I’m at that age. Yeah, that one.

You know — the one where the world has suddenly opened itself up to you with no bounds, where you’re so happy to have so much freedom but confused about what to do with it.

You want to find your passion, set goals, start working, find love, maintain friendships. You want to grow up faster but you can’t, you don’t know where to start, and the minute you get there, you worry you may have missed out on something.

Yeah, that age. Whew.

The truth of the matter is that all of these are reasonable concerns for a student fresh off his first year of college. It’s an awful lot to deal with. So many questions, so few answers. So much uncertainty, and all you hear from friends, family and advisors is: “Do what makes you happy.”

Hmm … happiness. You mean that feeling you get at Disney World when you’re nine?
Now that I’m an adult, happiness takes on a different meaning. Not a completely different feeling — I’ll admit that I’m still overcome with a rush of sheer joy every time I buy tickets to see my favorite band in concert.

Even so, happiness has taken on a different role in my life. This may seem trivial to some adults, but it probably won’t to those in my shoes.

Soul searching

Early in my freshman year, something occurred that may have speeded up my soul searching. Suddenly, I found myself a novelty.

“You’re whaaaat?”

“I’m Jewish.”

Even though several thousand Jews attend the same university that I do, I was one of only a few Jewish people in my dorm. Coming from a high school that is 40 percent Jewish, my entrance into the minority world presented something of a culture shock. The novelty was exciting.

For about three weeks.

After the glow wore off, I was disappointed; confused again. My pride in being a Jew had dissolved into ambiguity as I became unsure of, among several things, my Jewish identity. But I didn’t want to agonize over the situation. After all, I was experiencing a taste of the real world. I should be so blessed to live my entire life in a community that is 40 percent Jewish. But since I don’t, I began to have faith that I will be embraced as a fellow human being. And I was.

My realization didn’t impede my questions; it only furthered them. As I continued my questioning, I found myself becoming what I can only describe as a bit more spiritual. But it’s nothing that happened overnight.

I have always been struck by those who “found G-d” at 50. Were they walking on the street one day and heard the voice? Just like Abraham? I doubt it. How does one find G-d? He’s either there or not there, right?

Wrong.

As I began to examine the role my religious faith has in my life, I wondered whether I was using my faith as more of a cop-out.

“Why are we here?”

“Who cares! Praise G-d … the one sure thing!”

But the more I studied my thoughts, the more important this spirituality became. With so many issues of equal importance running around in my head, the seeming complexity of my situation began to surface. Or did it? Maybe things actually were becoming simpler.

As I analyzed my decisions to no end, I became frustrated. Must everyone go through this? But the answer didn’t matter. Time and time again this past year I just had to buck up and face the truth: that I don’t know the answer to any of these questions. No one does. And I won’t know the answer to many of them for many years. Maybe never!

It was through this unpleasant mental struggle that I began to realize that I can deal with all my questions. They aren’t that pressing. And if I have faith that everything will work out, then perhaps it will. My friends like to refer to this as “finally chilling out.” I definitely see it that way. But I also see it as maturing to the point of being comfortable with the unknown. And of becoming comfortable with faith.

As broad as that idea is, the more I embrace it, the more I embrace faith in several aspects. Faith in family. Faith in friends. Faith in G-d.

For all I know I may just be caught up in a post freshman-year-analyze-everything phase. Every professor I had told me to “question everything and everyone.” It may just be getting the best of me.

And I’ll be honest. I don’t go to services more often, I don’t wear a kippah and I haven’t started keeping kosher.

But the fact remains; I have found a new perspective, and may even have finally found one certain thing my life. And that one thing — faith — may be all I need to get through my “three score and ten” (G-d willing) years on this planet, faced with unending and life-altering decisions.