Embracing Changes

Nothing makes change stand out more than a rock. The first time I arrived at Indian Rock (just an ordinary boulder in Berkeley, California), I was a freshman at Cal and the Resident Assistant of my dorm drove a group of us to see this big rock that lay at the end of Shattuck Avenue. He had given us the history of the boulder, which I don’t remember, and he raved about the views of San Francisco you could see from its top. As a Bay Area native, I had grown up seeing city lights from other vistas much more impressive than a big rock with steps carved into its side. Although I dismissed it as a boring piece of nature’s detritus, it would become a boulder with many different meanings for me.

My sophomore year I arrived frequently at Indian Rock dripping sweat from my chin and breathing hard in the most unattractive way. After gaining the infamous freshman fifteen, I started a workout regiment and Indian Rock was the perfect distance to and from my apartment on the south side of campus. I would run all the way down Shattuck and take a break at the base of the boulder to gaze out at the city, often leaning my back against its cool side while pretending to stretch. It was a welcomed midpoint for me, and eventually I didn’t even have to stop to rest on my run. It became a literal milestone and gave me a sense of achievement every time I passed by.

My junior year I arrived frequently at Indian Rock drinking beer from Klean Kanteens and speaking absurdities with my friends. We never spent more than an hour there, but it was the perfect respite for us after spending days reading esoteric primary documents and frantically writing papers. I was twenty, free, and studying what I loved. Sitting on top of that rock with my friends was more than just hanging out, we were hanging onto life, swinging back and forth and loving the ride. We felt intelligent, we felt sassy, and we felt like it would never end. That year, Indian Rock had become a hangout spot more exciting than the campus bar.

My senior year I arrived frequently at Indian Rock at sunset to be alone with my thoughts. May had passed, we graduated, and most of my friends had left. Like the nerd that I am, I had decided to take a 10 unit German Language course through the summer to prepare me for my graduate studies at Oxford. As August started, sitting on top of that rock and watching the lights burn in the city ignited in me a sense of nostalgia that went beyond my college days. I realized I only had two weeks left in my home state of California before I moved away from home for the first time in my life. I worried over my future, the big changes coming my way, and wondered where life would swing me next. That final summer, Indian Rock was my sanctuary. 

Since then, I've spent the majority of my mid-twenties traveling and working in different places. I've spent a year in the United Kingdom, a year in New Mexico, a year in New Jersey, and now I’m in Chicago. I finally returned to California this year to get married in San Francisco, and I thought about going back to Indian Rock for old times sake. I didn’t get around to it because I wasn’t ready to return and be reminded of how much my life has changed. There comes a point in life where change can be very overwhelming, and I think I’ve reached that point. I'm finally ready to settle down and spread my roots here in Chicago. But, I know one day when I’m ready to reflect on where I’ve ended up, I will return to Indian Rock still sitting at the end of Shattuck Avenue. Maybe I’ll have wrinkles worked into my skin and years of experiences mixed with both the cruel and beautiful, but Indian Rock will have remained the same, and hopefully, I’ll have changed for the better.