Just Do it /Noyah Shebshaievitz/ College Essay

Just do it

Noyah Shebshaievitz

Imagine the famed Exodus was led by Nike’s marketing team. Picture it, Moses standing in front of the Red Sea, Egyptians closing in, and God tells him “remember, just do it!” Thousands of years later, it would be the scene relegated to the stained glass windows in houses of worship rather than on the front of T-shirts at the gym. It’s safe to say, had it been a biblical verse, Jews, Christians, and Muslims alike, would have a new verse to embroider on pillows and motivate them to step out of their comfort zones. But for me, it is a call to action. God and Nike, have informed my being even more than DNA alone, because beyond the evolutionary genes like “HAR1,” “MYH16,” and “FOXP2” that dictate who we are as humans, the combination of sport and religion “dictates” my life more than DNA ever will. Sport, for me, inspires action and lives in the tangible, while religion instills in me the value of surrendering control to the abstract. While the two are seemingly contradictory, I live my life in the mystical confluence between the two.

Whether I am reluctant to get out of bed for a run on a cold winter morning or to make my way to synagogue to lead the youth group, I never give in to the couch of inaction, instead, I get up and just do it.

So I got up one slow and sunny morning to teach Michael, an autistic boy, how to swim. Well, how to almost swim; he may never learn to fully swim on his own, but like a calculus limit, he can still get infinitely close, which in its own right is incredible. As he stood at the edge of the pool I told him “jump!”

Looking back, my instructions were akin to urging him to take the Kierkagardian “leap of faith” - I practically told him to split the sea, to literally and figuratively

dive into new waters. I learned that in teaching Michael how to swim, in the same stroke, I was also encouraging him to trust in something that went against his most basic survival instinct — that a giant container of liquid would support his solid body wasn’t the least bit logical to him — yet he took the leap. He just did it.

Naturally, after diving in, it came time for Michael to float freely. It was at that magical moment that student became teacher. He perfectly exemplified the balance I try so hard to strike. He took decisive action and plunged in despite his fears, and when the time came, he surrendered control to the water. Michael, however, is not the first in my life to demonstrate a balance of these forces.

Watching him float in his pool transported me to the depths of the Nile, as I saw the biblical story of Moses and Miriam unfold in my mind. After the Pharaoh ordered all Jewish baby boys be put to death, Moses’ older sister, Miriam, was compelled to action. She swaddled baby Moses and placed him in an ark to float without clarity down the Nile, rather than the certain doom he faced if she took no action. Miriam took action and then left the rest up to God.

In teaching Michael how to swim, I forged my own link on the chain of women who share the same DNA that inspires me to faithfully tread through the unsure waters that challenge me. This allows me to remain above the current without overcoming the inertia to propel me in a different, unexpected direction. When faced with chaotic shoals, I may choose to tread or even sometimes, ride the wave. And when life demands it, I dive head first. Like Miriam, I don't wait for others to call me to action, I act fiercely with my faith as my natural compass