#1 Learning to Sail

They say we learn all our lives. Sometimes, it is easier to learn from your own or someone else's
experience. For example, while a new job can bring us a lot of new knowledge, an old one allows
improving skills you already have. Thus, most people stick to their old jobs. It is rather hard for an adult
person to learn something entirely new. For this reason, I find myself lucky that I decided to enlarge the
scope of my skills. It was three years ago. I had a paid leave and had nothing to do. The point is that I like
to travel on my vacations, but that year I had no opportunity to do so. Besides, all my friends had to
work, so I was on my own. I felt extremely bored. As far as sitting in front of my laptop the whole time
was not an option, I started to search for some new experiences.

Eventually, I found out about Sailing Association that gave an opportunity to sail like a professional to
everyone. At first, it made me feel somewhat skeptical, but I still decided to give it a shot. I remember
when I first came on board, the boat lurched. Surprisingly, I didn't feel scared. I got eager to find out
what should I do to control it. I felt so excited given that I had never done anything connected with
sailing before. None of my friends or relatives ever sailed. That is why I did not know a thing about boats.
I really could not see the difference between a mainsail and a jib. It took me quite a while to memorize
everything, and I sincerely appreciate that my instructor was patient with me.

The day I first sailed on my own was unforgettable. Before we took off that morning, I was nervous to
the extreme. My thoughts swung from ‘I can do everything!' to ‘Why on Earth I decided I should do it?'
However, the moment had come, and all the stress went away. After all, this is what the ocean does. It
takes all your worries and fears away. It gives you freedom from whoever you are onshore and reveals
your new venturous self. I felt the rush of excitement I had never experienced in a lifetime. I was
accompanied by the instructor, of course, but I was entirely responsible for every maneuver. I did make a
couple of trivial mistakes, but I still was very proud of myself.

Peculiarly enough, something that started as a mere fancy has turned out to be the biggest passion in my
life. If I had an opportunity to go back to that summer, I would do the same thing over and over again.
Today, I am a certified sailing enthusiast, and I am looking forward to becoming an instructor myself next
year.

Every new skill we get is something that forms our individuality. We surely should deepen the knowledge
and skills we already have. Besides, we have to try something new because, sometimes, it can change
our entire lives. This what happened to me when I started sailing and I keep thanking the Universe for
this chance.

#2 Something that makes me proud

Life is like a puzzle; and when the pieces fit, you finally see what you have to do. This happened to me
when I decided to become a volunteer and help those in need. I wasn’t looking for that. It was like this
opportunity found me. I am thankful it did, and I am very dedicated to it.
It all presented itself a year ago with a school project. We had to prepare a presentation about any
volunteering organization. Together with my friend Trish, we decided to write about volunteering in
national parks. We are both very concerned with environmental protection, so it seemed like a natural
choice. I started googling for information, and there were several intriguing options. We almost started
writing, when Trish said: ‘Speaking of volunteering, after the project is ready, we should search for a
place where I could donate my stuff!' Trish is a beginner minimalist. She believes that the fewer things a
person possesses, the more productive his or her environment is. I am quite interested in the idea too,
but at that point, I was not ready to go giving my possessions away. However, I insisted we that we had
to find it right away because I knew how important it was for her.

We started looking for shelters and organizations that gathered different kinds of donations. Trish didn't
just want to get rid of stuff. She was set to give her things a new life. She had some clothes, books, a
traveling bag, and a couple of stuffed animals to give away. We kept reading about people who might
have needed any of those, and it struck us how little we knew about life. There were so many homeless
people: veterans, kids, the elderly, those who lost everything during an economic crisis or because of a
hurricane. Moreover, there was a real tragedy behind each story. We were devastated. We thought:
‘Who in such a situation would appreciate a pair of old shoes when they do not even have where to live?'
We wanted to help so much. That is why we decided to visit one of the volunteering communities in our
city.

We were sincerely surprised that volunteering took everything we brought eagerly. They explained to us
that even a small joy could set a homeless person's life on a new course and that whatever meaningless
to us could be a great deal for someone else.

We left those things and felt a little more lighthearted. However, the next day I felt the urge to come
back and to see what else I could do. I packed everything I wasn't using anymore. I called Trish, and she
was happy to join me. At the community office, we were told that we could come each week and help
gather donations as well as delivering them to those who needed them. It has been a year since then,
and I have never regretted that our decision to become volunteers.

Every step we take can bring us to our destination in life. Every person who shares their ideas with us and
supports us can lead us to life-changing decisions, intentionally or not. It does not matter what we do.
We should take opportunities. Last year, I did. I want to help others, and I hope to inspire as many people
as I can with my example.
Memorable Experience

When I was about 13 years old, I visited an airport in Vancouver, Canada, to see a great holy personality:
Shri Mataji Nirmala Devi. She was the founder of Sahaja Yoga Meditation—a worldwide movement of
spiritual practices that continues to this day. My mother was and still is a follower of hers and I was
merely interested and tagging along. It turned out to be one of my most memorable experiences.

Getting to the airport, I was nervous for some reason. I never saw Shri Mataji in person, and she was
and still is highly revered in India and abroad. So, it was a bit like seeing a celebrity for the first time.
There was a large crowd at the entry gate where she was supposed to come out. Word usually spread
about where she was travelling and her followers would come to each airport to go to greet her into a
new country or city. Commonly, people would enjoy giving her flowers as she entered the airport, and
she would talk to her disciples in the process.

In light of this, I was carrying a flower as well. As soon as it was announced that she was coming through
the entry gate, my nervousness shot up. People began to get closer to the gate in an almost half circle.
As Shri Mataji passed through the gate, people walked towards her in an unrushed way, and gave her
flowers, one by one. Shri Mataji was giving short comments to each person like, “Thank you,” “Oh, such
a nice fragrance,” and such. Sometimes, she would stall at one person and ask about his or her family or
a meditation program he or she was conducting.

When it came to my turn to give a flower, I did not know what to do. My mother looked at me with kind
eyes and prompted me to offer her a flower at her feet, as was the custom in Indian society to a guru or
a person of significant stature. I do not remember what Shri Mataji told me and how she looked at me,
but what has stayed strong in my memory is how I was smiling. I was smiling in such a way that I have
never done. I felt so much joy and satisfaction that it is practically indescribable.

I was smiling so much that I even tried to stop smiling. For some reason, I could not stop my face from
making an expression of happiness. It was like I had lost control over my facial movements, or that I
could not edge my way out of how I was feeling. There seemed to be no stopping my joy.

The rest is a blur, but I do remember going to the house where Shri Mataji was staying. Even after the
ecstatic experience at the airport, I was still too shy to be in her presence. So, I mostly watched her
interactions with people from afar and did not try to get in a conversation with her. My mother, on the
other hand, was comfortable speaking to her, and was even talking to her about the future health of my
little adopted sister, who was born drug-affected. At that moment, I was watching this unfold from a
glass screen door from the backyard. Reflecting upon this, I feel a bit of shame and disappointment that
I did not have the courage to converse with this great person. In a way, I missed the chance of lifetime,
as Shri Mataji became increasingly busy in the future—so, it became more and more difficult to find an
opportunity to talk to her on a personal level.

Anyways, the joy and satisfaction I felt when I offered a flower to Shri Mataji’s feet is something I will
never forget and still reminisce about at the age of 33. I think it is the fact that I felt a height of emotion
and spiritual bliss that I never experienced before, and that it happened seemingly in an instant. When I
meditate now each day, I try to achieve that same feeling and mood. Sometimes I can get glimpses of it
spontaneously—but other times, I wish I could meet Shri Mataji again, though she has now passed
away. To this day, I am amazed that just the presence of a person can uplift someone to such a
consciousness.

My Earliest Memory

First memories of oneself can be easily confused with fabricated memories made by looking at old
pictures, movies, and hearing stories related to one’s personal history. This is the case for me: I have
seen so many home movies, heard so many stories about myself, and seen so many pictures about my
early childhood, I do not know for certain what my first memory is in actuality. Since I cannot pinpoint
my first memory exactly, I will unfold a series of memories that were the earliest in my childhood.

I remember at night looking through the large glass

windows of our living room at the huge pine trees and douglas fir trees, which brushed against our
white fence. The trees would sway sometimes violently in the wind, as it was common in Seattle at
night. I would watch the trees dance, believing to see many frightening and strange shapes forming in
the dark, as if the trees were alive in a conscious way. The trees would shift into the types of monsters
my imagination dreamed up. I would tell my mother about the shapes and forms, but as a common
mother would do, she tried to calm me down instead of play along with my eerie fixation.

Another sharp early memory of mine was when I examined my body. I was curious, as most children
are, about the texture and form of the body we are given at birth. From an early age, I had four
operations: two open heart surgeries, and two hernia surgeries. I would feel my scars, which scale up my
chest and travel near my groin as if they were landscapes, burned into my skin until age would fade
them away. Besides scars, I would relish over the smallest of particulars about my eyes, which have
hazel lines shooting out from the pupils. I would examine my life state through my eyes: I could see how
I was on the whole through them. My hands were also a point of curiosity for me: my left hand is
significantly smaller than my right hand because of surgeries. Comparing them was and still is a bit of a
fetish of mine.

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I learned to ride a bicycle quite early, though I do not remember the exact age. My father was a
professional cyclist at one point, and he wanted his son to be keen in the sport as well. But I remember
my first attempt to ride a bicycle without training wheels ending disastrously and humorously. Out on
the main street next to our house, where there were almost no cars driving around back then due to
less population, I started out okay on a small child-bike. My balance was fine from the start, but then I
got overexcited and lost my balance, eventually smashing into our mailbox. Though my dad was
concerned about my safety at first, after he saw that nothing serious had happened to me, he laughed
without hesitation and was poking fun at me. I did not feel discouraged—in fact, I was laughing along
after a few seconds.

I have many more scattered memories that could count as first memories, even though they are mixed
in with my impressions from watching home movies, seeing pictures, and hearing stories about my
childhood. We may not know our first memory for certain, but once we try to dig it up, the world we
lived in as a child begins to pour through the lens of visual thought, bringing back the atmosphere of this
time into the present moment, like an incense smoke that softly curls around our present senses.