondering whether I’ll ever be able to afford my own home, and whether this choice of career is indeed the most prodigious one given my family’s financial situation. My parents have not been employed since 2001, and my younger brother is just starting college this fall. I can’t imagine that it’s been easy for them to accept that I have strayed so far from law school, but they have learned to accept it nonetheless.

The Great Class of 2009 at Blair Hall, taken by Waqas Jawaid

Over the last few years, I’ve learned that I have a hard time sitting still and doing nothing. This, I suppose, translates to huge amounts of anxiety during times of transition. Fear looms large in my mind that I am not sufficiently prepared for experiences to come. I can’t help thinking that all the other interns at Pentagram will have been all-stars at their respective design schools and that I will prove a disappointment to the designer I admire most.

This propensity for fear-induced anxiety is what prompted me to start studying, and subsequently, to start teaching yoga. I began taking yoga classes at about the same time I worked on my first website. Yoga has always been for me a refuge from the unshakable worries that otherwise seem to occupy my impatient mind. I am not a person at peace, but yoga moves me in the right direction. In fact, I spent a summer in India studying it two years ago, which has informed my approach to life ever since.

With my friend Karen, who flew all the way from LA to see me graduate

Since then, I’ve taught a weekly class at Princeton but have largely neglected my own practice. I feel like I lost a lot of physical and emotional fitness during my senior year, mostly from thesis and future-related stress. Yesterday, I went to the Sivananda Vedanta Center located a few blocks from Pentagram and took a complimentary first class. It was an incredibly refreshing experience, and I plan on going as regularly as I can, even though the cost is not insignificant. There are some things that are just worth it.

In some ways, I’ve always understood that the life well-lived is one pursued in accordance with a commitment to self-honesty. This has made me rather introverted and self-critical, but lately, it’s also fueled a considerable amount of confidence. I’ve started to figure out that I am most happy when I am pursuing the passions that matter to me. My friends have done much to teach me this.

Jessica Helfand posted an open letter this morning on Design Observer to students seeking advice on how to deal with the uncertainty of the future. Her words are comforting and wise: “Your education will not end the day you graduate: on the contrary, what you’re doing is learning how to learn, and how to think, and how to visualize the ideas that percolate in your brain. So here’s what you do: never stop thinking. Never stop asking questions. Never, never stop reading, looking, imagining what else can be done. And don’t be afraid to start small. You’ll get there, eventually.”

“Some people come into our lives and quickly go. Some stay for a while, leave footprints on our hearts, and we are never, ever the same.”

On Class Day, I received the Lisa N. Bryant ’93 Award from the Department of Sociology for “strong commitment to the welfare of others and an application of sociological knowledge to the analysis of social needs,” as exemplified in the life of the award’s namesake. Lisa Bryant graduated from Princeton with highest honors in 1993. A month later, Lisa was brutally murdered upon resisting a rape attempt by an officer senior to her while serving at an ROTC camp. Lisa’s parents were on hand to present the award, and their grief was palpable as they explained the tragic story behind it.

I was incredibly moved by their explanation that the award represents the lasting legacy of Lisa’s commitment to public service. In particular, they believe that ties to the Princeton family are indissoluble and that a spirit of selfless charity maintains those ties. I don’t know whether I will ever live up to the Lisa’s legacy. I am certain that I do not yet deserve the award and that I will have to work hard to imbue my actions with the qualities it honors.

I am grateful for the family and friends that have helped to prepare me for this next phase of life. Their confidence and compassion has made me the person I am. Without them, I would never have made it this far. They are my life preservers. And I hope that I will make them proud each and every day.