It's not too often I have an "on-top-of-the-world" moment. I never thought one of those moments would come to me while standing on a hill overlooking the Platte River.
One day over spring break a friend and I took a trip to Mahoney State Park. We hiked off one of the trails through trees and mud and discovered a fantastic spot on a hill next to the Platte. Looking left or right we could see the river elongating for miles in either direction, past our point of perception. Green was beginning to appear on the trees along the river. The gusting air contrasted with the placid water illuminated by the sun.
In that moment I forgot that I was in Nebraska. I thought of the scene in Titanic when Jack proclaims the cheesy line "I'm king of the world!" The wind whipping through my hair gave me the sudden urge to outstretch my arms like him. Gazing down the river I saw the bridge over the Platte that I cross every time I commute between Omaha and Lincoln.
I never knew such a view existed in a place I pass so often. I spend so much time on the road with my eyes glued ahead that I am rarely able to appreciate my surroundings. It makes me wonder what else I'm missing.
This moment is just one that exemplifies a lesson I learned over spring break: sometimes you just need to slow down.
Life for me lately has been nothing but a perpetual checklist of things to do. No matter what gets done there is still so much else to accomplish. I needed a break.
Rather than travel somewhere exciting or exotic, I spent my break in Omaha. Only home can offer such a satisfying vacation from the vicious "to do" cycle. Although it wasn't a five-star resort, it was quiet and a nice change of pace from dorm-style living.
While there, I was able to put a lot of things on pause and enjoy the simplicity of a week with no schedules, deadlines or lists. I took advantage of the free hours to catch up on the sleep my body craved from weeks of deprivation. I also got to spend afternoons absorbing myself in good books, journaling and writing, things I rarely have enough time for.
At my house I felt like I was part of my family. When I'm at school I feel disconnected from them and don't have a lot of time to call. As I rush through lonely meals and endless tasks, I'm often left wondering where I belong.
Home is the only place where I truly feel like I belong. Over break I was reminded of how much I miss my mother's witty banter and my father's attempts at humor. I even miss my 17-year-old brother who unintentionally makes me smile with his curt remarks and apathetic shrugs.
Break also gave me the opportunity to catch up with friends I rarely see; I'd been apart from one of those friends for over a year. It felt like we had never been separated, but time has a strange way of sneaking by. Kind of like the way tests that were months away are suddenly this week.
Over lunch dates I became aware of the many details in their lives that had transpired since we last saw each other. It was nice to experience missed moments with my friends as they were retold. Having friends like these reminded me that sincere friendships last beyond long periods of absence.
One afternoon I took a solitary stroll down by Zorinsky Lake, near my home, and went off-path through the tall wheat-tinted grass to get as close to the water as I could. I found a spot on a dead gray log and observed a swan on the lake with its head submerged, exposing his white feathered bottom to the blue sky above.
I soaked in the sun and the sound of the small waves rippling across the lake in the steady breeze. As I remained motionless, I was reminded of what it feels like to do nothing at all: a revitalizing feeling I had forgotten in the midst of my hectic life at school.
I want more moments like these throughout the year. I don't want to wait for scheduled breaks to take time out to relax and rediscover all the things that matter to me. Things like time to myself to read, write or sleep. Things like moments with the family and lunch dates with old friends. Things like adventures that reveal the wonder of a new perspective and the beauty of stillness and silence.
The break was well-needed and a welcome opportunity to focus on what I'm doing with my life. When I'm tied down with homework and an endless number of things to do, I forget what I'm living for.
Each day becomes a checklist that I just want to get through. My mind goes on autopilot as I half-heartedly go through the motions as quickly as possible so I can go on to the next task that needs to be accomplished.
Although tedious and time-consuming, checklists can be necessary checkpoints we must get past before we are able to move on to the things we desire. Breaks give us a chance to pause and remember what it is we're trying to get to once we pass those checkpoints.
Sometimes breaks show us that we are going about things the completely wrong way, revealing perhaps that we need to make some adjustments to our current lifestyle.
For me, that adjustment involves some prioritizing. School is important, but people matter more. I'm not going to abandon my studies, but I need to be smarter about how I spend my time so that I can see my friends or call my family. To neglect them is to neglect one of the most valuable parts of my life.
There aren't too many weeks left in the semester, but it's never too late to make a change. Put down the textbook. Take a walk. Enjoy the sunshine. Call a friend you haven't talked to in awhile. Eat slowly. Read a good book by the fountain or at a coffee shop. Pause in the middle of the chaos to remember what your goals are and what you're living for. A hectic schedule can consume your life and take the fun out of living. Slow down and remember that life is more than a checklist.
Bethany Trueblood is a sophomore News Editorial major. Reach her at bethanytrueblood@dailynebraskan.com.
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