closure

Damn, that radio is loud. WTF...

Off. Blink. 5:45AM.

Snooze it is.

Wait. What day is it? Friday. Fuck. Up, up, up. No - sleeep. Why did I drink last night?

Friday. Fuck. It's graduation.

//

With the weight of all that had happened the night before - feeble attempts to reconnect with a not-so-distant past fueled by liquid courage and the shocking realization that you can't always count on the ones you expect to count on most - the last thing I wanted to do was attend my graduation. I had already done it before. Was it really all that necessary to do it again? I checked my phone and received a message from my mom, who informed me that she was already on her way to my apartment with my dad. At this point, there was no turning back.

So went the usual morning prep routine, hardly differing from my typical Monday to Friday, with the exception of having to wake up an hour earlier than I do for work and having to adapt my hair style to accommodate a mortarboard. Mom and Dad arrived without the excitement that accompanied their presence at my commencement in December, but they were happy, nonetheless. We drove to the Greek Theatre, making small chat on the way, catching up on the past week's events and contemplating where we would partake in the requisite celebratory lunch following the ceremony.

My parents dropped me off at the Greek, and I hurried up the sloping pathway to the staging area, where hundreds of graduates were eagerly awaiting the start of the ceremony. I searched the crowds for Tanya, my former roommate and one of the four people I actually knew by acquaintance - and the only one I would consider giving the title of "friend" to - at the graduation. We filed in line with all the other American Studies majors and, shortly afterwards, made our way into the seating area.

The Greek was filled with the cacophonous sounds of celebration: screams, chants, banging of pots and pans. Looking around me, I saw fellow graduates beaming up at their families and friends, adorned with leis of good fortune and prosperity. I smiled politely at the audience, knowing full well that I would never find my parents within the crowd of thousands, but looking pleasant just the same, in case they spotted me and wanted to take a picture.

We sat and listened to countless speeches, none of which particularly caught my attention. Not because of their subject matter but, rather, because I felt like I didn't really belong at the ceremony. I was not a member of the Class of 2006, and the feeling of celebration was beyond me. I had no thesis to endure, no finals to study for. That was done and over with months ago. I was sitting in a crowd of nameless faces, all of whom had striven for the past four and a half months to occupy those folding chairs on the floor of the Greek Theatre. What was I doing there, really?

It was then that the student speaker was introduced. She spoke to us about the difference between mechanical time, that which can be calculated in precise seconds, minutes, and hours, and body time, which regulates itself by the beating of one's own heart. While mechanical time forges onward without regard to our wills and wants and can so easily escape our grasp, body time moves with us, providing us with the moments we need to live and enjoy life to the fullest. It does not necessarily fit within the confines of convention, something that can easily be related to the undergraduates of the Interdisciplinary Studies fields, who search for an education that encompasses and incorporates multiple subject matters rather than focusing solely on one field of education. Body time is flexible, accounting for rigid itineraries that fall to pieces to accommodate serendipitous road stops that happen on a long journey and spontaneous decisions to toss aside responsibility for the sake of sanity. This is how life is truly measured - in the moments that catch you by surprise and change your world forever.

Listening to her speak, I finally understood what it meant to graduate with a degree from UC Berkeley. I am counted among the educated and I am privileged because of it. But the three and a half years I spent at one of the world's most prestigious institutions did more than just to teach me about our society, political environment, and culture. In fact, much of the knowledge I acquired during my college career did not come from the classroom. I learned about integrity from peers who held true to their beliefs despite temptation and intimidation. I was surrounded by people fueled by passion who encouraged me to find meaning in all that I did. I learned that the smallest gesture can change a life and enough of those combined can change the world. Most importantly, I learned about compassion and the capabilities of people to care for one another and the communities they live in.

I realized that for me, this ceremony was not intended as a graduation. That had already happened months ago. This formal procedure marking the transition from one point to the next served as a more personal milestone, bringing the closure that I was so desperately searching for in the months proceeding the end of my college education. It helped to give meaning to my experience, which I had previously felt was undefined and empty. Being reminded that the moments of so-called distraction were just as important and informative as those devoted to study and higher learning made me recognize and feel proud of everything I had done and accomplished. As I moved my tassel from the right to the left, I felt the release of all the resentment and sadness that kept me upset over the last few months. It was nice to finally feel that I could move on.

Fiat Lux.