Category Archives: letters (my craft)

Letter to the Department of Education Direct Loan Payment Center

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June 13th, 2004

U.S. Department of Education

Direct Loan Payment Center

To Anyone Inquiring or Curious as to the Status of Account 543-##-####,

Nine years ago, in 1995, I was offered a loan to assist me with paying for my college education. At the time, with the reassuring pat of all the social institutions, I was brimming with hope and faith in the benefits and pleasures that a University degree in Business would secure for my life. At the very naïve age of “barely 18,” I eagerly put my name on the dotted line and signed my life to a promise.

Unfortunately, what I did not know then, is that every promise to tomorrow is a lie.

When I completed and received my University degree, I did exactly as the social recipe for success called for. I found a job in the field of my degree and put nothing less than every drop of my passion into it. I worked 80-hour weeks, slept under my desk on weekends, became one of the highest paid employees in the company, and was never a day late in my school loan monthly re-payment checks.

But after two years of this life, I sat up from my computer one day and realized this; That I had attained the dream Society had prescribed for my happiness. I had a successful job with prestige. I had an apartment by the beach, a car, a boyfriend from a magazine ad, and an income greater than that of my parents combined. I had brand name clothing and a swimming pool and as many expensive frothy espressos as I could sip. I had everything…

And it wasn’t enough.

Or rather it WAS enough. It was TOO much. I’d had enough of it! I was grasping at the wrong dream — desperately clenching onto the airy and materialistic notions of the American dream — instead of picking myself up and pursuing my own. (Perhaps American society should also get out of the business of promises to futures?)

But where to begin? I had no idea. But on an intuitive whim, I caught a clue as to where I could to go to find MY dream.

So I put my school loans on deferral, sold everything I owned, strapped on a backpack and left the country.

In the following three and half years I traveled over six continents and through some thirty-six countries. And it was here, abroad, where I found that I can sweat out the passion of my being and soak in the joy and peace of having found MY dream — MY path.

What is unfortunate (for the reader) is that the work I do pays little or nothing in terms of monetary reimbursement. In the years that my loans have been in deferment, I have worked with the children living in the squatter community in the dumpster of Guatemala, built houses for Habitat for Humanity in Fijian villages, strolled the beaches of Costa Rica at midnight helping Leatherback turtles with birthing and keeping their eggs safe from poachers, fought off Lantana from overtaking the native plant species of Eastern Australia, given daily massages to the crippled limbs of those left at the Mother Teresa House of the Destitute, prepared the gardens for feeding an orphanage in India, and taught English to a refugee monk who escaped from Tibet.

I hope you understand that I am not asking for your recognition as a “good” person. I don’t need that. I am merely explaining why my chosen life path does not work with the dollar numbers that you are accustomed to working with. A position in the marketing department of Coca Cola, while perhaps allowing me the luxury of sending timely monthly checks to your office, would only lead me to a life of soul-ular suicide. And a living of being dead, I cannot accept.

These volunteer experiences (and my chosen life path) do not compensate me in money (although they have left me plenty rich in soul). My life loans (including, but not limited to yours) and my appreciative repayment of them, will likewise, not be in monetary form. And this path, of non-materialistic and non-monetary notions, is the only of which my “now” and “future” tread. Despite its financially disadvantaged nature, I have dedicated this life to the voluntary service and inspiration of others. I demonstrate my appreciation for the life of advantage given to me, and repay my debt to humanity, on a daily repayment schedule. And I re-make THIS promise every single day.

Now, I have looked over your deferment and repayment options and find that I do not fit in any of the clean little check mark boxes that are offered. (Seems my life does not want to fit in any clean little boxes.) I don’t need tea leaves to see that I probably don’t have any financially lucrative occupations in my future. But accordingly, neither are there any house loans, marriage licenses, retirement funds, life insurance plans or credit ratings. There isn’t even a mailbox to which you can send a neat white envelope with my name spelled almost right. And I certainly don’t have any intention of ever living on the soil of the United States again.

So with no check box befitting, I give you this letter of explanation. You may do with it whatever you’d like; dump it in a manila file with my number on it, spit on it, send it to the “greater authorities,”or tack it to the cork board for an office chuckle. But at least I feel better knowing that anytime one wonders whatever happened to account number 543-##-####, he or she may pull out this letter and see. Because I do not want to leave this matter without my apology and explanation.

I’m sorry I am currently unable to fulfill my agreement to repay your loan. If ever I come into any kind of money — by luck or wit or inheritance — I will immediately contact you and make plans of repayment. Until then, I hope you will forgive my youthful naivety in making a promise to tomorrow that I could not keep. I assure you that I have learned from this mistake and such promises will not be made again.

And I assure you also that my 4-year crash course in living, (at the prestigious global University of Life) has more than educated me of my debt to humanity for being born into a life of such incredible advantage. And to THIS loan of life that I’ve been granted, I consciously accept a duty to repay, in the forms of appreciation and shared inspiration, on a daily basis, till the day I die *living*.

My apologies, but I do not have an address or phone number or any other information of which will be useful to you in finding me for contact. Not even I know where I will be tomorrow. The only means of communicating with me is via email. I will most likely be here in South America for the good of a year and then plan on making my way back to India, Tibet and Nepal. (Or perhaps Africa?) Regardless, should any representative of your office wish to speak or meet with me over this matter, I most kindly extend the invitation to join me, so that we may discuss the issue further over tea.

With equanimous and undefended love,

Number #543-##-####

(sol’s travel photos) (about sol) (some sol stories) (LeapNow.org)

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Put in My Place

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In my distress of the war, I emailed a very good friend and both complained to her about “my” country and asked to her to give me some shread of hope to hold onto.

Her reply follows;

About Americans – what do you want to say to them? – If you could say anything at all? Here’s what I picture you saying — sometimes it helps to really get it out…

AMERICAN speaking to YOU:

Damn it Sol, those Muslims are fucking up the world!

YOU speaking to an AMERICAN:

Jesus Christ! Don’t you know you shouldn’t make assumptions about other people without REALLY listening to them (not listening through a filter of “you’re wrong, I’m better” – really LISTENING), don’t you know you should sit down face to face and TALK about it? And that if you did you’d realize that those are PEOPLE over there inside those imaginary lines. People just like you and me – people who care about their children and their livelihood and only want happiness and safety and LOVE. And you’d also see PEOPLE who are SCARED to death that someone will come into their country or their neighborhood or their home and destroy all that matters to them? And that the reason they are scared is because it has happened before — that everyone has been hurt, and hurt badly — by someone from another country, or village — or even by someone within their own home. No one is free of hurt – no one on the planet is free of pain. Of course the natural (human) reaction to fear and pain is to put up a defense and fight back. That is why they feel like the have to resort to violence at times.

AMERICANS speaking back to YOU:

Exactly – they resorted to hate and violence. They shouldn’t do that — we need to punish them with more hate.

YOU to the AMERICAN:

NO, no – that is the last thing we need to do. When we hate them for hating us the cycle continues – to no end.

AMERICAN:

But they started it!

YOU:

What?? How old are you? They are just people – human beings. If you want to talk about who started it forever just look at the mess in Isreal – obviously that isn’t working. The only thing to do is to stop creating discord between human beings no matter what. Have you ever heard of a little something called UNCONDITIONAL LOVE. I think Gandhi and Martin Luther King knew a little something about that.

AMERICAN:

That’s impossible – it’ll never happen.

YOU:

I can give you something that will make it happen. I’ll tell you a little secret about TRUTH but only if you promise to pair it with UNCONDITIONAL LOVE.

Because TRUTH paired with UNCONDITIONAL LOVE is what is really, truly needed in the world right now.

Don’t get me wrong – unconditional love is really fucking hard (in fact, it is perfect, you’ll never get there). But the way to get close is to recognize thoughts of hate or discord when they come to mind and say “thanks for your input but no thanks.” Doing that moment to moment is how you break the cycle – you start with you – it is a constant meditation – at recognizing your own degree of hate and LETTING GO.

And when one whose heart is full of unconditional love takes up the banner of truth, he/she is unstoppable. — That is the challenge I give you.

——————– Now read this version of the conversation — read ALL the way to the end WITHOUT STOPPING.

YOU speaking to ME:

Damn it Sarah, the Americans are fucking up the world!

ME speaking to YOU:

Jesus Christ! Don’t you know you shouldn’t make assumptions about other people without REALLY listening to them (not listening through a filter of “you’re wrong, I’m better” – really LISTENING), don’t you know you should sit down face to face and TALK about it? And that if you did you’d realize that those are PEOPLE over there inside those imaginary lines. People just like you and me – people who care about their children and their livelihood and only want happiness and safety and LOVE. And you’d also see PEOPLE who are SCARED to death that someone will come into their country or their neighborhood or their home and destroy all that matters to them? And that the reason they are scared is because it has happened before — that everyone has been hurt, and hurt badly — by someone from another country, or village — or even by someone within their own home. No one is free of hurt – no one on the planet is free of pain. Of course the natural (human) reaction to fear and pain is to put up a defense and fight back. That is why they feel like the have to resort to violence at times.

YOU speaking to ME:

Exactly – they resorted to hate and violence. They shouldn’t do that — we need to punish them with more hate.

ME speaking to YOU:

NO, no – that is the last thing we need to do. When we hate them for hating us the cycle continues – to no end.

YOU:

But they started it!

ME:

What?? How old are you? They are just people – human beings. If you want to talk about who started it forever just look at the mess in Isreal – obviously that isn’t working. The only thing to do is to stop creating discord between human beings no matter what. Have you ever heard of a little something called UNCONDITIONAL LOVE. I think Gandhi and Martin Luther King knew a little something about that.

YOU:

That’s impossible, it’ll never happen.

ME:

I’ll tell you a little secret about TRUTH but only if you promise to pair it with UNCONDITIONAL LOVE.

Because TRUTH paired with UNCONDITIONAL LOVE is what is really, truly needed in the world right now.

Don’t get me wrong – unconditional love is really fucking hard (in fact, it is perfect, you’ll never get there). But the way to get close is to recognize thoughts of hate or discord when they come to mind and say “thanks for your input but no thanks.” Doing that moment to moment is how you break the cycle – you start with you – it is a constant meditation – at recognizing your own degree of hate and LETTING GO.

And when one whose heart is full of unconditional love takes up the banner of truth, he/she is unstoppable. — That is the challenge I give you.

Dear Sarah,

You´ve made my life lighter.

…and my world more peaceful.

I promise to deny the cycle of Hate my energy…

… and to forgive the Muslims, America and myself every single day.

With unconditional love,

sol

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Letter to Leah

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I roll over and pull the wool blanket closer around my head. I’d adjust the blankets to tuck around my feet…if I had the strength. But I don’t. I don’t have the strength to reach my water bottle. I don’t have the strength to put on an extra pair of pants, like I’d like to. I don’t even have the strength to call for assistance. I don’t have the strength to pull myself out of bed and walk twenty feet to the bathroom. But I do. And every muscle in my body screams from fever pain as I do. My brain swells against my scull as I rise, and I have to keep one hand on the wall for balance. The stomach cramps start kicking my insides out and propel me forward. I make it to the bathroom, but on my return I actually stop and fall to my knees in exhaustion. I listen and notice that no one is home. No one here to help me if I pass out, which I suddenly realize is a serious possibility. I stare at my hands. Despite the gallons of water I have drunk, they are cracked from dehydration and purple under the nails from cold. I stare at them for a long time, procrastinating the rest of trip back to bed. The chills race up my back and through my hair and help me muster the energy necessary to make it back to the temporary warmth of my bed.

This was my condition for roughly thirty-six – fever-and-cramp-ridden and thus, mostly sleepless – hours. Thirty-six hours spent wondering if I’ve ever, in all my amoeba days, felt to absolutely and completely terrible. Thirty-six hours spent in astonishment that my body had failed me and so violently violated my trust in it. Thirty-six hours not having the will or desire to appreciate a single thing in life. Thirty-six hours spent only asking for mercy for all those people in the world that suffer like this every single day of their lives.

IT hits me. But I don’t have the energy to cry about IT. Not yet.

I rustle through my backpack and find in my medical kit an old set of antibiotics I picked up last year in Guatemala. I read the instructions in Spanish and it says the pills say will kill a list of six different intestinal parasites. I’m not diagnosed, but I’m desperate. I take half the dosage…and wait.

I tell my mother every few hours that I feel a little better. She knows I don’t. What she doesn’t know is what a comfort JUST her presence provides.

The next day I take the second half of the antibiotics. “Fast and Effective” the box claims. I pray so.

Twenty-four hours and liters of water later, I’m finally re-hydrated again. The fever is gone. The abdominal cramps are gone. I don’t feel “good”, but I can smell the pine, I can hear the birds and I can feel the warmth of the sunshine. Energy has come back to me.

Enough energy to cry.

I have a friend. A best friend. Once upon a time we lived together in San Diego — where the boys would line the boardwalk every day at sunset just to catch a glimpse of the 5’10 figure with bronzed skin and golden hair *that trailed her body by four feet* as she coasted by with the ocean breeze on her skateboard. Even more beautiful than her appearance though, was her stride in, and appreciation of, life. The first person I have ever met who could grasp a moment – a really nice moment – right at its peak and give it love. Recognize it for the minute of bliss that it brought. Most people don’t seem to recognize the best moments of their lives until they’ve passed. But she didn’t. She felt them, and she loved them, AS they happened. Maybe it was her unique ability to be so susceptible to the highs of life that made her so susceptible to the lows. For she had pain. She had terrible migraines. I knew they were in town when her door would close for all daylight hours and she’d emerge from her eye-cover only for a pizza-pocket, a Dr. Pepper and an episode of Friends. Those days started off only once a week. By the end of our year living together, they were four days of week. But she still had life, beautiful life that could not be denied, and her special way of grasping it by the minute.

This was the condition I left her in when I kissed her goodbye on my way out to Guatemala.

We passed email updates throughout the year. Her letters were mostly comprised of under- exaggerations of the pain she was in and crazy tales of the multiple doctors and treatments she was experimenting with. Her “migraine days” increased to seven a week, thirty days a month. She couldn’t go to work. She couldn’t skate the sunsets. She couldn’t get out of bed. She moved to her parent’s home to meet more doctors, go to more pain treatment centers, and take new meds and have new surgeries. But none eased any pain and no one provided any answers.

How many times could I tell her I was sorry? How many times could I urge her to keep hope? How many times could I tell her I loved her and would do anything for her? And would be “there” for her…when I was thousands of miles away? It hurt. All I could be was honest and supportive.

Today, right this minute, she is in pain. Pain that is constant and unrelenting. Pain that weakens you and wrestles constantly with your simplest will. Pain that numbs the senses from feeling the beauty in life. Pain that deeply violates the agreement your mind made with your body upon birth. Pain that makes you fall on your knees in exhaustion and beg for mercy. Pain that consumes your soul.

Pain that I didn’t have an inkling of an understanding about until three days ago. Pain that I experienced for less than two days. Pain that you, Leah, have lived with every single day of your life for years. Pain that you live with this very moment….when I don’t.

So I cry. I cry because I’m so sorry I didn’t understand your pain…. and that I never really will. I cry not only for you, but for all those in the hospital beds next to yours. I cry because I’m out here realizing all my dreams, and despite all that pain (that you don’t talk about), you just keep cheering me on from a hospital bed. I cry because I wish there was something more I could do for you than cry. Well there IS one tiny little thing I do.

I take you with me. I take you with me up every Guatemalan volcano peak. I take you with me to every Thai sunrise. I take you with me on every dive in the Caribbean sea. (And you’re coming to Fiji with me this week.) For you taught me how to “grasp” the moment. To seize it, and appreciate it, AS it happens. To hold it for just for a minute, sigh, smile, and love it. It’s the best gift I’ve ever received. And I think that if someone told me that I’d given them the best gift they’ve ever received, well…that’d make me really happy. And if someone told me they thought of me every time they did something wonderful or saw something pretty… well, that’d make me happy too. And more than anything in this world, and more than any person in this world, YOU deserve a little happiness.

I miss and love you Leah.

(Please, no emails regarding this post.)

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dear CollegeClub friends

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“Something Silly with Sol”

Dear CC Friends,

I can’t believe I’ve been under web cam surveillance for almost a year and a half now! *shakes head in disbelief* What will I do without an audience to watch me pick my teeth after lunch?!

So maybe you’ve heard some weird rumors….or just noticed that I’m not puttin’ in those 80-hour weeks at CC Headquarters anymore? Well something silly IS going on with Sol, and I’d like to explain.

My profile headline has always read “Web Geek and Travel Freak”….and while I’ve spent the last 18 months here at CC working quite diligently on my web-geekyness…the time has come for me to re-concentrate my energy on the other *neglected* half of that headline: travel.

So what am I doing? I’m taking a year off to travel the world. It’s something I’ve been saving all my pennies to do for awhile now….and well, the time has come! If you’re interested in more of the details of where and what I’m doing, I go into further explanation in this Q and A session and you can always track my travels on my homepage at www.solbeam.com. After all, you can never completely unplug the Sol. :)

Making the choice to leave CC in order to pursue other adventures was one of the most difficult decisions I’ve ever had to make. I love the site. I love the community. I love my job. AND I love my team. I know the site like the back of my hand. CC is my home — my comfort zone — and it is for that same reason that it’s time for me to move on. I’m currently working part-time at the CC HQ as I get ready for my long trip abroad. You’ll still find me in front of the webcam Tuesdays-Thursdays through the end of February. After that day, will I still be the employee of CC who writes the CC Updates? No. Will I still be an active member of the CC Community? Forever!

My eternal gratitude goes to the *past and present* employees of the company and to the member community of CC. You have taught me more about myself in one year than I have learned in the last ten years of schooling combined. You have added *literally* hundreds of thousands of “LOL”s to my life — and those *not for one day* — go unappreciated. Thank you so very much.

If you have questions that are not already answered on my Q&A page, feel free to e-mail me! I will always be solbeam@collegeclub.com!

Sincerely,

:) sol

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