“Begin the morning by saying to yourself: I shall meet with the busybody, the ungrateful, arrogant, deceitful, envious, unsocial. They are thus because they do not know what is good and evil. But I, who have seen the beauty of the good and the ugliness of evil, know that the wrongdoer has a nature akin to my own. Not of the same blood and birth, but sharing in the same mind and possessing a portion of the divine. Therefore none of them can harm me, for none can involve me in what is shameful. I cannot be angry with my kinsman, nor hate him. We are made for cooperation, like feet, like hands, like eyelids, like the rows of upper and lower teeth. To act against one another, then, is contrary to nature. To be angry with others or to turn away from them is to oppose nature.” Thesis: Marcus Aurelius teaches that moral clarity, grounded in the understanding of shared human nature, is the foundation for responding to hostility without falling into resentment or reaction. In this passage, Marcus Aurelius begins with an acknowledgment of the inevitability of encountering difficult people. Yet he does not merely accept their presence; he frames their behavior as the result of ignorance. Rather than allowing bitterness to take root, he offers a moral lens that distinguishes between external provocation and internal virtue. The central idea is that knowledge of good and evil—not instinct or emotion—is the shield that guards a person’s peace. Marcus presents a dichotomy between appearance and reality. The insult, the arrogance, the deceit he anticipates are not interpreted as personal attacks but as expressions of a deeper confusion within others. Their failure is not moral depravity but intellectual blindness. This lens reflects the Stoic belief that evil actions result not from wickedness alone, but from the absence of true understanding. By choosing to interpret others’ faults through this framework, Marcus not only spares himself from hatred, he also affirms the power of reason as a tool for harmony. What follows is a powerful statement of interconnectedness. Marcus does not retreat into superiority. Instead, he affirms that every human, including the wrongdoer, shares in the same rational essence—a fragment of the divine. This shared rationality binds us not by blood, but by purpose. The analogy of the body is not ornamental; it is philosophical. Just as the hands or the teeth function in unity, so must human beings. Division, therefore, is not only unwise but unnatural. The person who turns away in anger commits a kind of spiritual self-mutilation. Marcus closes with the reminder that acting in opposition to others is, in fact, a rebellion against nature itself. Nature, in Stoic philosophy, is not a chaotic force but a rational order. To oppose it is to break the harmony that gives life meaning. Therefore, his final claim—that anger and avoidance are rejections of nature—is not a sentimental statement. It is an ethical charge. One must choose cooperation over conflict, not because it feels better, but because it is right. This passage remains profoundly relevant today, especially in a culture that rewards outrage and division. Marcus does not call for passivity in the face of injustice, but for a deeper kind of strength: one that recognizes every human being as a partner in the moral order, regardless of their flaws. His wisdom teaches that to maintain inner peace, we must resist the pull to become like those who harm us. Instead, we must act from our higher nature, not in spite of others, but for their sake—and ultimately, for the sake of our own integrity.

Sometimes the most rewarding victories in life don’t come from our own achievements, but from the success of someone we helped along the way. I learned that lesson firsthand when I had the opportunity to mentor my 8-year-old nephew, Tommy, and teach him how to play football. What started as simple backyard drills became a journey of growth, confidence, and connection—culminating in a state championship. But the real victory wasn’t the trophy. It was everything Tommy overcame to get there. Tommy is one of the most inspiring people I’ve ever met. He’s the only boy in a house full of sisters and has always felt a bit different—not just because of the gender dynamic at home, but because he’s also on the autism spectrum. Social interactions, new routines, and overstimulating environments can be tough for him. While he’s bright, kind, and deeply observant, the world often moves in a way that doesn’t fully understand or accommodate him. Sports, especially team sports like football, seemed out of reach at first. He loved watching games and listening to me talk about my own playing days, but he didn’t see himself as someone who could ever be part of that world. Still, one day he surprised me. “Uncle,” he said quietly, “do you think I could play football too?” It caught me off guard—not because I didn’t believe in him, but because I knew how much courage it took for him to even ask. I saw the hesitation in his eyes, the fear of failure already trying to take root. And in that moment, I made him a promise: we’d try, together. We started slow. The first few sessions were just us—no pressure, no teammates, no whistles. I introduced him to the basics: holding the football, running in a straight line, catching with two hands. At first, Tommy struggled. His coordination wasn’t perfect, and he got frustrated easily. But what stood out wasn’t his struggle—it was his determination. Even when he was overwhelmed or unsure, he never quit. Every dropped pass came with a quiet but steady, “Let’s try again.” He didn’t need to be pushed—he just needed to be believed in. Over time, our backyard workouts became a routine. I adapted my teaching style to match how Tommy learned best—breaking down steps clearly, keeping things predictable, and celebrating small wins. He grew more confident with every throw and route. More than that, he started to enjoy it. Football became his safe space, a place where he didn’t have to be perfect—just present and willing. Eventually, Tommy worked up the courage to join a local youth football team. It was a huge step for him. The idea of being surrounded by loud teammates, strict drills, and fast-paced games was intimidating, but he faced it head-on. He started off on the bench, unsure of where he fit. But slowly, the coaches saw what I had always seen in him: heart, intelligence, and a quiet kind of leadership. By midseason, Tommy earned a starting spot as a wide receiver. What followed was a season no one expected. Tommy found his rhythm. He made key catches, encouraged his teammates, and showed incredible growth—not just in skill, but in confidence. In the state championship game, with the score tied and time running out, Tommy caught the game-winning touchdown. That moment still feels surreal. I remember the silence just before the catch, and then the roar of the crowd as he crossed the goal line. He looked over to the sideline, eyes wide, hands in the air, and I saw a kid who no longer doubted himself. Winning the title was huge, but the journey there is what matters most. Tommy didn’t just overcome challenges—he redefined them. He showed that having autism didn’t limit his potential; it gave him a unique perspective and drive that set him apart. He showed that not having brothers or a male role model in the house didn’t stop him from becoming strong, determined, and courageous. And he showed me that mentorship, especially within a family, can change lives on both sides. Helping Tommy changed me. It reminded me that patience, consistency, and love can unlock potential in ways that structure alone never could. It taught me that success isn’t about being the fastest or the strongest—it’s about showing up, even when it’s hard, and giving your best with heart. Watching my nephew transform into a confident athlete and young leader is something I’ll always be proud of. Tommy still plays football, and he still struggles sometimes—but now he faces challenges with belief instead of fear. He’s even talked about helping other kids like him someday. And I have no doubt he will. Because Tommy’s story isn’t just about football—it’s about possibility, and the power of one person believing in another.

If I had the opportunity to create a class that every student was required to take, it would be called Resilience & Real-Life Skills. This course would be a powerful blend of emotional intelligence, practical life skills, and mental health awareness—designed to prepare students not just for exams, but for the unpredictable, sometimes overwhelming reality of adult life. While subjects like math, science, and history are vital, many students leave school without knowing how to budget their money, cope with failure, communicate effectively, or manage stress. These are skills that shape not just a career, but a person’s overall quality of life. Resilience & Real-Life Skills would be a class that teaches students how to stand on their own two feet—mentally, emotionally, financially, and physically. The class would have six core components: emotional resilience, financial literacy, communication and conflict resolution, time and energy management, mental health foundations, and physical well-being. Each of these categories targets a real-world gap that many people struggle to fill long after graduation. Emotional resilience would focus on dealing with setbacks, rejection, pressure, and grief—teaching students that failure is not the end, but a part of growth. Financial literacy would cover essentials like budgeting, credit, debt, taxes, and saving. These are often overlooked in traditional education, yet they’re critical to building a stable, independent life. Communication and conflict resolution would help students learn how to express themselves clearly, listen to others, and navigate disagreements in relationships, work, or everyday situations. This unit would involve role-playing real-life scenarios, such as confronting a roommate, breaking bad news respectfully, or negotiating with an employer. Time and energy management would move beyond basic scheduling, teaching students how to prioritize, avoid burnout, and make room for what really matters. With so many young people overwhelmed by the pace of modern life, this skill is increasingly important. Mental health would be another major pillar—one that emphasizes emotional self-awareness, stress management, and how to recognize when you or someone else needs help. In today’s world, knowing how to support mental well-being is just as important as knowing CPR. Finally, the class would include basic physical health practices—understanding movement, nutrition, sleep, and recovery, all customized for busy lifestyles. What sets Resilience & Real-Life Skills apart is that it wouldn’t be lecture-heavy. Instead, it would be hands-on, discussion-based, and real. Students would create personal budgets using mock paychecks, write a short eulogy to reflect on what matters most, prep a week of meals on a budget, and role-play difficult conversations. The goal wouldn’t be perfection but confidence—leaving the course with the knowledge that, no matter what life throws your way, you have tools to handle it. In the end, we teach students how to pass tests, but we rarely teach them how to face life. Resilience & Real-Life Skills would close that gap. It wouldn’t just prepare students for college or careers—it would prepare them for life. And in my view, that’s the most valuable education of all.

I am a dedicated and hardworking individual currently serving in the military, where I’ve learned the value of discipline, commitment, and resilience—qualities that I now bring to my academic journey. My experience in the military has taught me how to lead by example, overcome adversity, and work effectively under pressure. These skills have carried over into every area of my life, especially my pursuit of higher education. Balancing military responsibilities while attending college hasn’t been easy, but it has shaped me into a more focused and driven person. My interest in kinesiology stems from my deep desire to help others improve their health, mobility, and overall quality of life. As a service member, physical readiness is essential, and I’ve seen firsthand how injuries, poor movement patterns, and lack of proper rehabilitation can negatively affect someone’s performance and confidence. My goal is to earn a degree in kinesiology and eventually work in physical therapy or sports medicine so I can support individuals—especially veterans, athletes, and active-duty personnel—recover from injuries and regain strength. I want to use my education to empower others to move better, feel stronger, and live healthier lives. Receiving this scholarship would greatly ease the financial strain that comes with pursuing higher education while serving in the military. Though I am proud to serve my country, it is still a challenge to balance the cost of college, military commitments, and personal responsibilities. This scholarship would allow me to reduce the financial burden on myself and my family, giving me the freedom to focus more fully on my academic goals. With less financial pressure, I could invest more time into my studies, participate in internships, and gain hands-on experience that will prepare me for a successful career in kinesiology. It would also allow me to take part in community outreach programs, campus organizations, and peer mentorship opportunities that align with my values of service and leadership. Your support would not only be a financial blessing, but also a recognition of the effort I’ve put into serving my country and pursuing my education with integrity and determination. I am committed to using this opportunity to its fullest potential, and I plan to give back by helping others through my future work in rehabilitation, athletic performance, and physical therapy. Ultimately, my mission is to use my military experience and kinesiology education to make a meaningful difference in people’s lives—especially those who have served. With your help, I can take the next step toward that goal, and I would be honored to have your support on this journey.