You may believe it difficult for a 23-year-old to see the bigger picture.
Let me set the stage for how everything is personally put into perspective for me. I spent three hours in the backseat of a taxi, completely unable to communicate with the driver besides providing my destination. The ride is twenty minutes with no traffic in an American city, but two and a half hours in Friday night traffic in Rio. I watch out the window, taking in the construction areas that probably have no completion date in sight. Motorcycles are the only thing moving at a faster pace than I can walk. They honk incessantly, letting drivers know that they intend to make their own path. Twelve-year-olds stand on the side of the highway selling water & Globo (it tastes like a styrofoam block).
Politicians have their faces & voting number pasted on every available surface to accommodate the population for the upcoming election. I see what passes for housing and simply cannot imagine what it would be like to call these tin shacks “home.” I see thousands of lights speckled along the hillside and wonder what kind of people reside in the favelas. I assume that while some are up to no good (drug lords and such), I also imagine that there are girls my age, trying to find a way out. I peer into other peoples’ cars and fill in their life story. I know they see me and label me as a privileged American, and they’re right. I may not recognize it on the spot, but there is one remarkable moment when I am made completely aware of just lucky I am, how lucky we all (all as in people, not just Americans) are.
I have a window seat on the overnight flight. I cup my hands around my eyes and stick my nose to the cold glass. The view is indescribable. The sky is like black velvet, illuminated by thousands of twinkling lights, and I am among them. I know if I am patient I will see it. A single star shoots across my vision and absolute contentment washes over me. I look at all of the people around me and am tempted to wake everyone up and tell them to look outside.
At the end of the day, no matter the cause, all stress is felt the same. The moments that force us to look outside of ourselves need to be recognized. What’s more, is that they need to be sought after. They vary from person to person but are most often simple in nature. Actually, they are most often found in nature. Sunrises and sunsets, wind in a field, the power of an ocean wave, the first snow that sticks, lightning that strikes fear and wonder, and the Grand Canyon have all been known to bring that “I am ever powerful, yet alarmingly small” feeling to us.
What is discomforting to me is that only half an hour later we are consumed by our first world concerns. This only confirms that we are flawed, but also stresses the need to search for more. That isn’t the first shooting star I’ve seen from 50,000 feet and it surely won’t be the last. I may be exhausted and slightly irritable from traveling, but more than that, I am incredibly thankful to have the chance to do so. I am alive and life is good.
