Making Each Day Count One Breath at a Time
Deidra Bowling-Meade
Ashland Beacon
Thích Nhất Hạnh, who was a Vietnamese Thiền Buddhist monk, stated, “Every breath we take, every step we make, can be filled with peace, joy and serenity. We need only be awake, alive in the present moment.”
Every living being breathes, but how often do we stop to reflect about being alive? Are we fully awake to enjoy each passing moment of life? Are we fully aware of our surroundings to experience life? These are questions that I never stopped to ponder until meeting Paul Blazer High School Senior, Myintmo Tun, who goes by Moe. He shared his unique family history and cultural background that has shaped him into the person he is today.
Moe was born in Ashland, Kentucky and is of the Burmese/Asian ethnicity. His parents, Khin Thu and Win Tun, were born in Myanmar, South East Asia. Moe’s father applied for the green card lottery once they were married and won. They moved to the United States and ended up in Ashland, KY after encountering discrimination in bigger cities due to their race and lack of English. The language barrier can still be a challenge for Moe’s parents; however, they have found their home here. They have raised Moe to be a respectful, hardworking and intelligent young man whose perspective of life encourages those around him.
Moe is involved with several clubs/activities including: Blazer High School’s Academic Team, table tennis, and a Mathematics Content Creator. He has accomplished many achievements during his high school career as well– QuestBridge Finalist, AP Scholar, NKU John O’Bryan Statewide Math Competition Individual Runner-up and Speed Duo Event Champion, 2023 Marshall SCORES 2nd place personal essay, KAAC Regionals 2023 Mathematics Champion, 2021 and 2022 KAAC (academic team) Summer Camp Math Champion both years, and starter on Varsity Quick Recall Team.
Being part of the academic team has been one of Moe’s favorite memories from high school. Moe shared, “My favorite high school memory is probably the 2023 KAAC (academic team) state competition. Although I didn’t reach the goals I have always wished to achieve, it was – by far – the most memorable moment of my high school career. We lost in the quarterfinals in Quick Recall by one point, but that final buzz led me to a sudden realization that it was all over. All the time we spent together as a team was finally concluded by this event, and it all hit me and my best friend – as the only seniors on the team – that this was our final match. We shed tears. Not tears of sadness due to the devastating loss, but tears that told us it was the end of our journey on the academic team. Mr. Lambert, who is the academic team coach, said to me on that same day: ‘Ten years from now Moe, the things you will remember won't be all the awards you have won, but the memories you've made with the team instead.’ The memories I made with the Paul G. Blazer Academic Team that weekend were definitely the kind of memories that I will remember 10 years from now.”
Moe will be the first person in his family to attend college. He plans on attending Florida State University and going into the pre-med track in hopes of becoming a pediatrician.
Moe Tun is wise beyond his years and his maturity was best displayed in a personal essay he wrote about two experiences that forever changed his perspective on life. It resonated so strongly with me that I wanted to share his words with you. Mo Tun lives each day realizing the value of each breath taken on this earth and how that changes our outlook and perspective on life.
Here is his story:
You are Still Alive
I felt the cold metal of the clippers grace the scalp of my head as I viewed the black strands of what used to be my hair, fall onto the rocky soil that lay beneath me. I was then provided a maroon-colored robe as I knelt on the ground repeating a series of pledges. As the words that were once trapped within my breath converged with the air that encompassed me, I was no longer the same person I was a minute ago. “This robe is meant to stand for protection – not for beauty.” For the next seven days, I was a Buddhist monk.
The head monk, Pone-Pone, informed us about our schedule as we were introduced to our minimalistic room consisting of three compact mattresses (for me, my brother, and my father) and the empty walls encasing us. We were unable to contact the outside world, located at the peak of a hill with no traces of civilization for miles. I had higher expectations, but I was content with what was given. Situating our belongings in the room, we then began our first lesson: how to breathe.
I thought this was satire. He told us to close our eyes and breathe as instructed, and we followed along respectfully. Curious, my younger brother asked what the purpose of this exercise was. I will never forget Pone-Pone’s response as he calmly responded, “You are given one gift that remains with you throughout your entire life: your breath. When you feel emotions, your breath is never lost – it changes. When you learn how to control change, you can control your own life.” From that moment, I heard another voice that was speaking to me in a foreign language. A language that no one else could comprehend, because it was from the voices that spoke to me as I could only hear the ongoing palpitations that emerged from my heart. Each throb, each pulse, and each thump repetitively said four words directly to me, “You are still alive.”
The 16 letters that were repeated, suddenly faded away; and the void that I was once staring at, transformed into an extremely familiar setting. I blinked once again and noticed that I was at the wave pool in Hurricane, West Virginia. A new sound of hectic swarms of screams coexisted with the harsh winds that caused all the trees to sway in one direction replacing the euphonic melody of silence. As I turned to my left, my life flashed before my eyes. A heavy object was accelerating through the air in the direct trajectory of my mother. I blinked once again and suddenly my mother was on the ground unconscious. She lay perpendicular to a 40-pound, 12-foot-long steel pole from the base of an umbrella that was poorly established. Several people gathered around to help, and the lifeguards dialed 911. My breathing stopped, and I feared that hers had as well. I was thrust into a state of simultaneous confusion and turmoil, and my heart was beating fast enough to leap out of my chest. The noises around me faded, and my ears rang with the possibility of her death.
Soon enough, she was situated in the back of an ambulance, and we followed her to the hospital. My anxiety clouded my thoughts and the seriousness of the situation was not hidden from me – although at some points I wish it had been withheld. Medical professionals said there was a chance she would not make it. As we awaited her status, I couldn’t help but notice the intensifying rate at which my lungs continued to contract and expand. My heartbeat was in sync with the ticking clock, but it felt as if time was faster than it actually was. Several minutes elapsed, and the only thing keeping me afloat was my breathing. Behind each sharp thump from my heart, I heard Pone-Pone’s words as he instructed me to take a deep breath, so I did. The intense beating of my heart slowed down, and so did the increasing pace of the ticking clock. The sounds began to alleviate, and the only words I could now hear were the same words that I heard before, “You are still alive.” However this time, it wasn’t the same voice that spoke to me in the past. I opened my eyes to view a man in a blue coat grin in my direction as he said the four words once again. A miracle had taken place and the doctor’s words were true – she was alive.
An intense tap on my shoulder from my brother awoke me from this daydream, and I look around to notice I am where I was before. It was time for our next task, and as I continued to think about this memory, I also continued to remind myself that I was alive.
Our next task was to count the beads of a necklace with only our breathing until we all finished at the same time. It was quite aggravating at first, but as I took another breath, I was reminded that everything I do is with a purpose. After several hours, we all grinned and looked up simultaneously as we finally succeeded in this challenge. The week continued with a constant schedule of practices along with meditation through every waking moment. By the seventh day, what had initially taken us several hours to complete in synchronization, had only taken us a single attempt of counting beads at last.
Before we returned our robes and left, I asked Pone-Pone why he became a monk. He told me he didn’t pursue his passion to become wealthy or successful but to provide service to others like myself. It was then that I learned that the definition of happiness differs from man to man. Although Pone-Pone and I would contribute change to the world in different ways, our end goal was identical: to provide others an insight into life that they have never been introduced to before.
Through this experience, I was given a perspective on life I have never given up since. Although it may have taken a few breaths, I realized what Pone-Pone said was true. Through our best and worst days, we are gifted something that accompanies us as a reminder that we are alive – our breath. I realize that on our worst days, things could have been worse. Ever since my mother’s incident, she has been diagnosed with TBI (traumatic brain injury). However, whenever she is asked about the experience, she smiles, shrugs, and says, “I’m happy I’m alive.” Together, we have spent our time walking hand-in-hand through this diagnosis as I care for her as she has done for me throughout my whole life. This occurrence was a reminder for me to appreciate every moment and opportunity I have in life. I learned the hard way that life is fragile, which only increased my appreciation for every breath I take as I hold a trophy engraved with the words, “You are still alive.”
