Here Comes The Sun

A very close friend of mine, in many ways someone who I grew up with in college, took her life last week.

Jordan Harris was loved by virtually everyone she came into contact with. She will be remembered as the “Sun”, always extending warmth to those around her. She was someone who danced and sang and cooked and listened and studied and hugged and laughed and loved.

Jordan brought medical devices to Ghana one summer, worked for a women empowerment organization the next summer, and studied in Argentina last summer.

Jordan organized yoga retreats, musical jam sessions, dinner parties, to just name a few things.

Jordan created communities.

Her death is nothing short of a tragedy. Everyone’s reaction is, Not Her! And then immediate tears.

Our friends commented on how she brought all of us together. She was the glue.

What do you do when such a friend – such a loved one -- inexplicably and irrevocably leaves our world?

You acknowledge the complexities inherent in people and that you’ll never fully understand them. You celebrate that person’s life and their impact on you. You relish in the memories: her various facial expressions, her voice intonations—her laugh. 

On Sunday, dozens of students came to the arboretum to celebrate Jordan’s life by living exactly as she did: surrounded by quality food, music making, and special people. (And, in Jordan's presence, everyone was a special person.)

In the last week, Strangers have become friends. Foes have let their guards down. There’s been a tremendous showing of solidarity. We’ve all cried, hugged, and said our good-byes together. 

Even in the wake of her death, she’s building communities. 

We can learn much from her death: Depression is a very serious mental illness. It can plague the happiest of people and have the most deleterious of effects. (I didn't know this.)

But we can learn much more from her life. From her example.

Jordan was particularly adept at living in the moment. At loving unconditionally. At linking her happiness with that of the community.

Forgive the pun, but I think this is important: We’re taught to want to be like Michael. We should want to be more like Jordan.

We’re taught, even if subconsciously, to be the star, to win at all costs. Often, we simply give lip service to serving our communities, to loving one's family, to enjoying the simple things in life. 

There will, in all likelihood, be no full-feature biography of Jordan Harris. She will not be as publicly revered as, say, Lebron James would, if he happened to die today. 

And yet, I think, Her story has much more to offer us. 

Jordan had the wisdom of a mother. In fact, I called her exactly that -- okay, mom -- when she'd be caring or kind. 

(She knit me an effing scarf, for god's sake, which took her weeks on end, just to show her affection. I'll have that token of love for the rest of my life.)

Jordan, as our stories celebrated, knew how to have fun. Despite her accomplishments and her potential, she rarely took herself too seriously. One of her favorite quotes was, "You can't dance and stay uptight."

The other day, I perused my inbox for our gchat and e-mail exchanges, and found a few gems. In this letter, which was a response to me coyly suggesting she straighten her hair more often, her humor rang:

“cute hair dig - i've straightened my hair maybe five times this summer, and have grown to love the curls. ha.

also you have a big nose.”

On her trip to Ghana, she reflected:

“it was nuts..but they were all so friendly, EVERYONE was. the best international travel experience ever (not that i've had that many). and i got lots of marriage proposals! fun, huh? not because the men wanted green cards, but because they wanted me to come and cook for them and their families. but rose, who was one of the children out of the house, wanted us to find her a white american man to come and marry her and taker her away...interested? gahhhh, so much more to tell. it was fantastic. “

hit me back yo...and don't feel pressured to send a 1500 word-essay either! 

can't wait to see youuuuuuu!!

jo”

She was slightly unsure about her talents, which were numerous, impressive, and applicable,  and I would immediately let her know that. But I could have been more specific: I wish I told her that she knew how to laugh, love, and, thus, how to live well. What more could you want? 

To study her life is an education in and of itself. You cannot teach what she had. 

Amazingly, she simultaneously was a happy-go-lucky lover and a deep, remarkable thinker. Responding to a book we both enjoyed, The Elegance of the Hedgehog, which is all about a girl contemplating suicide, Jordan reflected: 

“and we really are nothing but dust in the wind, right? here for a blink, then gone forever. so i think once you accept that, what else is there to be but suicidal or hedonistic? maybe not hedonistic, in the negative sense of the word, but hedonistic like utilitarian? like doing the things that make people the most happy, including (really starting with) yourself. otherwise, the blink is a waste, i think. that's as much as there is to it. (in my humble opinion) and i choose the latter, because suicide is just as much of a waste as spending your life doing something that doesn't bring you and others joy (or maybe it's the other way around, but you get the idea)."


(and in that same e-mail she wrote: "loving work downtown..fun to meet people, MOST fun to speak in spanish con mis compadres en la cocina...i'm gonna get back into rollerblading, i decided...if you're ever in NJ again we should meet somewhere in the middle and bike around for a while. bring your dad...)

i heard this again the other day: "life is not a dress rehearsal" it doesn't get much more cliche than that, but where else do clichés come from but the truth? i'll never be young again, in this place, with these people in this exact situation. so why shouldn't i make the most of it?” 

She did make the most of it. In many more ways than she or we will ever know. Sending lots of love to you, Jordan.