Within the past year and some change, however, I always seem to find myself immersed in a book that more than coincidentally coincides ridiculously well with wherever I am in my life. It all started with an anonymous stranger handing me Paulo Coelho's The Alchemist.
On October 12 of 2007, I spoke as the student body representative at the naming ceremony of our newly renovated University Center. The student body chose to name it after former Wisconsin Governor and former UWSP chancellor, Lee Sherman Dreyfus. He was known as the students' chancellor, a man who could always be found walking around campus with his bright red vest, willing and ready to talk with students about issues important to them. He was truly on their level. When he first came to the University in the late 70's, his inaugural address to the student body started: "Hello, my name is Lee Sherman Dreyfus. Yes, my initials are LSD, and I'd like you all to come on a trip with me."
Due to his rapidly failing health, he wasn't able to attend the ceremony. But it was imperative that we held the ceremony while he was still alive. My speech addressed Gov. Dreyfus and what he had done for the University and the state, as well as addressed the student involvement in the planning of this multi-million dollar project.
At the reception following the ceremony, an older gentlemen walked up to me. He said, "I worked closely with Gov. Dreyfus during his time here. He would have been extremely proud and touched to had heard your speech today. I want to give you this..." That's when he handed me a copy of The Alchemist. "I can tell from that speech that you'll be going places. That's what this book is about." He signed the inside: "Shawn, listen to your heart, MC Graw, Colorado.
I placed the book on my shelf with all the other I'll-get-around-to-them-someday books. There it sat until December when I started packing for my trip to Thailand. A group of 13 UWSP students were about to embark on a month journey to work with at risk Thai children. I was on my way out of my room when I looked at my bookshelf and hastily grabbed the book. "Meh, I need something to read during this 22 hour flight." Having no idea what this book was even about it turned out to be the best read for a globe trotting adventure.
It's about a shepherd boy named Santiago and his journey. Throughout the read, I couldn't help but compare myself to the boy, as I too was making an incredible journey at the time. Besides the cliche "the journey is the reward message," the book is full of lessons that I will carry with me forever:
"I don't live in either my past of future. I'm interested only in the present. If you can concentrate always on the present, you'll be a happy man. Life will be a grand party for you, a grand festival, because life is the moment we're living right now"
"The fear of suffering is worse than the suffering itself. No heart has ever suffered when it goes in search of its dreams"
"You don't have to understand the desert: all you have to do is contemplate a simple grain of sand, and you will see in it all the marvels of creation."
"Time is another of these things we need to help ourselves to go through life, but it does not exist"
The most relevant part of this book for me and my journey was it's talk of a universal language. A way the world communicates with one another, not via tongues and sounds but via a fabric we are all woven into. Working with the children at DEPDC, I truly heard this language, as none of us students spoke Thai, yet we came to develop some of the tightest bonds with the Thai children over the short time we were there.
My other book coincidences aren't quite as deep, yet still just as relevant to my life.
I came home from Thailand and literally the next day was thrown into the classroom. Culture shock. I just returned from a month in a country that no where near resembles the states, teaching at a school where the children would otherwise be in forced labor or sex slavery. What is the point of sitting in this classroom when there are real problems in the world which my time and effort could be going towards? I couldn't stand the thought of pointless classrooms, until I found myself studying close to the exact same thing in two completely different classes.
Geography and journalism. I used to think they had nothing in common, besides the fact that one can write about the other. My journalism class was topic specific focusing on food and travel writing. Here's where the liberal thinking of UWSP got the best of me. My geography class basically revolved around how the spread of humanity has desecrated our planet. One such issue is the over-production of, well, everything to sustain, well, everyone. Food production ties in of coarse. From over-fishing to over-farming and depleting nutrients in the soil, humans are using more than mother earth can give us. While I was learning the technical side of this from my geo class, my journalism teacher had us reading Michael Pollan's The Omnivore's Dilemma and The United States of Arugula by David Kamp, both of which addressed food production on a more personal level.
Now, I've always been a closeted anti-establishment kind of guy. But these two classes simultaneously bombarded me with a "here's how shitty the human race is" kind of mentality (in geo we screened some incredible documentaries, including Who Killed the Electric Car, it'll make you hate corporate America, if you don't already). So if you want a discussion sometime on capitalism, our environment, and the food we eat, I'll be happy to share some heated opinions.
On a more positive side though, my journalism class also got me to read Garlic and Sapphires by Ruth Reichl. As a New York Times food critic, her incredible writing has me thinking about food more than I ever thought I would. Plus, her writing really inspired me to write more. Now, I have this blog that I feel obligated to write on all the time......
Kidding, this is kinda fun.....
Following that spring semester, I immersed myself in The Last Lecture by Randy Pausch. As if Ruth hadn't inspired me enough to write, Randy was the writer who started it all. While this book of little short lessons should not have taken me all summer to read, I wasn't in a hurry to get through it. I tried to take each little lesson to heart.
Getting around Europe, I let Rick Steves enlighten me to the places I was visiting. Better than a text book, but not quite a leisure read, but rather informative in a fun way. This book wasn't so much a coincidence as it was an "ok, I want to know about the places and things I'm going to see." However, my next read was coincidental all over again.
I kept seeing subway posters for The Whole Truth by David Baldacci, and being stranded at Luton airport for six hours finally brought me to buy this international thriller about a second cold war. This read was extremely fun because the action takes place all over Europe, particularly in the places I had just been on my continental tour. It was the first time I could say "sweet, I've been there." Since being back home, I turn on the telly or read an article and say "sweet, I've been there" quite often.
The tube and bus rides get long without something to read, and sometimes you just can't stand those evening newspapers. So as soon as my flatmate was done with The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini I snatched it up. Again, having no idea what it was about, I dove in. The book takes an in depth look into the life of modern Afghanistan while following a boy from childhood to his adulthood exile into America. This book opened my eyes to the lives of the people around me while I worked in the London neighborhood of Harlesden, where I was one of the only white people. The food, lifestyles, and all around culture described by Hosseini mirrored what was going on all around me.
After The Kite Runner, I stuck to my iPod and evening newspapers to entertain my commutes.
Finally, to what I'm reading now: Gods Behaving Badly by Marie Phillips. This saucy little tale is about Greek gods living mortal lives in modern day London. Yet again, another pleasant surprise. As I was reading last night at a little coffee shop in Green Bay, there was a scene that took place "somewhere between Euston and Kings Cross." For a visual, I pulled the Tube map out of my jacket pocket, as it has been there since my return home. Just like in The Whole Truth, I can read along and say, "sweet, I've been there."
I try to look for these little coincidence in life, however lately, I haven't had to look hard. They are in black and off-white on the pages of the books that I happen to come by. The word coincidence, though, has such a benign connotation. I feel they are little messages, reminders, or signs from the universe around us...from God, if you will. As I learned from The Alchemist, there is a fabric that binds us all, the world and the universe it exists in. If we can learn to listen to this web of our lives, I think we'd be all the better for it.
And speaking of coincidences, I was thinking a lot today about what I am doing, where I'm going in the next few months. Then in the middle of writing this I received a message from a friend wondering if I wanted to work with him in Alaska.... I'm listening and the message is coming in loud and clear.
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