My Dig

I remember one time when I was digging to find myself.  I barely graduated from high school and squeezed into a college. I became overwhelmed and intimidated by my dyslexia and my seventh grade reading level at the age of 19.  I believed my street smarts could get me further than my book smarts, so I dropped out of college and used whichever “smarts” I had. I attempted to use all the “smarts” I possessed in the streets to prove I made the right choice.  For the next two years, I proved something to myself in the end. I proved that I could wind up in jail or dead if I did not start digging to find myself. Perhaps, I may have learned these lessons elsewhere, but sometimes in life, we don't know when we are sitting in a classroom at the greatest school.  I learned that I needed to truly find myself if I wanted to be happier and grow.

The next school was Marymount Collage, a small junior college out west that opened its doors and gave me a second chance. I accumulated as much money as I could find, applied for a loan, and received a bit of help from my parents. Nothing came easy as I tried to find myself, but I did my best to swallow my struggles, constantly feeling as if my suffering was the price I needed to pay for not being honest to others and, most importantly, myself.

I had to dig past my attachment to the money and time I invested into crime. I would rise before the sun in order to dig in complete silence.  I had to dig through many classes and only receive credit for a few because I was so far behind.  I had to dig from school to school, city to city, to find the right place in New York at NYU where I attended class from 10:00am to 3:00pm, sweated through basketball practice from 4:00pm to 7:00pm, and tirelessly struggled as a janitor from 8:00pm until 4:00am to fund my dig. The list can go on and on about my ups and downs, time, and experiences of my dig, even until today as I share my words with you.  Even though disappointment, discouragement, and distraction appeared in my sight, I realized their role was just as an appearance or a mirage. I would ask myself if I was truly hearing or even listening to my “little voice,” or if the outside voice is pointing me in the right direction.  No matter what questions arose I just focused on the one answer that I’m blessed to rise each day with the strength and opportunity to dig.

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I had to understand and except my mind as an enormous and vast desert similar to the desert Professor Cutter traveled upon to find “King Tut.”  I concluded that this vastness should not intimidate me, but rather it should motivate me to access my intuition and to build a resourceful sense of direction.  Finally, an original seed of hope began to grow internally, and all of a sudden, there I stood in my most raw form.