Luis Tobon

A year ago today, I was involved in a solo flip-over car accident. My new car was destroyed, but after crawling out of my sunroof, I realized I was miraculously unscathed (besides back pain and increased anxiety that would follow me until today). I had to miss the opening night of a musical I had spent months working on—The Addams Family—only catching one of the shows. I was doubted and questioned about my accident, told my teaching tenure would be in jeopardy since I had to take recovery time and my salary was docked. Facing the reality of adulthood in a bureaucratic society, I found generosity in people who’ve known me and loved me, helping me financially to get back on my feet. I visited physicians, chiropractor, acupuncturist, therapist, even a shaman to find healing and come to myself again. I started prioritizing my well-being and health, causing me to see all the different ways I was sacrificing myself, my time, my health, and my energy in places and people that would replace me if I were gone. I visited my roots and hometown after a global pandemic, finding once again much of the self-worth that was being sacrificed for the other, an other that would never fully accept me anyway, constantly pulling and pushing to shape me into who they wanted me to be. I took the decision to abandon a dream that started since I was four, finding pride and closure in the time I had spent in classrooms and learning from the youth, the leaders of tomorrow. Reminding myself that I was a great teacher and I’m allowed to step away. I successfully transitioned careers, now applying many of my teaching skills in a new environment that I find much passion in: Film. I now manage a historic, independent theater in upstate NY. Enjoying a healthy life-work balance and indulging in the love for this art and the people I meet through it. Holding on to what brings joy and peace but knowing this, too, can be temporary. When my time in this place ends, I will be glad I even got the opportunity to experience it. I’ve let go of grudges and thorns that kept me in a state of anger and disillusionment. I’m still a work in progress and will continue to be for the rest of my time, but this last year has turned my life quite literally upside down and I’m proud of myself for what’s happened in these last 12 months. Severely depressed teenage me would be proud of me. 4-year-old me dreaming of being a teacher would be proud of me. I write all this to say that life is short and can easily and unexpectedly end even shorter. As spring blooms around us, the reminder that nothing is permanent is still looming, winter will come back to wither these same buds away. Enjoy every experience, place, and community you encounter. Everything is temporary, bad or good. A book that helped me through these last 12 months has been The Poetry of Impermanence, Mindfulness, and Joy, curated by John Brehm (cover below). I recommend it to all. Be well. Thank you. Best of luck in this thing called life. Never forget we’re just paying taxes on a floating rock. Do what you love as much as possible. Live as much as you can.