Happiness

Although I have only lived a short sixteen years to date, some of the happiest times of my life were spent on a small Island in the Bahamas. I was coerced by a few friends to go in an attempt to get service hours so that we could graduate. I was originally hesitant to go because 1. I never really liked beaches and 2. It would take all of my spring break, and I was not inclined to spend it doing volunteer work. After a while they finally convinced me and we would later depart for Andros island. The trip to Andros would take about 6 hours via bus and plain, which I expected to be hell but surprisingly, I enjoyed myself the whole way there, despite the crappy bus. After the bus ride, our traveling group would take a cramped plain out of Florida and into the Bahamas where we were greeted by an island covered in dense foliage. The island had a population of about 12,000 people so the island had grown unkempt, but still I admired the beautiful ocean and nature I was not accustomed to back home. Though the island had more trees than buildings, old roads still ran winding through the forests, which much to my discontent, we would travel on in an old minivan with no air conditioning. Although the minivan was small and hot, again I found myself enjoying myself regardless of my surroundings. Along with the minivan, the shacks where we slept were also a bit lack luster. The beds were uncomfortable, there was only one bathroom to accommodate 8 people in one shack, the floor was cold and unforgiving but still I was happy. It never really struck me why I was happy with the conditions I was stuck with until much later but no one ever really appreciates the good things they have until they're gone. I suppose the reason for my happiness was that I was surrounded by people made me laugh and cared about me. I spent most of my time doing what I loved, nothing. I slept in a lawn chair under the shade of a tree watching the sun go down into the ocean. The water that we drank was terrible but the food that we ate together was delicious. When we came back from a day out in the heat and had nothing to drink I remember that we walked to a general store just down the road and had a bottle of water and ice-cream. It was the first water I had tasted all week that didn't tasted like horse piss and the ice-cream almost brought me to tears with it's quenching powers. Even though the island was infested by biting horse-flies, I still loved every minute I spent on it. The days we all spent together laughing and relaxing triumphed over all of the discomforts I had in my daily life. Those almost surreal memories hang in my head as true moments of freedom. The satisfaction I received from the freedom of that island was one of the greatest experiences I've felt to date and wait for the day to find another place where I can laugh and relax with my friends.

Independence

I remember quite clearly on a hot Summer's day my family and I took a trip to a theme park. The park echoed with the sounds of laughter and the rumble of the rides containing them. It had been a good 2 years since my last visit to an amusement park and it was safe to say that my excitement was getting the best of me. I remember thinking of the endless choices I could make and which ride I would conquer first because this was the year I was finally tall enough to ride the real rides. No more slow trains and spinning cups I thought to myself (bear in mind I was 10). As I walked down the crowded streets I wondered which ride I would pick, but as I approached what loomed before me all other choices seemed dwarfed in comparison to this monster.

The roller coaster known as "The Hulk" rose high up into the air with arches and turns not for the faint of heart. From the entrance of the ride I heard the screams of delighted passengers as they flew threw the sky on that green metal chariot and in that moment I knew this would be my first roller coaster. Amazed by the sights and sounds I took in I urged my family to come with me onto the metal contraption. Unfortunately my family did not share my enthusiasm, my mother and father were apparently prone to motion sickness, and my brother, afraid of heights. It would appear I would brave the unknown alone, without anyone to guide me I would plunge into the deep end alone.

Reluctantly, I made my way through the line, not sure if I should continue alone, yet drawn forward by the screams of joy and the thunder of machinery. At last the moment had come. I strapped myself into my chair and awaited whatever might have come next. The centipede of metal chairs slowly began to move toward it's track which to my excitement was up a steep ramp. As my metal chariot rose ever higher into the sky my enthusiasm rose as well. Then, almost instantly, the ride shot forward into the open sky, like an eagle flying above the ground. As I flew through the air an undeniable laughter overtook me as I felt a new type of joy I had to experience, freedom. Never before had I gone on my own and faced the unknown like I did. In that moment it was like a baby eagle jumping out of his nest and discovering that he could soar over those who didn't take the same chance as he. Maybe it was just the adrenaline I was feeling at the time but to me, had I stayed with my family and not taken a chance on my own I would have never experienced that joy.

Fear

Fear has always been the bane of a mans existence and has driven them away from challenges and the rewards life has to offer. Fear of heights, fear of the unknown, fear of death, or in my case fear of failure had been my vice. This fear had kept me from trying new things and prevented me from learning from my mistakes. I had no clue how to overcome this fear and for the most part I just dismissed it as laziness, that is, until I met Jeff. Jeff was my short, middle aged bass teacher who I saw every Thursday at 5 pm and he was everything I was not. Jeff didn't care if his short shorts were too short, he didn't care if what he said offended you and he certainly wasn't afraid to tell me that I was bad at playing the bass. After several lessons we grew more and more familiar with each other telling entertaining stories to one another and what not. One day I said to Jeff, "Jeff, how do I play better I suck?" Jeff replied to me, "You just gotta keep practicing and start playing in front of people even if you think you sound terrible because skill comes with experience." It was then that I finally admitted my fear to Jeff, that I was afraid of looking like a fool in front of people, that I was afraid I'd mess up. It was then that he gave me his typical dumbfounded face he made whenever I said something stupid and told me what no one had told me up to that point in time. He said, "Do you really think anyone cares about you? Your a 16 year old kid trying to play the bass, do you really think anyone who actually came out to your make-shift performance gives a damn if you made a mistake? Also mistakes are the only way we learn!" he shouted. "It's like Paul McCartney said, with every mistake we must be learning, or else we're boned, so stop complaining and just play!" I was in shock. It was like someone had just come along and lifted a curtain of fog out of my face. It was like taking off sunglasses indoors discovering that they really just made things darker and that's why they're called "sunglasses". My epiphany had come in the form of a small, angry, Canadian man. Who cared if I messed up or looked like an idiot? I would learn from my mistakes and get stronger from doing so. From then on would try my best to throw myself into any situation despite my fear because the best things in life are worth trying for.