“Teaching is not a lost art, but the regard for it is a lost tradition.” ― Jacques Barzun

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I am able to craft this entry because only 10 of 22 students came to class this morning, so I’ve given them busywork. We’re in the 9th week of 12. I’m beyond frustrated with this group, and there’s seemingly nothing I can do to motivate them anymore. Attendance keeps dropping, grades keep dropping. I don’t understand why, considering I’ve even lightened up the workload.

This is the most frustrating teaching experience I’ve had to date. I know I joke about it, I post crazy things on Facebook, but the truth of the matter is, I find this infuriating. I find it infuriating, mostly because I don’t understand the problem. I know that many of these students have come from difficult backgrounds, or school systems that haven’t held them accountable for anything. I know all of the “answers”. What I don’t know is how to fix it. I’m tired of hearing that I can’t fix years of habit in 12 weeks. So what am I supposed to do, then? Give up? Right now, I really want to. I want to tell them they are wasting my time and theirs. I’ve tried good cop/bad cop. I’ve tried sympathy. I’ve tried incentive, bribery… Now, I’m just trying to ride out the rest of the semester.

It also makes me crazy that they seemingly don’t care. The ones who are here today can tell I’m not happy. The assignment I gave them is based on the reading they were supposed to do over the break. Almost all of them are furiously trying to read those chapters in order to answer the questions. They think it’s funny. It’s like “oh shit, ha ha ha, I didn’t read.” About a month ago I made them a deal. I told them that if their grades improved in a month, I would drop their lowest assignment. I thought this might be incentive. I gave them two chances as a group and countless individual chances so far to make up missing work. Most of their grades got worse. When I mentioned this to the 10 who are sitting here today, that only two people managed to get their grades up, a few of them were snickering.

I don’t want to hear “just teach to those who want to learn.” I don’t want to hear “Well, you don’t have to go back next semester.” That isn’t the point. You can’t expect someone in my position to be okay with this kind of behavior or these solutions. No one should expect an educator to just lay down and accept mediocrity. Maybe that’s part of the larger problem. Maybe too many people in my position let them get away with this stuff. Dummy and water down the curriculum to inflate students’ grades and make them reflect more positively on the instructor/institution. I’m not willing to do that. It’s a lie. Academic integrity doesn’t only apply to students.

These are the times when it is so hard to do this job. I’ve had so few moments of brightness in this semester with this group. I just wish I understood what their problem is. I’ve asked. I’ve literally begged them to tell me what they need, what they expect. I am met with blank stares, indifference, smirks…

I don’t want to be told not to take this personally. I’m not taking it personally. I’m taking it professionally. If I stop caring, then I stop doing my job. I don’t know how to turn it off, and I don’t want to. I just hate living with this level of frustration every day when I’m supposed to be helping these students achieve a better life. But if they don’t want better, if they refuse to believe that there IS better, then what am I doing here?

onus probandi*

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As I mentioned last week, I’ve been reading The Cosmic Serpent by Jeremy Narby. Before I continued reading, I wanted to read some of the criticisms of the book, as I believe it’s important for perspective. Many of his critics use the argument that Narby’s work isn’t “real science” that it doesn’t “prove” anything. It merely chronicles his experience and raises interesting questions, but from a scientific perspective, it fails.

It made me think of two things:

  1. The discussion on heterophenomenology from back in May.
  2. Science’s burden of proof.

The Oxford English Dictionary defines that the scientific method as “a method or procedure that has characterized natural science since the 17th century, consisting in systematic observation, measurement, and experiment, and the formulation, testing, and modification of hypotheses.”

Measurable. Empirical. These are words that come with science’s burden of proof. This leads me to a question that may, in fact, change the face of my blog forever:

Will spirituality ever be met with any measurement, experiment, or formulation of proof that meets science’s standards? How would scientists ever prove “God” is God if God presented itself to them? Does the burden of proof automatically exclude the possibility that all sorts of ideas, states of being, levels of awareness will remain theories or fantasies?

Am I chasing my tail?

Let’s say a being comes to a group of scientists and says, “I am God. You may conduct any tests you wish. But I am God.” They might do DNA tests, blood work, MRIs, scans, psych evaluations, etc. All of those tests would yield the same answer: This being is not human. But wouldn’t that be where the testing ends? The being could only be classified as non-human. But there is no God test.

Suppose the being demonstrated telekinesis, mind-reading, etc. The scientists can’t measure those things (if they could, we’d have prove of how these things work, and validity of their existence), so it merely stands at “we don’t currently have the means to explain this. So it will remain an observable mystery.” We’ve already established that observable isn’t proof.

What would it take to prove that this being is God? Would God have to manipulate the knowledge store in their heads to simply “know” it? People claim to simply know things all the time. The Ashaninca claim to have learned what the plants tell them. From the beginning of time, people have claimed to simply “know” things because they were given the knowledge from a higher source. Science does not recognize these ideas as anything more than misunderstanding, manipulation, hallucination, etc.

So, the question remains: Is there any point to trying to prove that the ideas I (or anyone else) have validity among a community that is already so insular? Why do I need science to validate what I believe to be true, or even simply a possibility? It seems limiting. We’re humans. We’re fallible. Even the most brilliant of us are limited by our humanness. I find it illogical to try to fit the unknown into parameters that don’t allow it to be tested in the first place.

It makes more sense to explore ideas I find interesting or intriguing, and not worry too much about whether or not the scientific community gives it merit. I give it merit. This is my blog. These are the only parameters by which I will be governed. I am not a scientist. I’m an adventurer. And a believer.

*burden of proof

I Am an Oxymoron

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Yesterday was the first time I’d been in the gym in about three weeks. Once again, I find myself starting over. Starting over with good eating habits, with exercise, with trying to get organized on regimented on a daily basis. I gained back weight that I’d worked pretty hard to lose. I haven’t spent any time reading or writing for my blog. I have a freelance project that I probably could’ve been done with by now.  While I thought about all these things, I struggled with the idea of even getting back on track.

Again.

I feel like I’m always starting over. I find myself constantly saying I need to rethink the way I do things, the way I spend my days. Before I went back to teaching, it was that I didn’t have enough time to do everything I wanted to, because I was at work all day. Now I have too much time on my hands, and I procrastinate and get lazy.

Then I feel sad, discouraged, and guilty for not making better use of my time.

I come up with plans to get myself situated. They work for a little while, and then, here I am again, spending 5 hours on the couch watching Law & Order: SVU marathons and eating myself into discomfort.

Today I realized that I am an oxymoron.

I am ambitious, but love to be lazy.

I hate routine, but need a daily schedule.

I create a daily schedule, and then I procrastinate.

I crave order, but will let my house get messy.

I am a corner-cutting perfectionist.

If I am governed by constantly opposing forces, there has to be a middle ground. I’m not good at middle ground. I’m either 0 or 100 mph. I don’t do 55. I try. I try to keep things moderate, but there is so much I want to do, and I want to do it wholly. But I inevitably burn out, and then I accomplish nothing.

I like lists. Shopping lists, to do lists, wish lists. I like to check things off lists. So, today I decided I’m going to make a daily list of things I need to do. My workout is listed. My errands, if any, are listed. Work I want to do for myself, and work I need to do are listed. Right now I have the next several days planned out. And I can systematically cross those things off my list. I will get things done, I will feel accomplished. It’s not so rigid that I can’t move a few items around if I need to, but nothing can remain on the list for too long.

I don’t know if this will work. What I do know is I’m tired of starting over. I’m tired of feeling as though I simultaneously waste and exhaust my day. It worked today. This entry was the last thing on my list. Not every day will be perfectly scheduled. But as of late, many days have been perfectly wasted.

I do not fear change, commitment, or challenge. I thrive on these things. Perhaps I can view this not as a shortcoming, but as a challenge that calls for change. If you do something often enough for a long enough period of time, it becomes habit. If I can make daily lists a habit, then the items on the list will become habits. It seems perfectly logical in theory. Let’s hope it’s the same in practice.

Otherwise, I’ll have to start over.

lux mentis lux orbis*

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I have not continued on my journey because my path suddenly became unclear. I can’t even say there were forks to choose from; I found some of the texts I was reading redundant, uninspiring, and dissatisfying, only adding more questions, but offering no answers. But, I trusted that the answer would come, and naturally, it did.

I fortunately caught part of a podcast interview with Alex Grey, an artist and spiritualist who focuses on transcendence, the power of the human psyche, and the ideas of universal energy and connectedness. I admire his work, his ideas, and most significantly, his expression of his beliefs through his art (I have one of his pieces tattooed on my hip). I found it incredibly fascinating to listen to him so eloquently and fluidly discuss his ideas. He discussed how the imagination, the creative element of our mind can connect us to the divine, that it is a part of our brain that shuts everything else off. It cuts off our logic, our basic needs (hunger, thirst, sleep), and being creative puts us at a higher plane of consciousness—even if it’s just one step up.  Ask any of my fellow bloggers about this feeling, and they will likely whole-heartedly agree. We all go somewhere special when we are writing/creating.

The discussion also included ideas about hallucination (but in an incredibly focused, almost scientific way), and sensory deprivation to access imagination and other parts of the brain that are roadblocked by the limitation of our senses. I wrote an entry about the role of our senses and this discussion reminded  me that I initially set out to focus on our own brains/senses/bodies as the first step in this journey. And so, I will return to this idea, focusing on the apparatus that allows us to have these discussions in the first place—the brain.

Though I will eventually return to Dennett’s work, I started reading The Cosmic Serpent: DNA and the Origins of Knowledge by Jeremy Narby, which chronicles his experience with an isolated tribe in the Amazon, and how the shamans and other members of this tribe used plants to heal and, as they claim, gain knowledge. He attempts to answer how they could have possibly learned to properly combine certain plants whose enzymes, if not carefully understood, could poorly interact and even result in fatality. I expect this text to explore the continuing question of how we can know things we might not have been exposed to or taught by “traditional” means. I expect it to poke traditional methods with a stick, to continue to urge us to think beyond the concept that there is only one explanation for how we receive, process, and utilize information, and therefore expose more divinity of the mind.

Can it all possibly boil down to simple scientific explanation? While we may no longer accept notions of “divine intervention” or “messages from God” as viable explanations of what we are capable of, does this make room for alternative explanations that might explain why primitive versions of us attributed these abilities to gifts from the heavens, and modern-day us looks for the answer in a test tube? Where is the bridge?

*light of the mind, light of the world

manus multae cor unum*

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I posted earlier this week about not forgetting those in need after Hurricane Sandy devastated the tri-state area.  All week I worked toward gathering donations and supplies, and sharing information on Facebook in hopes of rallying others to pitch in.

By yesterday morning, I was completely emotionally drained. The constant thoughts of people in my own backyard having literally nothing, freezing, or spending time in shelters raced through my mind. Children with no schools to go to, babies cold and hungry. Elders completely displaced from what little they might have had. I was on the verge of tears constantly. While trips to the dollar store, packing up the donations from my own bookshelves and closets, and being in contact with others who were helping would alleviate these feelings momentarily, they would return the minute I was back to waiting. Waiting to be able to deliver. Waiting to find out where they will go. Waiting to confirm whether or not anyone will actually take them.

The needs change daily, even hourly, which I expected. But I feared having all these items with nowhere to take them. My car was packed high with bags of clothing, toys, books, and blankets. But everyone’s rules and needs were different. And the information was conflicting.

As I scanned my bookshelves for titles I was willing to part with, I saw a paperback copy of The Hobbit that I’d purchased years ago to read along with my niece who had to read it for school. I put it in the bag of donations and daydreamed that a child in need who wasn’t really interested in books would discover this, and a new love and fascination of reading would be formed. This lovely little reverie was confronted by the fear that no one would actually want books. Or any of the items we had to give.

I found myself resentful of those who seemed to be doing nothing. I would post that my friend Charlotte and I were gathering items to deliver, that we would pick up whatever anyone wanted to give. So many “likes,” but very few actual responses. These are the very same people who spend their entire summers down the shore, which is now absolutely gone. I see people passing info on, “sharing” it on Facebook, but it seemed so few were mobilizing. I was angry about it. I didn’t want recognition (that’s not the point of volunteering). I didn’t want praise. I wanted people to care and be as impacted by this as I was.  I can count on one hand the people I know personally who have done anything to help.

Yesterday morning I headed to Hoboken to pick up Charlotte. The remnants of entire lives are piled on the sidewalk, broken and moldy. Classrooms emptied in heaps from corner-to-corner, waiting for disaster crews to clear it away so they can empty even more. She said this was actually better than it was a few days ago, and a lump formed in my throat.

We visited the Hopes Community Center. I held my breath as we explained what we had to offer. I was afraid she would say no, that everything had to be new, or they weren’t taking anything right now. Instead, we were met with a tired, but very kind and grateful face. “We’ll take anything you’ve got, except kids’ clothes. We’ve got plenty of those.” Those were the words I needed.

I brought my car around to the front of the building, and the three of us unloaded. Other people standing outside were greeting us, thanking us, so grateful for what we were doing. Inside, the center buzzed with people cleaning, painting, sorting things. Rubber gloves and garbage bags abounded. The woman told us that they’d be going in today to begin sorting this stuff. We joked about the contents of the books, saying they were mostly for grown ups, and that there might be some vampire fiction in there. Charlotte giggled, “But I think there might be Hemingway, too.” I thought about The Hobbit. It could find its way into the hands of a child. Or it could find its way into the hands of someone who just needs to forget all the devastation for a while. It would do good somehow.

We talked about staying in touch, and finding out in the coming weeks what else they might need. All of the relief efforts need some time to sort through what they had so they may determine what their specific needs will be going forward. We’ll be keeping our eyes and ears open to find out how we can continue to serve our neighbors.

My anger and resentment for those who seem to not care has dissipated. Although I’d have liked to see more from the people in my immediate frame of reference, seeing all those people cleaning up that community center widened the scope. The Facebook page Help Rebuild Moonachie/Little Ferry has nearly 1,300 members. There are donations pouring in from all over the country, and even overseas. There are many of us who do care, and I am personally grateful to those people.

My next donation will be time. I wish I could help sort, clean, distribute now, but I also have an obligation to my students, and their papers are piled high. But this is far from over. The second shift of volunteers will be needed when those who are working now can no longer donate their time. The biggest need is often when the majority of the world forgets. I won’t forget. I hope you won’t forget, either.

*many hands, one heart

SANDY: Natura Nihil Frustra Facit*

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Dear New Jerseyans with Power, Heat, and Food:

Today was supposed to be a return to some degree of normalcy for me, as well as many of you, I’m sure. My college was open, my class in session. Some people went back to work. But there is such sorrow hanging over the Garden State, even as lights come back on, shelves at markets restock, and gas lines diminish.

I sat in a gas line today. If it weren’t for being in a dual-car household, I would not have been able to go to work today because I did not have enough gas to get there. Never in my life did I ever think that’d be a challenge for me. My students were sullen and exhausted. I think some were happy to be in a place with heat. Some of them still have no power. We took today to regroup, catch up, and get ready to move on. I don’t think it worked, but I didn’t know what else to do. They didn’t want to talk, and I’m not allowed to give out hugs. We felt it, though. We felt the despair. The hopelessness. The uncertainty.

There is constant coverage, thousands of tweets and posts on Facebook, and all kinds of click-with-ease ways to help the victims of Hurricane Sandy. A lot of money has been raised and it seems as though many of us are already doing our part to help out.

But I have an additional request.

As the news cycle changes and their focus shifts elsewhere, as your lights come back on, your kids go back to school, and your routine levels out, do not forget. The people who are cold, homeless, displaced will not return to their sense of normalcy by the end of this week. They will face these challenges for weeks and months. It is WINTER. Right now, it’s 40 degrees outside and we are blogging and reading from places that are cozy and warm. We’ve probably got a variety of items running at once. My TV is on while I type this on my laptop before I blow dry my hair.

DO NOT FORGET.

We have a tendency to be short-sighted sometimes. We get wrapped up in our own lives, and while we do our part in the beginning, we fail to keep it up long-term. The media will move on to something else, we’ll move on, we’ll focus on the upcoming holidays, the first one being Thanksgiving.

DO NOT FORGET.

It’s not that hard to do. Every time you go food shopping, spend an extra $5 or $10 on items to donate. Make it different types of items each week. Ask your kids what they think a boy or girl their age who is in this position might want or need. Buy packs of soap. Buy toothbrushes. Buy socks. Buy whatever that extra $5 or $10 will get you. Use the coupons you get for things you don’t usually buy. Take a few extra minutes to bring it to your local relief center. It’s minimal effort. You can even just donate $10 a week if you’re too busy to add extra errands to your routine.

We can’t forget our people. We boast and brag about Jersey Strong. We’re tough-skinned. We claim to take care of our own. Do it. Do it for the rest of the year. Do it in the New Year. Because our brothers and sisters will STILL be cold next week. Their babies will STILL be hungry next week. If you aren’t much of a philanthropist, then help the animals. Donate dog and cat food to your local animal shelters. Demand through your own actions that these people and pets get what they need. New Jersey, we finally have a chance to put our big mouths to good use. Demand that the world not forget us. Support all local businesses that are donating, too. Keep their doors open.

DO NOT FORGET.

*Nature does nothing in vain

And the Weak Shall Inherit the Earth

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America’s heart has stopped beating. And her future is bleak.

We are in the midst of an election, and we have watched our political leaders lie over and over again to each other, to us, and to the world. Debates are nothing more than pissing contests and shouting matches, and the fact-checkers tell us we can’t believe anything we hear anyway. We can’t even trust the people we’re supposed to elect into our political offices. We watch lunatics rise to positions of power, gobbling up their fancy words and their appeals to our personal beliefs. Empty promises and snake oil. But we don’t seem to care. We’ll anchor ourselves to one or two of our candidate’s beliefs and vote on that. Even if what we believe is a lie, and it’s been proven to us. That’s if we even bother to vote.

Our young people have no dreams. Kids used to dream about being firefighters, doctors, astronauts. Now they dream of being famous for no reason. The next Kim Kardashian. They want to get rich quick. They do not want to work. The mildest challenge sends them quitting, and the path of least resistance is usually chosen, but even that is not carried through. My students have mediocre powers of negotiation, and little to no determination. The do not see the value in education, and even if they do, they put themselves into insurmountable debt to earn a degree that likely won’t get them a job anyway. And that is our fault.

We are not only oversexualizing our children, we’re actively encouraging it. Taking a 4 year old for a manicure/pedicure might seem cute on the surface. But widen the scope and you’ll find middle-school age children not only know what porn is, they know the actual names of porn stars, and they aspire to be one. Our adults continue to become more and more lecherous, and our teenagers take that attention to mean they are only worth how attractive they are. Young men hope to land themselves a wealthy cougar. Teachers have sex with students. Our young people watch their parents inject, tug, lift, and dye themselves into unnatural youth, because being “old” is “disgusting.” We’ve taken the innocence out of youth and turned it into a sexually desirable quality.

Our nation’s health is at risk. We are fat. Our bodies are clogged with gunk and poison and chemicals. Our little ones are facing unprecedented rates of obesity. Children with high blood pressure and cholesterol. Babies with type II diabetes and heart trouble. Our children are too big to run and play. Yet, our leaders continue to stonewall efforts to change things such as the quality of food served in schools. How is that even a debatable issue? Why doesn’t everyone want our children to eat healthy food while in school?

Even if we don’t care about ourselves, don’t we care about what we’re leaving behind? We’re saddling our children with mountains of debt, insurmountable health problems, and shaky-at-best futures because we allow them to coast through school, we indulge, we baby them. We’re killing them, and we’re allowing them to not care about anything. Fat and ignorant and irresponsible is entertaining, right Honey Boo Boo? Right, Bayou Billionaires?

Where is your heart, America? We have the capacity to band together as a nation, but our attention span is short. September 11, 2001: Never Forget. But we have forgotten. We have forgotten why we banded together in the wake of that tragedy, and we’ve forgotten now. The generations before us always talked about giving a better nation to our children. We stopped doing this. We stopped caring about what we’re doing now and the impact it will have later. We’re guaranteeing the future America will be fat, broke, lazy, and sick. And they’re not going to give a shit about it because we haven’t taught them why they should.

**In response to the Studio30 Plus writing prompt “heart”.

cura personalis*

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For the past two weeks, I have been operating at what I believe to be an optimum level, enjoying all of my energy, my positivity, and my good mood. This morning, during a lecture I gave, the world holistic came up. We were looking at the writing process in a holistic way. Aristotle’s phrase “the whole is greater than the sum of its parts” came to my mind, and the spark occurred. I have been feeling greater than the sum of my parts.

For the rest of the day I let it simmer. How do I qualify my parts? I thought about my physical health, mental health, and emotional health. Within those components are smaller systems or components: diet, exercise, and sleep; satisfaction with work, financial attitude; family and relationship stability, creative endeavors, stimulation. During the past two weeks, all of these systems aligned. Some were already in good shape, but the others were either operating at less than prime, or dead altogether.

I attribute a good part of my revelation to the wellness program I’ve been participating in, and a class I’ve been taking called Body Flow. It’s tai chi, yoga, and pilates, and it really forces me to slow down. The beginning is all breathing and focusing. The other practices are mixed in, and we end with meditation. I have an incredibly difficult time stilling my mind. I try to focus on my breath, but I wander. I’m comfortable and my body is all noodly and warm, but my mind struggles to follow suit. I know over time, I’ll get there and I’ve come to appreciate this class so much, it’s now a priority.

I started thinking beyond myself to our larger society and I wondered why we are so resistant to viewing ourselves in a holistic way. Eastern cultures believe in holistic views of life, but Americans don’t operate this way. We don’t treat ourselves as holistic beings that need many things not only to thrive, but to survive. I have spoken to several people this week who have said things such as “I just wish I could…” or “I’d have liked to pursue that, but…” We neglect even the urge inside us, screaming that we need something different or the system is going to crash.

I am baffled by how disinterested we’ve become in caring for our bodies and minds. I don’t understand how we got here. We are so willing to poison ourselves, and then the fitness industry, the media, and countless others take advantage of our desperation and feed us gimmicks and lies. But I don’t blame them. We’re fish in a barrel. We get to a point of desperation to begin with, when we shouldn’t.

Why is it so hard for us to take care of our whole selves? Shouldn’t it be instinctive? Why have we gotten to the point where we are expected to work countless extra hours without compensation? We feel guilty for taking vacation time. We go to work sick and weak because we’re terrified we’re going to lose our jobs. We eat to entertain instead of nourish ourselves, and then we get sick because it’s garbage. We’re so down on our lives and ourselves, the idea of exercise is not freedom, it’s torture. This is a perversion of how we’re meant to live. Yet, if you talk to people who are in this predicament, they know better. They know they eat poorly, work too much, don’t take care of themselves, don’t read instead of watching TV, don’t do more than daydream about pursuing goals or ideas.

We settle. We settle for health problems and mediocre lives, and we mock the solutions. We settle as though we do not fear running out of life, as if our days are not numbered or limited. We make fun of people who do yoga or eat raw food. We settle for feeling bad about ourselves and then we sneer at people who have healthy bodies. Maybe we see no value in having a certain quality of life. Or, maybe we just don’t care.

* care for the whole person

ad astra*

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Today marked the beginning of a very important transition for me.  I made the decision to return to teaching as my profession a few weeks ago, but since that decision was made, I’ve noticed just how significant this decision is, and the impact it’s had on my own little universe.

The last editing project I worked on discussed, in part, how everything in the universe is connected, that energy comes in both dark and light forms, and there has to be a balance in order for us to be healthy. I have seen this idea in various forms, called various things, but it is a belief that is held by people from all walks of life. Motivational speakers talk about being positive and believing in yourself to fulfill your goals (self-esteem). Religious leaders talk about bringing happiness peace to the lives of others in order to fill your soul and live a good life (charity/karma). New Agers talk about the positive forces in the universe and how too much negativity can make your entire world unstable (vibration or collective consciousness).  It runs throughout so many ideologies and ways of life, and therefore makes me wonder if there’s not something real to this.

Almost from the moment I gave notice at my editing job, new opportunities presented themselves. A friend reached out to me the next day and offered me contact info for an online tutoring gig. I sent my information to the coordinator, and within two hours, was sent the paperwork to begin training for that. A day or two later, I received an email from that same institution asking me if I was interested in teaching there. The tutoring coordinator had sent my resume to the English department. They sought me out. Yesterday I had a phone interview, and 27 minutes later, I had another teaching job.

The afore-mentioned post about teaching led me to another prospect. Through the natural discourse in the comments section, a bloggy friend and I decided to collaborate on what may grow into quite a business venture. In the meantime, I’m doing some work for her, and she for me—an opportunity neither one of us expected and one that could really take off in the long-term.

I find myself feeling so grateful for all of this, wishing I had someone or something to actually thank. It seemed as though the moment I let go of the one thing that was weighing me down, holding me back, and preventing me from doing what I’m doing, it all came flocking to me. My editing job was not all bad—I had good coworkers, and I love the editing process in general. But the overall vibe, feeling, morale, whatever you want to call it was negative. We were frustrated. There was little communication. And though we felt comfort in venting to each other, were we essentially filling the air with nothing but… badness?

How is it that, quite literally, within moments of severing that tie, giving it a true ending, all of these opportunities came to me? Each of these is significant for my long-term professional goals. Coincidence is not a comfortable explanation. One might argue that I became more proactive when I knew my time at the full-time gig was limited. I’d agree with that if I pursued all of these opportunities. But they came to me.

So, my friends, what do we call this? Karma? Fate? Destiny? Divine intervention? Have the stars aligned on my life plan, and this is all cosmic timing? Am I being rewarded? Guided?

Whatever the reason, as I sit here in the quiet of my home, enjoying the not-quite-summer-not-quite-fall breeze, I know for certain that there is a sense of peace in my heart, a sense of ambition in my mind, and a sense of fulfillment in my soul. One door closed so that all the others could open. Call it what you will. Let me know what you call it. For now, I’m just going to be grateful for it.

*to the stars

“Boredom’s not a burden anyone should bear.” ~TOOL

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15

For the past month or so, I’ve been working on a wellness program, which is designed to help me achieve total wellness and balance through understanding good and bad food behaviors, and how all aspects of life fit together to help (or hinder) overall health and wellness. I’m learning how stress and other factors can lead to behavior that satisfies and comforts in the immediate, but damages and sets back in the long-term. I’m learning the difference between a “diet” and a lifestyle, and that these changes are meant to become habitual, long-term, and a way of life. Ultimately, I want to learn how to optimally feed the machine (the body) so that it can function best for all of the other aspects of life (love, work, exercise, creativity, etc).

In July of 2011, I had to go back to editing full-time. Being an adjunct professor means work is not guaranteed quarter-to-quarter or semester-to-semester. I was editing part-time, but without a guarantee of three classes, I couldn’t pay my bills, and I did not want a roommate. I was still teaching in the evenings, but I was back to the 9-to-5 gig every day. And, although I knew it was the right and responsible choice, it wasn’t a choice I really wanted to make.

This past summer, I did not teach. There were no classes for me. Enrollment was down. Trying to be positive, I convinced myself it was okay, that I needed the break anyway. I’d miss the money, but it’d be worth being free of the extra work.

I lied.

I found myself going through the motions every day. I still did a good job, still put effort into my work, but I didn’t love it. There was no satisfaction. It was day in, day out, routine. Yes, the books change, the design of each book is fun and different, but ultimately, from 8am to 4pm, I was pretty unhappy. It spilled over into other hours and days. I often didn’t want to work out, and I felt tired all the time. Sunday nights particularly sucked. I didn’t want to go to bed because tomorrow would come.

Geekface and I talked about our options, and I told him that I really wanted to go back to teaching, that I couldn’t do this anymore. His response: “I know. Go for it. Get back to teaching.” He could see what it was doing to me, and both of us are big believers in doing what makes you happy. He just made a major career change after 15 years in IT. He gets it. And me. The plan was for January 2013.

On a whim, I reached out to my Department Chair at the college I’d been teaching at for the past three years and asked if there were, by any chance, any day classes available. Depending on the location and circumstances, I might be available to take them. I figured it was worth a shot.

While convincing myself it would be totally fine if I had to wait until January, I obsessively checked my college email account for an answer. I tried to find a comfortable space between being practical (it’ll be fine if you wait until next year, it’s only 4 months) and desperately hopeful (PLEASE OHPLEASE OHPLEASE!!!!).

As of September 24th, I’ll be back in a classroom teaching several sections of English Comp I. I completely revamped my syllabus, updated the readings, and am so excited to bring new material into my class. The relief and excitement I feel about this is practically euphoric—a far more healthy euphoria than the one pizza grants. I feel this surge of energy, excitement, passion, enthusiasm—all things that have been lost for so long.

I am so grateful that I was able to fall back on editing during a tricky time, and that gratitude, no matter how personally unhappy I may have been, will never wane. I just don’t belong behind a desk. Not teaching at all this past summer really clarified that for me. It’s interesting what deprivation teaches us. Deprivation of bad things yields short-term suffering, but positive long-term results. Deprivation of good things makes one slam down an entire pint of Ben & Jerry’s with room to spare.

I firmly believe that things happen when they are meant to, that opportunities and obstacles arrive on the scene when you need them. I’ve known for a long time that I love teaching, and that’s what I’m meant to do. But I fell into a routine. I stopped fighting for that goal. I stopped trying to find ways in, ways to make it THE job rather than A job. I’m working toward making connections beyond the one college. I even landed a gig as an online writing tutor at another school—a good step toward building a new bridge.

This was a good lesson for me. Although I made a good, smart decision to take the steady job, I nearly fell victim to complacency. It is corrosive and damaging. The instantaneous change I feel overall tells me that this must always be my profession. It must always be the main focus. If I need to get a side gig, that must be the side gig. Teaching will always come first.

With some ambition, creativity, and bridge-building, I’m hoping to ultimately land in a full-time college teaching job. They are few and far between for those of us lacking a PhD, but they are out there, which means they are not out of my reach. But they will not find me. I have to strive to make them my prospects.

January 2013. It’s going to happen.