“Why not”. Two syllables, one question, and a myriad of possibilities. To some, hearing these words may seem insignificant. For me, this simple question is incredibly powerful. It opens our minds to new ideas and cannot be asked enough. I believe that our words hold a tremendous amount of value. If they are thought-provoking, that value is immeasurable.
When our thoughts are challenged and our mind is tested, we are forced to think creatively. It’s in these moments that the magic truly happens. This is when ideas are formed, when problems are solved, when inventions are created, when revolutions are started, and when progress is realized. Asking this question helps us accesses our full capabilities.
They encouraged us to participate in their debates and ask them questions whenever we needed clarification. Apart from discussing the day’s affairs, dinner was often a time to present us with short lessons or teach us about whatever life had in store for us.
Any chance they got they would find a way to translate the issues they were dealing with into a version that we could relate to. While math and science were handled at school, I learned more about taxes, investments, philosophy, and life in general at the kitchen table than I did in any classroom.
One of the most influential lessons I learned during these talks was the importance of the phrase “why not.” A graduate of Cornell, MIT, and North Carolina State University, my father has received some of the best education this country has to offer. He first presented the wonder behind the phrase “why not” to me about ten years ago. After discussing one of my older brother’s psychology projects, my dad digressed a bit to recall one of the more memorable lessons he learned as an undergrad.
He began to tell us about one of the philosophy tests he took while attending Cornell. Like most of the tests he took in this class, this one was a short answer format. It had a series of essay questions, of which only one had to be answered. Among the possible problems was the shortest test question I’ve ever heard of, “Why?”
I couldn’t understand how a teacher could grade students on their response to such a vague question that seemingly had no definite answer (college has helped me grow a little more accustomed to such practices by professors). Sensing my confusion, my father continued the lesson by leaning towards me to ask, “What would you have written?” Determined to come up with the correct answer, my mind began racing through every possible answer.
After a few frantic moments, I accepted that my efforts were to no avail. I couldn’t wrap my head around what the question was asking. The question “Why what?” kept popping into my head. My only explanation was that it needed more clarification.
Defeated, I admitted that I was stumped and asked my dad what he had written. My father laughed and said that he had left it blank too. Out of thirty some odd students, only one had attempted to answer that question, and they did so in less than a minute. As you may have guessed, this student simply wrote down “Why not?”
Again I was shocked. But this time I was happy about it. At first it was only because I loved how bold the idea of walking out of a test after writing two words sounded. But as I thought more about it, I began to realize how incredible the response was and why my dad had told us that story. Although I didn’t fully understand the magnitude behind “why not” at the time, there were two aspects of the answer that really stood out to me.
The first was how profound it was. It’s not that it was particularly hard to grasp, it was just something I’d never given much thought to. Responding with “why not?” can be both a question and a challenge to authority. This becomes incredibly powerful when it is used to reject a conventional thought to explore new ideas.
The Wright Brothers said “why not?” when people told them it wasn’t possible to fly, Roger Bannister thought “why not?” when everyone said humans couldn’t run a four minute mile, and Steve Jobs didn’t hesitate to ask “why not?” when he was told he wouldn’t be able to compete with Microsoft. At some point, every great innovator starts with the simple question “why not?”
The second aspect that stood out was its simplicity. After I realized the depth behind the response, I was immediately impressed by how effortless it was to get there. But the more I thought about it, the more it just made sense. Why should we always accept what is presented to us? Why shouldn’t we ask for more? Why not?
At that point in my life, this was probably the greatest philosophical understanding I’d experienced. The fact that it had only taken an exchange of three words to get there was remarkable to me. My whole academic career, the value in the answers had progressed linearly with the complexity of the problems and the methods to get there. But this disregarded that rule. “Simple is beautiful”. I’d heard it before, but I hadn’t truly appreciated it until then.
The end of my fall semester marked a major transitional period in my life. Despite my performance in my classes, I was no longer interested in pursuing an engineering career. At the same time, I decided to step away from an Internet marketing business that I had spent well over a year building. On top of all this, my soccer career came to an end, a moment almost 18 years in the making. Seemingly overnight, my schedule changed drastically. At one point I was actually confused by the amount of free time I had. There was a massive void in my life to say the least.
After a few weeks of growing restless and not knowing what to do with myself, the remedy to my situation presented itself to me. While working on a problem set, one of my good friends Nick told me there was a small MMA club at our school and that he’d recently attended one of their training sessions. Thinking I might be interested in joining, he asked me if I wanted to go with him the next time he went. At the time I didn’t know much about MMA, but I knew it was a great way to stay in shape, so I said, “sure, why not.” Flash-forward to the following weekend.
The leader of the group, Sean had about 40 pounds on me and grew up learning Maui Thai. He takes personal ownership in not only training the club, but also in breaking in each new member to gauge their skillset. Needless to say I was a little concerned going into this fight. Fortunately I didn’t have much time to think about what might happen before the stopwatch started counting down.
Sean obviously held back and I actually landed a few good punches, but I got absolutely worked for three minutes. If I had to guess, watching that fight was probably similar to watching a dog chase a laser pointer, a good mix of comical and hopeless.
The next day I was in a world of hurt, but a beautiful thing had happened the day before. For those of you that have never fought, the first time you take a good strong punch is an eye-opening experience. At first you’re in a state of shock and panic. You can feel your nervous system trying to frantically figure out what’s going on. But the fight’s not over and you have to continue to deal with the next combination. Eventually you get used to it. When this happens, when your body finally adjusts to the concept of getting hit, your fear escapes you.
The only way to conquer your fear and to grow as a person is to get out of your comfort zone and to face whatever fears are holding you back.
After Sean’s first two punches, my brain had accepted that I could survive getting hit. It was a surreal feeling and it all stemmed from the question “why not?” That experience was a gentle reminder of just how important that question is to me.
From then on I took it upon myself to embrace those two words again. In doing so, I’ve beyond filled the void that once existed. Over the past few months I’ve done more than I ever imagined. I went snowboarding for the first time, I took up rock climbing, I took a ballroom dancing class, I became a weekday vegetarian, I found an internship outside of my major, I went off-roading at 6,500 ft., met Jay-Z, worked out with a Victoria’s Secret model, and had a cook-off with a world renowned chef.
I beat the house gambling, I explored Lake Tahoe, I played soccer in the U.S. Open Cup, I went bridge jumping, I back-flipped out of an airplane, I gave a speech in front of 400 people, I began teaching myself how to play the guitar, I rode some of the highest, fastest rollercoasters in the world, I began collaborating on a smartphone app, I raised money for a volunteer trip in Kenya, I became a licensed Realtor, and I wrote a published article. In the same time I’ve traveled to seven states and six major U.S. cities. Within the next two months I will travel to two more continents.
While none of these events are anything to marvel at, they are all things that many people, including me, long to experience. Unfortunately, they are also things that the same people often allow themselves not to experience. The only reason I ended up doing them is not because I’m some amazing human being (I can promise you I’m no different than the average Joe on the street), it’s because I made a conscious decision to ask myself “why not?” That’s it. That’s all it takes.
My challenge for you is to remember those two words. Ask yourself “why not?” as much as you can. Ask “why can’t we do this?” and “why shouldn’t I experience that?” This is not a call to spontaneity, or a request to blindly say yes to every opportunity that presents itself. It’s simply a matter of considering all of the options that are in front of you before you make your decision. There’s nothing to lose, and in my experience, there’s an incredible amount to be gained. So why not try it?
I think every girl at one point in their life comes to the realization that they’ve become like their mother. Most people meet this realization, however, with much hesitation and anguish. Many resent the idea of becoming like their mothers. While I’m only 18, I realize I have become my mother and wish I was even more so. This is for you, Mom. Thank you for all the things you passed to me, but especially for all the things you didn’t.
Thank you for teaching me to take everything with a grain of salt, and not to read into the situation too much (even when you really want to). I’ll always be grateful that you made me a fighter instead of a follower. Thank you for teaching me to go after my dreams, and for never questioning your daughter’s future plans, especially as a broadcast major. Thank you for letting me know that if these plans don’t end up working out, you’ll support me every step of the way.
Thank you for being my friend when I need it, but always being my mom (you know what I mean). Thank you for proofreading every paper, for making me work hard, and telling me to stop worrying about my grades so much.
Mom, I wish I could have your sense of humor. I strive every single day to carry myself with the confidence that you do. I love that you’re always the life of the party, and I love that you know how to have fun.
I wish I could have your knack for reading people, and wish I could cook like you. You’ll never understand how highly I think of you, and how much I wish to be just like you, even though I already am somewhat.
While this entire post may seem cliché, and everyone may swear their mom is the best, I know that my mom and I have something uniquely special that absolutely cannot be replaced.
So, Mom, I’m sorry I’m so messy. I’m sorry that I can be a little too feisty, and that I am incredibly stubborn. You always know when I’m hungry, and thanks for always having snacks ready when I am. I may be an adult know, but I for sure don’t know what I’m doing, and will forever need you around. Thank you for these things, and for everything else that I could not even manage to write into this post.
They always say “try to give your kids more than your parents gave to you.” Every time me and my brother hear this, we laugh because we know that will never be possible for us when we have children someday. I only hope one day when I become a mother I can be half the person that you are, and I am proud to say that I’ve become anything like my mom.
Thanks for being my person, Mom. Like you always told us when we were little, “I love you forever, I’ll like you for always, as long as I’m living, your mom I will be.”
How far the apple falls…
Are we doomed to relive our parents’ mistakes?
You are your mother’s daughter.
Many of us have heard these sayings in regards to similarities between our parents and ourselves, whether it is a striking physical resemblance, similar likes or dislikes, or similar personality traits. But to someone who is haunted by the actions or flaws of his or her parents, what could this mean?
And when we see our parents taking part in the negative influences of the world, we are deeply affected. Society says our parents are supposed to be our heroes, and provide a perfect example of how we can live our own lives. We are supposed to want to be like them. But what happens when they’re not good examples? What happens if they’re actually the opposite, and are the cause of strife and sadness in our lives?
The truth is that for many of us being like our parents is our worst nightmare. The weight of the possibility of repeating the mistakes of our parents seems daunting when we think about the example they set for us and the role genetics play. Scientists say that our personalities are composed by 50 percent genetic influences and 50 percent social influences. That may seem like pretty good chances to some optimists depending on a healthy social environment, but could also be a complete shot in the dark.
The daughter of an alcoholic, she grew up in a sad home, and later became a depressed woman stuck in a loveless marriage struggling with her own addiction. Consequently, as a constant reminder of her failures in life, she took her struggles and imperfections out on me.
Eventually she told me she wished she never had me and our relationship progressed over the years into constant fighting and bitterness.
My father in addition was victim to many of my mother’s violent tendencies, and I watched them fight nearly every day of my childhood. My father was peaceful and passive, always singing and giving hugs. Consequently, I grew very close to him, and was always on his side during an argument. He was nearly perfect in my eyes, until one day I discovered the sad truth of his secret life.
He had been having a gay affair.
I felt as though he had completely deserted me, my family, and anything he had ever taught me in life. However, what disappointed me the most was that he was my example. He was the one I was I was supposed to look up to.
Now, I’ve been told repeatedly just how strong the correlation is between alcoholism and heredity. I’ve been told repeatedly that 50 percent of marriages end in divorce, many of those resulting from affairs, and children from what people have labeled “broken homes” are even more likely to end up with failed marriages just like their parents.
Yes, it is something that I will always have in the back of my mind as I choose to socially drink or choose a spouse, but it is not what regulates my life. Instead, I choose to focus on the ways in which I have been set free from these chains or restrictions in life.
Scientifically, I have been given 50 percent of my personality to factors other than genetics or heredity, and that is the 50 percent I choose to focus on. 50 percent of my personality is my environment: my choices, my social interactions, and my decisions. More importantly, I have been given a savior to overcome worldly addictions, failures, and anxiety.
There has been a man who has already fought the battle for me, and has freed me from ever having to fight this battle on Earth alone. Simply knowing that Jesus has already fought the battle and overcome the world (and everything terrible in it) reminds me that the war has already been won. Because I know that I have a savior and the price has been paid. My destiny is already been set for me.
And because He is good, I know that it is looking bright.
I remember my first Picture day ever. I was 5 years old and my mom dressed me in this bright, flowery shirt that I absolutely hated. I threw a tantrum! I despised that shirt, but I wore it anyways. By the end of the day, I remember all of my teachers and friends telling me that they liked my shirt a lot. My picture looked amazing and it was all because my mom, the one who knows what is best for me, told me to wear it.
All of the students came in with their parents and stood in line for the first bell of the school year to ring. My mom, the minute the school bell rang, kissed me on the cheek before she left. I pulled my face away out of embarrassment. She did not say anything, and smiled at me. Because my mom, the one who loves me unconditionally, knew how I felt before I even understood why I had done it.
Her face lit up with excitement and joy that even I had not felt for myself. I remember her coming to every one of my concerts even if she had to cancel plans for them. Because my mom, the one who makes daily sacrifices to see her son grow, wanted to see me excel at something I loved.
I came home in such fear. My mom looked at the test and she was MAD. I was so scared that I ran into my room and locked the door. I began to pray and tear up, I was so scared. Then I heard a knock on my door. Shakily, I opened it to see my mom. She sat me down and explained to me why she got so mad. Because my mom, the one who wants nothing but the best for me, should expect the best from me as well.
Even now, I don’t understand why she does some things. But my mom has her reasons. Every time she freaks out whenever I drive to Every time she screams out of frustration when I don’t clean my room, I know she means well. I know she doesn’t want her 16 year old son to mess up in the future. Sometimes she can be the most annoying human on the planet, but I know that through all of the bad, she loves me. And I love you too Mom.
Happy Mother’s Day, you deserve it.
Mom… Mother…Ma…Amy… Amy Shay!
Well now that I have your attention, I can start. For one, I want to apologize that I’m not there with you today. I’m sorry my finals schedule sucks. BUT I promise I will make it up to you next week when we’re at the Biltmore. We’re not going four or so months without seeing each other again. It has been too long and I don’t like it.
I could thank you.
I could say how much you inspire me to do better.
I could say how you’re able to pick me up from hundreds of miles away.
I could say how much I love that we can spend all day on the beach doing nothing.
I could say how grateful I am that we have such a good relationship because I know some of my friends don’t.
I could say how much I can’t wait to spend the better part of three weeks with you.
I hope you know all that you have done for me, which I wouldn’t have enough lifetimes to make up for. I can only hope I can be as good of a mom as you are to the kids I have one day. I hope you Alex, Dad, and Rosie have a lovely relaxing day because you deserve that and so much more. I love you mom and I can’t wait to see you.
Love,
Ashleigh
Her name was JuJu. A nickname from childhood that her dad had called her before he passed away. Juju was one of my campers in the Yellow unit of nine to eleven year olds and was a natural born leader.
She was only in elementary school, but carried herself as an outgoing young adult with a passion to create a brighter world through creativity and joy. I met Juju at Camp Kesem last summer. Camp Kesem is a place where kids can find solace, support, and love from others who truly understand losing a parent from cancer.
But Camp is about finding light in dark situations and creating incredible friendships. At Camp when the sun goes down and the campers are all in their pajamas, we have Cabin Chat. This is a time when counselors lead a discussion with a series of questions. The first couple questions are lighthearted, but eventually they become more serious throughout the week.
On one of the first days, we asked the girls in our cabin “What is the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?” I was expecting the girls to say something like “a rainbow!” or “my dog is beautiful,” but instead I was floored from the answers they provided. Juju’s answer is the most vivid in my memory.
The other counselors and I were curious. We let her continue, “The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen was when my dad passed away and he wasn’t hurting anymore. He was finally peaceful…I know he’s up in heaven now playing golf with my grandpa and catching up.” We were all speechless. What nine year old should be able to say that? I started thinking about how young she was and how mature I could never be at that age.
I mean nine years old and accepting that your life will go on knowing this? Feeling at peace that you know he’s safe and one with God? When I was nine, I was playing with Barbies and cried when butterflies accidentally hit our moving car. But here she was, this little girl with the biggest heart and a calm voice. I however, was not calm. Internally I was wrecked, bawling like a typical elementary schooler.
I teared up and looked around to the other counselors, only to see similar teary eyes looking back at me. As we nodded heads towards each other, it was like a wordless agreement between the counselors that we would not let our emotions interrupt this beautiful time and that our lives were forever changed. Juju was only one of the campers who became one of my role models and inspired me to become a bigger, better person.
It is incredible to be part of an organization that brings children and teens together to share this experience with and make each summer unforgettable. This summer, Camp Kesem is providing two weeks of camp so even more kids struggling with a parent’s cancer can finally be a kid again and college kids can find inspiration from 3rd graders. I joined Camp to change lives, but this summer, I can’t wait to see who will change mine.
Around the time I entered middle school, I began to resent my family and the town where I lived.
Naturally, a lot of this frustration came from the usual teen angst that most adolescents experience at some point. I knew there was something about my hometown Peachtree City that irked me. It was probably the closed-mindedness of this seemingly homogenous and wealthy town, which coincidentally seems to be the consensus of most people who grow up in Peachtree City. I also began to think that I had matured to a point that I didn’t need my parent’s emotional support in life anymore.
In my mind, I had gotten through enough challenges in life that if something happened to me, then I would be able to handle it myself. Also, my parents and I started to get tired of each other’s company; eighteen years seemed like enough time to spend with each other. I even decided to got to the Freshmen College Summer Experience, so I could get away from my family sooner.
My life seemed like it was under my control. No longer did I have to ask permission to go anywhere or could I be told to do chores. I was seemingly free and mature enough not to need my parents’ solace for my problems.
This mentality changed one day in November. One Friday night, I received a call from my mom telling me that a close, life-long friend of mine had committed suicide. I was shocked – I had never before dealt with something like that in my life. My mind felt like it was going to collapse. Up until that moment, I felt like I didn’t need any sort of emotional support from anyone, especially from my parents.
I even called my parents telling them I wanted to come home, but they seemed confused about why I would need to come home. I couldn’t even find the strength to tell my parents how I truly felt. A person who was my friend my whole life had taken his life, and I was in college by myself with no one else who knew him and couldn’t identify with my pain and grief.
The only thing I wanted was to hug my mom.
Although I wanted to go home, it was the week before Thanksgiving break and there were a lot of assignments due, and there was no way I could go home. I tried to bury my emotions because I felt insecure expressing them to other people, but that did not work. Instead, I had multiple mental breakdowns throughout the week because I could not handle the stress of dealing with both mourning his loss and completing my schoolwork.
I kept asking myself ‘how could my friend do such a horrible thing?’ but of course, there are some things we will never know. No one at the University of Georgia could really help me with grieving for my friend because no one here knew him very well. For the first time in a while, I really just needed my parents.