Hope Fletcher Portfolio
Colorful Life
When I was twelve, I wondered what it meant to live. I thought, “What’s the difference between me and a corpse? I’m surviving, but why don’t I feel alive? Like like this existence has no color and I’m stuck in black and white?” I concluded that the difference between me and a corpse is the opportunity to live. A few days before, I almost died- Not the kind where I’m strapped to a stretcher in the E.R., but when I see my life flash before my eyes. When Mama, Papa and I hugged each other so tightly, whispering, “I love you”’ After seeing my life as it was, I realized it was as dull as a palette of greyscale. My heart knew I needed to live, but my mind did not know how.
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Some look to a person who ‘has it better,’ but I looked at who I was- When I was happy and colorful. When I played with the kids in Grandma’s culdesac. We’d race across the neighbor’s yards barefoot with our wooden swords and presented our battle for the girl on the street corner. We’d dance in the rain, extending our tongues to catch the sky’s tears, splashed in puddles until our clothes were soaked. We’d salvage the mud at the end of the driveway to bake a cake for the kind old lady who’d give us popsicles if we sang her a song. We fist fought over who’d be the leader before traveling through the woods, the navigator would spot the dirt paths between thin blades of grass and lead us to the hidden horse stables to steal a ride. It was the red on our cheeks from laughing so hard, the orange soil trails we scraped our knees in, the yellow bumblebees my Grandpa taught me to pet, the green foliage with hidden garter snakes, the blue sky and endless clouds, the purple bruises that covered us. We each have those memories, wild and crazy adventures of all kinds. It’s strange to think that they said the past was black and white, but that’s not true- that’s where the color is
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The world seemed so different through young eyes, so vast, so much to learn, and so much color. What I see with my faded eyes is a world painted black and white. Potential wasting away at a desk, filing cleanly printed paper and scrolling our fingers up and down a screen. Going through the same motions every day from nine to five and the lack of adventure blends the days together until we’ve run out of time. We’re tricked into believing we’re successful, pretending we’re alive, but we’re not- we’re just surviving, simply existing. The difference between you, me, and a corpse is that a corpse is dead and we can live, so why don’t we? How come so many of us are unsatisfied with our existence?
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Still, the younger me walked with purpose and took opportunities, while I’ve been scared to. The thing is: You can hear music if you listen. You can appreciate art if you can think. You can be moved by a poem if you let it. You can walk with purpose if you know where you’re going- if you’ve got a destination. You can live if you open your eyes to everything in front of you. The color is still there. No, your adventures likely won’t be saving damsels in distress from dragons in dungeons- or playing with wooden swords and the misfit neighborhood kids, but that doesn’t mean your journey’s over. Your cheeks will still blush when you laugh. The soil trails will never truly fade. The bumblebees, garter snakes, and skies will always be there, and whether you like it or not, there are still opportunities to get bruises. So, be your own hero, save the world, and don’t be afraid of safe-trouble or cheesy, romantic, fairytales- because that’s the good stuff. I don’t know what my journey will look like or what I’ll reach at the end, but I refuse to let my journey be black and white when there’s so much color in the world. I am going to live.
There Is A Meaning To Life
Argumentative Essay
“The greatest tragedy in life is not death, but a life without purpose.” -Myles Munroe, Pastor and Author.
What is the meaning of life? While doing research for this subject, I read the viewpoint of a nihilist (someone who believes life has no meaning.) In their article, they compare human life to houseflies who are born, eat, reproduce, and die, noticing how we are not so different from the insect species. They state that humans are simply more evolved than the flies that are seen as worthless, and our only reason to live is reproducing and survival, but that doesn’t mean life has no meaning. Reproduction and survival alone shows that life is something entirely unique to itself as rocks, water, air, and fire can’t do that. There were an infinite amount of possibilities that life wouldn’t exist, but here we are, and is that a coincidence? If there was no reason to live, why would we bother eating or reproducing or fighting off predators? We wouldn’t because it doesn’t matter- but it does, and that’s why we do. And we do more than what’s necessary for survival. Birds sing, foxes laugh, humans create art, lions play with their food, orcas dance, elephants bury their dead and grieve. There is so much more than survival, there is life and there is meaning.
Aside from asking what the meaning of life is, others argue should there be a meaning to life? If there are so many fairy tales where people run from prophecies, away from the destiny that dictates their life. Even people in reality who feel miserably trapped in their existence from what’s expected of them. But this is not what you think. Those fairy tale characters aren’t running away from life, but some sort of purpose that was imposed on them. You cannot force a purpose of life onto someone, but it is life changing to find your own.
“A new study by a team of Harvard School of Public Health researchers finds that if you feel you have a higher sense of purpose in life — defined as having meaning, a sense of direction and goals — you are more likely to remain healthy and physically strong as you grow older.” When you escape from whatever is dictating you, and finally treat you own life as a an ever importantly valued gift, you don’t just survive, you live. Whatever hurt you does not have control over your life.
“Find your why and you’ll find your way.”- John C. Maxwell
So, what is the meaning of life? The most common response is 42- also known as the ‘I haven’t thought too hard about it and I’m not going to’ response. 42 came to be from Douglas Adams' “The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy,” when in his story a supercomputer is asked this question; “The Ultimate Question of Life, the Universe, and Everything.” It responded with 42. Why? Because 42 is an ASCII code for asterisk, translated to anything or everything. So the meaning of life is anything or everything? How does that make sense? Everything is a part of life, but saying everything is the meaning of life is like saying (point to something) that is the meaning of life- and do you really want the answer to that question to come from a machine that cannot experience life? What is this, the Matrix? *Maybe* Nerds. Saying 42 doesn’t make you sound smart or higher than art thou, it only shows that you don’t appreciate life, just like Jack Horner.
The meaning of life does exist, otherwise, we wouldn’t.
The meaning of life does not exist to change or restrict you, but to free you into living your life.
The meaning of life is not a number, nor an asterisk, nor anything that comes from a computer.
Life is not a stone that stays still and unused. Life has more emotion than a thunderstorm or a sunset sky. Life is painful so we know beauty when we see it. Life and living creatures may have no real purpose for some of the things they do, but it is their life purpose that lets them do it anyway.
“Isn't it enough to see that a garden is beautiful without having to believe that there are fairies at the bottom of it too?” -The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.
Nature Is Our Home
Climate Story
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Mni Sota Makoce is my home. A land with waters so beautiful they reflect the clouds in the sky. Something so sacred must be protected.
I never used to pay attention to the changes in our weather. Minnesota's always had warm summers, cold winters, and can't seem to decide when it's spring. I think I first noticed change two summers ago when one of my hens fainted from heat stroke and died, and the others could hardly breathe. It's only become more obvious now that our winters are less white, the ice is so thin, and spring is becoming colder. I can see the impact of the drought we experienced this summer. The smoke from Canada's wildfires altered the color of the sky, our air quality deteriorated, and animals began to drink from our chlorine pools out of thirst. It's impossible not to see that our world is changing. Our home will die unless we find a way.
Close to my house are woods where the neighborhood children play. Kids on their four-wheelers race across the sandpit while others walk through the trails. It's small compared to the forest in Bunker Hills where I grew up playing 'warrior' with the other boys, pretending to to be one with nature and reconnecting to it in any way we could. No matter how small, these woods are important to every one of us who lives here. I've found my own special place there where I can sit quietly and listen to the song of the Earth, remembering that I'm a part of it. Recently, the woods have been cut down to half their size to make room for a bigger gas station. I sit in my special spot and mourn the trees I will never see again and feel the emptiness in the forest as it continuously loses parts of itself. I'm so grateful for that special spot I have there and can't imagine losing it, like how I can't imagine a winter with no snow, or a sky vacant of the birds' song.
Something that was once so sacred has been taken for granted. With each part of Earth we lose, our people weep, and every living creature it's native cry as our hearts grieve and our home dies. I am one child. There is no war I can win, no land I can save all alone. There is no one person at fault, but each of us is responsible. God made humans different from our other animal relatives so we could protect our home, not destroy it. As a species, we've lost our connection to Earth. It may be hard to believe, but humans are a part of nature. It's where we all come from if you look back far enough. The amount of disconnect has left the human race in chaos and corruption. We no longer come to nature for our needs but take. We've forgotten what's important in life and who we owe that life to: Our home.
There is hope. In an ancient prophecy from the Ojibwe, seven prophets told them what would become of Earth. The first told them they would leave their homes for a new land following a megis, the second said that they would be guided by a little boy back onto the path when they were lost, and the third that they would know they were home when they found food that grows on water. The fourth prophet warned about a new race of people that would change everything, the fifth said there would be a struggle between abandoning our old ways and adopting new ones, and finally, the sixth promised a time of death when Earth would be out of balance full of chaos and grief. Right now, we are in the time the sixth prophet promised would come, but the last prophet, the seventh, promised hope. Promised that through the despair, we would return to our old ways, searching to repair our broken connection to our home.
Life is strange. Our world is so beautiful because of the pain we persevere through. You need rain for the flowers to grow, and it's only after a storm that you see a rainbow. We're in a dark time right now, but no matter how long and dark the night is, after every sunset is a sunrise. Our home is dying because we've forgotten who we are and our place in the world. Together, we can remember, and if we all show love and respect for Earth and change some of our ways for the better, it will heal. The time of the seventh prophet is close.
