As an offering to recent graduates’ travel into adult life, I would like to share the strange and wonderful pieces of advice I’ve picked up from people along the way who are far wiser than I.
I once met a historian guiding ghost tours along the harbour in Victoria, B.C. At the time, I was trying to decide on my university major, and she gave me some advice I will never forget.
She said to pick the lens in which you want to see the world. Wherever she goes, she sees history – as if her degree settled like a gossamer veil over her mind. I chose a degree in writing, and now I see stories wherever I go – the cadence of narration is engrained in my brain like a gentle hum.
Ask yourself how you want to look at the world.
Try not to think of your dreams and ambitions in aesthetics, forget what you want it to look like for a moment - and think of how you want it to feel.
All this graduation talk of chasing your dreams merits a compass – and we all have an internal one. It’s that feeling of wind through your heart, it’s the ‘no’ that roots your feet to the ground, it’s the way your eyes keep returning to something. It’s the small voices and gut feelings.
Notice yourself deeply.
In the words of poet Mary Oliver, “Let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.” I used to think that line was about hedonism, about eating chocolate and acting on impulse, but now I understand it to be more about responding to the longing of your authenticity.
Be mindful of your instincts so you end up with a life that sets your soul on fire, not just one that looks good on Instagram.
I once found myself in the hospital with a shattered left arm after falling off a horse at work. My body was worn out and I was exhausted. My boss at the time sat with me and did Reiki on my arm, stroking the air above it like she was petting a cat.
“How wonderful,” she said. Life was insisting on a new path. Think of the possibilities.
Finding myself suddenly unemployed and broken felt like the furthest thing from an opportunity, but the thought crossed my mind, “Well, it’s not my writing hand that’s broken. Maybe I’ll apply to university.” And here I am.
Elizabeth Gilbert describes her creative process as a collaboration with the universe, as if all the curious forces of the world want to play along with us. Suppose they do.
Attune to the synchronicities, the opportunities, the coincidences, and the serendipity of life. You will find the most unexpected joy by allowing the universe to nudge you in a new direction. Stay curious and receptive.
Having graduated by the skin of my teeth, I remember the riptide of relief and the ravenous feeling I had for the world. Know that I see you in your flurry of emotions and I wish you all the best.
