College can be a chaotic time, particularly at this point in the semester. Exams and projects pile up, and to-do lists seem to stretch into oblivion. In the midst of these bleak moments, it’s important to slow down for a moment and make space and time to reflect. Read on to hear about the spaces where three Union students find peace in the hustle.
Suzanne Rhodes
I call it my sacred Kroger time.
I have a very specific Sunday routine: I go to church, eat Cobo brunch, take a walk at Liberty Park with my $12 Bluetooth headphones that make me feel extra sporty and then go to Kroger. There’s just something special about walking into Kroger with your eco-friendly reusable bag and seeing all the possibilities unfold before your eyes.
If we were going to treat this time as a deep-dive counseling session, I’d be tempted to say it roots from childhood memories of grocery shopping for my mom when her legs wouldn’t allow her to walk some days.
But honestly, it has more to do with the fact my aesthetic as a human is a Southern, middle-aged mom who does Pure Barre after she drops her kids off at theater practice.
I pray, I shop, I watch parents discipline their kids, I listen to a strange mix of kinda popular songs over the speakers and I forget I’m a college student for half an hour—it’s sacred.
Caleb Morgan
Right about this time every fall semester, I seem to hit this wall where my mood changes with the leaves. The combination of colder weather, perpetual overcast and increase in work load all combine into this head space that I can only describe as “glum.” This glumness isn’t really emotional in nature, but it does tend to affect my overall mood in the abyss that is the calendar from fall break to Thanksgiving break. Luckily for me, I’ve found a sure-fire way to combat the fall blues by embracing it.
On days when I am particularly low-spirited, I get into my car, a silver 2007 Hyundai Elantra (color, make and model matter in this case, since I consider this to be a particularly moody vehicle, especially the hail damage) and drive out to a neighboring Jackson town (preferably Medina/Milan area) and listen to Rex Orange County or Hobo Johnson or Frank Ocean (leading revolutionaries in what is becoming known as “sad boy” music). There isn’t some magic spot or road that I gravitate towards; I really just tend to follow the pavement and drive to the soundtrack of what I’m feeling. I don’t even really sing, just listen and think and gather my wits again. There is just something about the melancholy tunes and the barren trees and the sound of my tires riding on streets that should have been re-paved twenty years ago that just makes everything better.
Naomi Mengel
Marie Kondo would love my reflection space. She did say she loves mess.
My dorm room is not particularly aesthetically arranged or perfectly organized. At the moment, a box of pea plants is taking up half my desk, letters I have yet to send are sitting on the dresser, and random articles of clothing lie on the bed, casualties of my procrastination in putting away clean laundry (who has time for that? I’m just going to wear it again). The walls are comfortably filled with artwork, your basic map-of-the-world tapestry and a picture collage that I made at the beginning of the semester. For someone who is very fastidious in most other areas of life, this space is much more relaxed.
This is my home right now, and this is where I find peace.
These four walls witness my tears, laughter, revelations and sorrows. At the end of a rough day, a wonderful day, or anything in between, I like to sit in semi-darkness with only my string lights for illumination and write. Sometimes it’s a reflection on the day or a passage of Scripture, a prayer, or a poem. Other times, I don’t even know what I write. When stress or sadness hits, I look at the pictures covering my wall: images of family, friends from college and friends from back home. And I thank God for everything I’m learning about Him and about myself through this college experience, even in my dorm room at 2:30 a.m. on a Tuesday.
I think ultimately, a space is what you make of it. My dorm room is a space that is uniquely mine, even though it’s only a temporary home. A few minutes of rest, reflection and prayer at the end of the day are wonderful in any space, but it’s in the quiet darkness between my second-floor window and the overstuffed closet opposite that I find myself at home and at peace.
