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My dreams became reality, and my reality in a lot of ways was some sort of fairytale or an ending, climax, or culmination of events that could not even be put into a movie script. As a committee, is very tough for us to say that we missed, messed up, or did things wrong, as we look at the monetary value of the money that we raise that will go directly back to those living with paralysis, however our committee is our biggest critics of all.
It means being conscious and aware enough to choose what we pay attention to and to choose how we construct meaning from those experiences.
For many of us we need to stop from going through our comfortable, prosperous, respectable, adult lives dead and unconscious.
But, still in our eyes we see things so negatively like: We finally get to the checkout lines front and we pay for food and we get told to “Have a nice day!
” In a voice that is the absolute voice of death to us at that juncture of our day.
finishing up my first year of grad school, completion of the seventh annual event, and then the actualization that it is really summertime now, I have had a chance to reflect upon the events that took place a couple of weeks ago up at the Hafif Estate.
There are not many words that come to mind to speak my thoughts, as I have been very overwhelmed and gratefully emotional over the past couple of weeks, as I’ve caught myself crying at moments in time out of mere joy in appreciation, by each and every word that does come to mind is some sort of synonym to the word “euphoric.” Each and every one of you not only made my dreams come true, but in many ways exceeded expectations.
I caught myself the morning after the event up at the estate watching a herd of people rallied together to help with cleanup of the venue, only to think to myself “wow, I am more blessed than I will ever know or give credit towards.” The amount of people that came out, helped out, volunteered, supported, advocated, attended, and most importantly donated, is something that I quite literally cannot wrap my head around.
Overwhelmed, with a variety of different positive emotions is the only thing that comes to mind.
Then we have to take our flimsy plastic bags of groceries to our car with one crazy wheel that pulls to the left, all the way out to the crowded, bumpy, literary parking lot, and then we have the drive all the way home still in heavy, SUV intensive, rush hour traffic.
Everybody who works the “9-5” has dealt with this in some way and it has become a part of their routine, as well as many more boring, meaningless routines aside.