Hey, I've written a generic common app essay and have included some Hindu concepts (because the religion is very important for me). I would like feedback as to whether the Hindu stuff makes sense in addition to the traditional feedback. Thanks and good luck to everyone else!
As I clean a stretcher with ethanol wipes and search for linens to cover it for its future patient, I ponder a particularly insightful stanza from the Bhagavad-Gita, my Hindu bible, my source of truth and my go-to for guidance:
The one indestructible Reality in all beings,
[Is] Undivided in the divided (20)
Having found the elusive linen closet, I make my way towards the E.R. where the patient has been sleeping after breaking her arm in the kitchen. I walk past a busy fast-paced doctor staring intensely at his clip board and a scruffy janitor mopping the floor. Never having faced the stresses of managing people's lives or cleaning floors for a living, I feel so far from their lives. But that stanza reminds me that beyond the apparent differences in our physical manifestations there is some sort of universal force, some intangible "Reality" (as the Bhagavad-Gita calls it), that connects all of humanity. Only a couple months ago at this hospital, a man that I only know as "patient 3004" helped me get a little closer to this realization.
He seemed to be just one more elderly person in a sea of ailing souls- just another patient in my many hours of volunteering at this hospital. Assigned to take him to MRI, I whispered gently in his ears to wake him up, guided his rusty body to the wheelchair, and swiftly maneuvered him past the bed and into the halls.
Conversation started up as usual: we began with a mutual sigh over the rain that had been plaguing us for days and discussed the Phillies' recent win - anything to fill the void of silence. Suddenly, he delved into the more personal aspects of his life. I learned about his arduous upbringing on a farm in the Midwest, his reluctant draft into the Vietnam War, and how he married the girl of his dreams. He wanted nothing more than to see his two daughters again. But then I learned of his cancer - a black tumor bulged against his pale, polished head. Instinctively I attempted to assure him that he discovered the cancer early enough, though I suspected that it might have already spread to the brain. Nevertheless, he responded with a chuckle and a cheerful "thanks".
I struggled to let go of the wheelchair knowing how little I could do beyond my transportation duties to save him. This patient reminded me that each of the people I've been transporting- hundreds during my years there- revealed a story through the events they described, their constant smile or their everlasting tears. We are all the same underneath, filled with the same indestructible soul that transcends death and is connected to the same Reality, a universal soul of global humanity that is common among all people. Given my fortunate position, I know that it is my dharma, my righteous duty, to shape in the greatest capacity that I can the stories of these patients and their families, not just here but globally through my research and service.
I may have only had a small impact on the story of patient 3004, but I hope he is still alive to create many more.
As I clean a stretcher with ethanol wipes and search for linens to cover it for its future patient, I ponder a particularly insightful stanza from the Bhagavad-Gita, my Hindu bible, my source of truth and my go-to for guidance:
The one indestructible Reality in all beings,
[Is] Undivided in the divided (20)
Having found the elusive linen closet, I make my way towards the E.R. where the patient has been sleeping after breaking her arm in the kitchen. I walk past a busy fast-paced doctor staring intensely at his clip board and a scruffy janitor mopping the floor. Never having faced the stresses of managing people's lives or cleaning floors for a living, I feel so far from their lives. But that stanza reminds me that beyond the apparent differences in our physical manifestations there is some sort of universal force, some intangible "Reality" (as the Bhagavad-Gita calls it), that connects all of humanity. Only a couple months ago at this hospital, a man that I only know as "patient 3004" helped me get a little closer to this realization.
He seemed to be just one more elderly person in a sea of ailing souls- just another patient in my many hours of volunteering at this hospital. Assigned to take him to MRI, I whispered gently in his ears to wake him up, guided his rusty body to the wheelchair, and swiftly maneuvered him past the bed and into the halls.
Conversation started up as usual: we began with a mutual sigh over the rain that had been plaguing us for days and discussed the Phillies' recent win - anything to fill the void of silence. Suddenly, he delved into the more personal aspects of his life. I learned about his arduous upbringing on a farm in the Midwest, his reluctant draft into the Vietnam War, and how he married the girl of his dreams. He wanted nothing more than to see his two daughters again. But then I learned of his cancer - a black tumor bulged against his pale, polished head. Instinctively I attempted to assure him that he discovered the cancer early enough, though I suspected that it might have already spread to the brain. Nevertheless, he responded with a chuckle and a cheerful "thanks".
I struggled to let go of the wheelchair knowing how little I could do beyond my transportation duties to save him. This patient reminded me that each of the people I've been transporting- hundreds during my years there- revealed a story through the events they described, their constant smile or their everlasting tears. We are all the same underneath, filled with the same indestructible soul that transcends death and is connected to the same Reality, a universal soul of global humanity that is common among all people. Given my fortunate position, I know that it is my dharma, my righteous duty, to shape in the greatest capacity that I can the stories of these patients and their families, not just here but globally through my research and service.
I may have only had a small impact on the story of patient 3004, but I hope he is still alive to create many more.