Monday, April 17, 2017

On setting in

This morning I awoke with the answer to something I'd been questioning, right there--clear, written across my brain. The past few months, my life has meandered My work life has been a juggling act. Personal life, too much to chance. A 25-year relationship recently threw itself in the air and hasn't yet landed. I hold my breath a lot.

The answer that presented itself this a.m. was to accept solid options. Those weren't the exact words, but that was the gist. And whenever an answer is the first to greet me when I awake, I trust it. This morning that meant, sending off an email about a work decision. Sometimes the letting go-ness of email is a blessing. There's no addressing an envelope. No walk to the mailbox. No fingers lingering at the swinging drop panel. No space for the demon of overthinking. There's just send. Done.

I have two days before returning from Spring Break. There's prep work to do. Upon return, students will be prepped for the departmental final. That means two dense essays to work through: one by Martin Luther King on civil disobedience, the other by Sarah Pike on environmental activism. The first is clear--I don't worry about students making sense of it. The second feels far away from their own experience. They're city kids concerned with day-to-day practicality. That's not to say they don't care about animal rights and trees, but sometimes those are luxury ideals.

For a few weeks I had a photo of myself posted on the right. And with that, I was unable to write. My anonymity (false--I know) was stripped away. I couldn't write while I was there, looking at myself, looking at you. Writing doesn't come easy to me--as it hasn't for the past few years. And so photo gone. Easy fix.

A lot to reckon with last week. Jewish holidays always throw me off balance. Passover has so many deep and beautiful memories attached. I couldn't shake them while having a simple Seder with friends. There was the Seder before me; the one in my mind. Like the two essays my students and I must make sense of. One so tangible (my memory Seder) One, unfamiliar and distant.

I'll end with this. I found my painting niche. I opened an "Etsy" store and am delighting in the colors and the sheer happiness of finding my niche. Because this post feels so somber, I'm including a colorful photo and a preview of what's on sale.