133. Forks in the Road – Jedidiah Jenkins
When looking back, the years of life tell a story. The chain of days string together into a narrative shaped by choices we make at pivotal moments, some large, some small.
In middle school, I was teased for having a girly voice. I was called a “fag” a few times but didn't know what it meant, only that it was bad. One kid—I still remember his full name the way we always remember a childhood bully's name—cornered me in the hallway and told me I was an “ugly fag.” He was short, comically short, and it had turned him mean. I was six inches taller than him but soft and rosy-cheeked and scared out of my mind. After he had seen my fear, happy in his power, he left me standing in the hall. I trembled and hot rage crawled up from my chest to my face. I wanted to kill the little cockroach. I wanted to become cruel like him. I knew I was smart, and that if I used my words right, I could cut him into sashimi.
But as the anger flushed my cheeks, a thought appeared in my head: What type of person do you want to be? A mean person or a nice person? If you are mean, you can hurt him back. If you are friendly, and funny, perhaps you can win him, even make him like you. I answered the question in my thoughts. “To be mean seems exhausting. I'd rather be funny and nice and show him that he should be kind to me, and be my friend. I'll be so nice and fun that he'll regret being mean.” It was as if a demon and an angel were on my shoulders, and I chose the angel.
Here's another one. It was during junior year of high school, when we were all applying to college and daydreaming about what life would become. It just so happened that Time magazine had named the University of Southern California “college of the year.” They had photos of beautiful grassy parks with kids playing guitar and frisbee, of college football and beautiful architecture. I'd never heard of it, but because of those photos, I made USC my first choice. If Time hadn't chosen that school, and chosen another one, I wonder if my life would be completely different. If I would have planted my life in Chicago, or New York, or who knows?
Thinking of this makes me smile. So much of my life is either chance, or some thought that sprung in my head as if from nowhere. It makes me grateful and curious about what it means to be alive, to have a life and be along for the ride. I am both the author and the reader of a fascinating story. One where this loss led to that triumph. This hope led to that disappointment. This longing to that love. With a little distance, and the knowledge that you survived what had once seemed difficult or even deadly, these moments can take on magical significance.
– Jedidiah Jenkins
Prompt :
Identify two turning points in your life. Describe what led up to them, why you chose the path you did, and how it led to now.
Lea Meier
Location: Pfungen, Switzerland
About: I love reading and I have read ever since I learned to read. I got into creative writing when I was in a long period of depression. Since then I've used writing as a form of healing and therapy basically. For this journal entry, I used a sentence from a book I was reading at the time. The book is "Find Me" by André Aciman.
Age: 21
Orsi Temesvári
Location: Budapest, Hungary
About: I am a former charity runner and a spinal cord injury survivor. Creativity helps me to face my trauma, just like running helped me to find my way back towards myself. Both becoming a runner and surviving an accident were important turning points in my life, I would like to share how they are connected.
Age: 28
My life-saving 7K
On 18 March 2016 I started running.
I used to work for a Big4 firm at that time. My colleagues and I received an e-mail earlier that week about a half marathon to be organized in the City Park of Budapest, next to our office. The firm insisted us to take part in the race in teams of three, meaning that each team member would cover a 7K distance.
Two of my colleagues came up to me and invited me to join them in the race. At first I thought they were teasing me. I hated running and I told them I was not even able to run 500 m and they should forget about it. They didn’t.
The thought of having to run a 7K in front of my colleagues scared the shit out of me, but I decided to give it a try. We named our team TaxManian Devils (please excuse the shitty humor of a bunch of tax advisors) and submitted the application form.
I went home thrilled but I also panicked. I didn’t even have proper shoes. But the feeling of girlpower and my ego screaming in my head were stronger than anything else. I found my old Nikes in the wardrobe and found a track of 800 m near my rent.
My goal on the first day was to complete four rounds without stopping. I had no idea about pace, breathing correctly or what running a kilometer meant, but I didn’t care. Those 3.2 km took me around 25 minutes, but I did complete the four rounds. I was soaking in my sweat, my lungs were in pain, but I almost jumped out of my skin. I completed the same distance the next day and on the day after.
A week later I bought myself my very first pair of running shoes, a pair of pink Nike Dual Fusion 3. Slowly but surely I was progressing. The first few weeks of my training flew away quite fast, the only thing I remember is a sunny Saturday afternoon when I completed my first 5K. I ran a full circle (5.3 km to be exact) at the Margaret Island in Budapest.
Three months after receiving that e-mail was race day. I don’t remember too much of that day, I can’t even recall our finish time. But that race changed my life for sure. Running has become an integral part of my life, or maybe even more. It has become a passion, a tool for me to release stress. Something that gave me the feeling of freedom and accomplishment.
In January 2017 I ran my first half marathon which was followed by many others. In August 2017 I joined a foundation and I’ve become a charity runner. I ran for people who couldn’t. I ran for the disabled. I ran with them. On 15 October 2017 I completed a distance of 30K, my first charity run.
On 17 April 2018 I was on my way home, crossing the road when I was hit by a car. I broke my spine during the crash, I immediately got paralyzed from the neck down. Three hours later I was in the operation room and a huge team of doctors tried to fix my spine. Six hours later I was transferred to the intensive care unit. I was connected to a ventilator and my life was in danger. I was between life and death for over six weeks, it wasn’t sure whether I would ever be able to breathe on my own again. I was really sick, I suffered from pneumonia. But then, slowly but surely I was progressing. Just like I did with running.
One of the doctors told me that my injury was so serious that the chances of survival are lower than 1%. But he added that my lifestyle, specifically running helped me a lot to get back to normal breathing.
I survived. I can breathe now on my own.
That first 7K saved my life.
Patricia Daggy
Location: Italy
About: I am a 70ish woman who enjoys the written medium. Jedidiah Jenkins is my inspiration - Turning Points in Your Life
Age: 76
I am three quarters of a century old; so, I have seen a lot of life. There have been many turning points; however, two stand out. I was born at the end of World War II into a conservative, evangelical family. I was raised on a good portion of mid-western values and albeit an equal portion of contradictions between what was espoused and what the espousers did. I had an abusive father who died when I was ten. I had a stoic, stingy mother. I married at the prescribed time. I became a mother at the prescribed time. I did what I was told – that’s what conservative, evangelical girls did. The man I married was unstable and cruel. Aging made him crueler and more controlling. As the years went by my own restless dissonance grew. Actually, I worried for my safety. I worked and I was good at what I did. I was beginning to embrace a little bit of power. My children were grown. They had been my life. They were the sunshine that kept me alive. As adults they didn’t need me in the same way. I had completed a doctoral degree. Avenues of escape were appearing. My oldest son had moved to the east coast. He and his wife were expecting their first child. My grandmothers had played a pivotal role in my surviving a difficult childhood. I wanted to be a “hands-on” grandmother to my soon to be born grandchild. A determination and agency that I had never before experienced pushed me on. I was indeed Mary Oliver’s “Journey”. I interviewed and secured a job as a school superintendent in a sleepy New Jersey shore community. I packed my belongings and I left the cruel b_____ who had abused me for forty years and I never looked back. I flourished in my new environ. The school district loved me. I made friends. I became a bit of a pillar in the small community. And, I set out to be the very best grandmother I could be.
The east coast gave me access to a world that had never been available to me. I became a “regular” at the New York Insight Center. I attended retreats at Omega Institute in Rhinebeck, NY. I was introduced to Pema Chodron, Jack Kornfield, Ram Das, Krishna Das, Robert Thurman. My world was exploding. I attended Broadway shows. I learned to navigate New York City.
In 2012, I was retiring. I wanted to continue to live a life of purpose. In my Buddhist journals I had read about the New York Zen Center for Contemplative Care. They offered a chaplaincy program in Contemplative Care which focused on the sick, aging and dying. I had spent a lot of time at my mother’s care facility. I enjoyed working with residents when I visited. So . . . I enrolled. When I met K P E, the co-director, I knew that I had found my missing piece. Something I had been looking for. I took their classes. I worked hard and I enjoyed a wholeness for the first time in my life. And, I now believe that the universe was preparing me and giving me the support system I would need for the next tragedy.
The second fork - On December 7, 2015 in the early morning hours a New York state trooper called to deliver the news that my thirty-nine-year-old son had died from a massive heart attack. He was an emergency room physician. In his short professional career he had saved many lives; yet, his was not saved. He and his wife had six-year-old and medically fragile twins who had just been released from neo-natal care after six weeks, having been born on October 15. The loss sent me to a very deep, dark hole of despair. The New York Zen Center carried me. And, there were babies to care for grief had to take a backseat.
As I cared for my son’s broken family, I ended up losing my older son. He estranged himself and has refused to tell me why. I think it was triggered from old jealousies that reappeared in his own grief and the fact that I tried to help my widowed daughter-in-law.
Life is long. Life is hard. Life is amazing. You never know what is around the corner. In the spring of 2017, as I waited for the bus into New York City a man who I had seen from time to time on the bus spoke to me, merely commenting on the fact that the bus was late. Intermittently, I would see him after that. Eventually, our chance meeting became a friendship. And, that friendship blossomed into a love affair. In August,2018 we married in a Buddhist ceremony at the New York Zen Center. It was an amazing evening filled with an outpouring of love. “Kindness” by Naomi Shihab Nye was read. My new husband is kind and generous. He loves me unconditionally – how rare is that? We moved to Italy in the summer of 2019.
So – Carpe Diem. I moved from the mid-west to New Jersey. I lost my sons. I lost those who were most important to me. My heart was broken. And, in the loss, I learned that each day is a gift – precious and not to be taken for granted. I risked speaking to a stranger. I risked marrying after a very short romance. I risked moving to a foreign country. And, life is GOOD.