First Day of School

I never feel ready,
but I am.
It seems like everything
will always be new
but newness fades,
gives way to familiarity
both comforting and
stifling
and here we are again
the reoccurring
dream
of
a
dream
of
a
dream
like two mirrors
facing one another
an infinity
of repetition
until....
nothing
new happens.

Okay so that was a pretty crappy impromptu poem...forgive me, I haven't been slamming and I have written any poetry since the beginning of summer so I am out of practice. I'm also tired, but a good tired. Today was the first day of school technically. There wasn't class, but at 3:00pm all the students and their families came to visit their classrooms. I was astounded to be able to see the actual hallway walls, which I haven't seen in weeks. The hallway has been a living storage closet of emergency preparedness supplies, text books, mystery furniture and broken file cabinets. And then miraculously it all went somewhere...and the classrooms and offices that just yesterday looked like poorly organized garage sales came together, clean, shiny, and with the inviting glow cast by new smart boards, new classroom computers and books, books, and more books. I love the beginning of school, when everything feels manageable. I'm ready, ahead in my planning even after creating my design for the year and finishing my monthly syllabus.

It was awesome to see the kids again. Some I know and some are new. The ones I know seem very excited to have me as a teacher. I keep wondering if they'll feel the same when they find out how hard I'm going to work them. :) I met a whole bunch of parents and lost two name tags before I gave up on trying to identify myself. Then there was an all school picnic. My school has the best potlucks. I picked the worst time to go on a sugar detox. Saying no to all those brownies, cakes, Popsicles, and I don't even know what else really sucked, but the day was good. Tomorrow is the real first day...my first class with the fourth grade as a Spanish teacher. I feel like I should buy a sombrero. All the Spanish teachers I had before college were kind of odd. There was one who nicknamed herself la bruja (the witch). She wore witches hats (not just on Halloween) and she kept a spray bottle that she would use to squirt kids who got caught speaking English. "Ingles es kaka!" she would scream. It was very disconcerting. I don't want to be all crazy, but I do want to be different....cool, the teacher that gets them interested and teaches them well.

Quitting

I officially quit the job that sucked my soul yesterday. Even though I haven't set foot near my office since June and I've been working at my very awesome new job for almost a whole month, I didn't really have complete closure. I'm glad I waited to quit. I certainly enjoyed my bus pass all summer and as it turns out I will get to enjoy my insurance through the month of September. As I walked onto campus, I felt really awkward about the whole thing, like they would be pissed at me for not giving them more than two weeks notice or like I might have to defend or explain my decision. I was ready to say everything I haven't said, but in truth we all know why I'm leaving. I'm not really the one to keep it all hidden inside. In the end however, it was nothing like that anyway.

My boss who has made my working life somewhat miserable at times, greeted me with a smile. Then, as he invited me to sit down he asked "Well, will you be returning to us this year?" To which I said no. He asked me if I had found something else and I told him about my new position and then he effusive told me how happy hee was for me. He wished me the best. I gave him my keys and my bus pass and I was out.

It was weird, very anticlimatic, but in a good way. I am trying to think of the last time I quit something. I quit the cello in the fifth grade. I quit the guitar after my friend passed away. I quit UPS to move to Japan. But most of the hard stuff, school and whatnot, I've stuck with. And even that crappy job, I held onto it like I had no options for the longest time, when it was really making me miserable. How do you know when to quit? And then how do you do so without feeling like a failure. I feel like I failed at my crappy job. I wished I could have taken it and made it work, but then another part of me really doesn't care if I failed or not, but is just relieved that I escaped. But now I am wondering what is the next thing I'll quit and how it will impact me. Enough for now, it is a beautiful day and I have to go to tae kwon do.

History in the Making: Wishing I Were in Denver

Today I wished I were in Denver for the first time since the National Convention began. Mostly I have been both amused and swamped with the goings on of my new job. I've been so busy, I haven't had too much of a chance to even watch the convention. And today was no different. I left 4 hours later than my contracted hours and had to haul ass to Tae Kwon Do where I received my new belt. Ms. P reminded me that there is only one belt left before I try for my first black belt. It was an awesome moment and then to celebrate, I took myself out to dinner and watched Barack Obama graciously accept the democratic nomination on this the 45th anniversary of King's I have a dream speech. Watching Obama speak, I realized the difference between a dream and a vision. Dreams can fade, but when you focus your consciousness on bringing a vision to life, it has no choice but to manifest.

His speech was like every other speech he has given, charismatic, hopeful and a reiteration of the democratic party platform which seeks to end the war, end our dependency on foreign oil, green up the nation while improving health care, schools, and the economy. But adding to the brilliance of such a historic moment was the way that Barack talked about America. He didn't talk about a nameless, faceless, amorphous America, but rather gave voice to the experiences of so many of us that he has met and reach out to along this journey. He told our stories. He told our truths and reclaimed patriotism for all Americans not just pledge saying "God-fearing" fundamentalist republicans. I felt so proud to watch him do his thing. And though I recognize the responsibility we all have to really ensure that his presidency is a productive one, I am excited to be a part of the redefinition of this country. I am thrilled that even though we are far from perfect, this country, my country, has experienced enough of a culture shift to nominate (and hopefully elect) Barack Obama for president. This is HUGE.

Meanwhile today at work was a day of unexpected explosions. I love being new. Newness brings with it the freedom of not having to take sides, the freedom to ask the questions everyone else is to afraid to ask, and the freedom to view emotionally volatile situations with the lack of personal investment of an outsider. Today after several meetings, and a lot of playing hide and seek with the emergency preparedness supplies (which are in boxes all over the school), an emergency meeting was called. Teachers were furious because the administration made a decision regarding recess without discussing it with them. It was all very fascinating, especially after a kumbaya day of diversity and faculty/staff bonding to see everything go to shit over something so arbitrary. People were literally in tears and I was glad to be new enough to be able to claim neutrality. You just never know what kind of minefields you're walking through until the explosions begin.

As we sat around in a circle in the fourth grade classroom, each person talking about the issues, I realized that regardless of whatever decision was made, somebody was getting screwed. I can barely imagine being my principal, imagine being Barack. Imagine the challenge he faces in unifying a nation and leading us into a hopefully better stage of our history. If my head of school can't come up with a solution to satisfy and meet the needs of 30 teachers and staff how can Barack be expected to come up with a plan that will accommodate the personal wants and needs of entire country of totally and completely different people. I wish him luck and pray for the best.

To have loved and lost...navigating forgiveness

In my life I can practically count the minutes that I have felt friendless, there have been so few. I have been blessed with such a beautiful community of people, some whom I have known and will know for years and others whom I have known for a finite time or experience and who disappear, sometimes to reappear at a later date, or sometimes to be gone from me forever. My friends don't come with labels that tell me who will be who. We just figure these things out as we go. I have been wrong about people before. There are some people I now consider my close friends, who I never thought I'd see again or that we'd be able to maintain a sustainable connection, as well as those who have been like family to me only to leave my life for one reason or another. Those are the friends I grieve for,the one I wish I didn't have to lose, but don't always know how to re-connect with.

Jem was one such friend. All throughout grad school she was my rock, my sister, my best friend, closer to me than anyone, the person who knew all my secrets, a person whose secrets I knew and kept (keep) and who was alternately nicknamed my twin or my wife. We were so close I sometimes knew what she was thinking. I would pick up the phone before it rang knowing it was her. And then we each went out separate ways. I went to the middle of nowhere New York state to complete my practicum and she ended up in Nepal.

We were both miserable in our way. I had chosen a journey that led me to a wintry small town with only about 15 people under 30 but over 21. I became depressed and lonely and spent a lot of time processing my intense reaction to grad school. There were days were I felt mentally ill or insane with the strength of my emotions.Even though I managed to build a small community of unconventional friends there, I missed the intimacy Jem and I shared. I missed having a best friend who got my stupid jokes and didn't have to ask me why I was crying. She was someone who simply knew me. And at that time in my life I desperately needed to be known and taken on my own terms. It can be really tiring breaking in new friends.

Meanwhile she had her own experiences which I won't disclose, as they are not my story to tell. When she returned from her adventures, she was physically and mentally depleted and very ill. She asked all of her friends for some time and space and that we not contact her until she felt ready. I waited a full six months before finally breaking down and sending her a birthday card. I didn't really expect a reply, but I got one and she seemed even worse than before. Shortly there after she chose to end our friendship. There were a lot of reasons, which out of respect for both of our privacy, I won't get into, but the end result was me feeling totally blindsided and abandoned by someone I had trusted and loved more than anyone.

I didn't see her for a year and when I did, it was a total accident. I didn't even know what to say to her. She acted like nothing had happened. We were both present for the graduation of some mutual friends and even as she sought me out, she never mentioned what had passed between us and I was still too hurt to do much more than tactfully keep my mouth shut. I had wanted to yell at her, to cuss her out for having the audacity to just walk back into my life and try to be the friend she had long since stopped being. I'm not that great with ambiguity and knowing that I wouldn't cause a scene that might spoil someone else's moment she deliberately kept near me, yet never really gave me the closure I had been craving. Since then, more than a year and a half has passed and I found out today that she is now married.

My first reaction was to be surprised...okay jaw droppingly stunned (you just kind of have to know her to understand how unexpected this is). Then after getting a little more context, I couldn't help but laugh because he sounds absolutely perfect for her. And then I felt happy to know that she is happy again and healthy and well. My only twinge of sadness came from not being able to be a part of her good. I guess when you really love someone, even when the shit doesn't work out or you can't be a part of that person's world anymore, there is some part of you that always wishes them well. Is this forgiveness? Well if anything I think I might have finally forgiven myself for failing as a friend (I know I didn't actually fail, it just felt that way for a very long time). Why is it always so much easier to forgive other people (even people who really burnt you) than it is to accept that you are less than perfect and might need to forgive yourself?

I've had all these weird processing moments lately, including a dream about the big round headed loser (and I'm not saying that out of malice, it's just how I've come to think of him) in which we saw each other again and he seemed really happy to see me, but we never actually spoke. Shoshana says that is my sub-conscious saying I forgive him and that while I can recognize that some part of me still loves him,I am blessed because I am free from the need to go down that road again. We've had closure (and make-closure, and re-break-up closure and damn how much more of that do I really need when we've both already kind of moved on?) So here's to moving on! But with friends it is so much more complicated than with boyfriends. I'm totally comfortable saying I forgive the big round headed loser, but I don't ever want to see him again.

Today I realized I do want to see Jem again. I probably won't. I certainly have enough going on with school starting in less than a week and all the other happenings in my life without adding any ex-friend drama to the mix, but I do irrationally wish we could be friends again. I know even if were able to talk through the last two and a half years it would never be the same, it could never be the same. The question is could I ever even trust her again after such an abrupt and shitty end to such a special and intense friendship?

What makes you trust someone? How do you know they won't screw you over? Why is it easier for me to trust women than men when I have been way more brutally and emotionally scarred by women than men? These are the things going through my mind on this beautiful windy day. As I make new friends and re-connect with old friends and do this whole sporadic dating thing, I am trying to be authentic about who I am. with that comes a certain amount of vulnerability. I want to be open and not hold onto past hurt, but I feel a bit of trepidation. One definition of insanity is doing the exact same thing and expecting different results. So how can I be as open and sincere and willing to love and be loved as I have been in the past and not get my heart broken? How can I be this new person that I am evolving into and still be true to who I have always been? I am working on this. I don't have any definite answers other than knowing that I don't regret a moment of my friendships and (even more surprisingly) of my past romantic relationships. They happened, parts were amazing, parts sucked, and then they ended, but it was worth it. They say scar tissue is the strongest tissue in the body...maybe you have to be exposed to pain to get strong enough to really love and be loved sustainably.

Escapism at it's blood-suckingest

During grad school, I often felt klaustraphobic between the massive amounts of homework, the group work, class, my two jobs, and the responsibilities included in starting up two on-campus organizations. I was stretched thin and living in a dorm with walls so thin I could hear my classmates' snores surrounding me.I never felt alone and sometimes all I wanted was to escape. Having no car and living in Vermont during winter and even worse "mud season" meant escape was often a physical impossibility. So I had to use my mind.

I have always loved reading, but when you have to read a minimum of 50 pages of textbooks a night, trying to follow a complicated novel is out of the question. I found a much needed relief in young adult fiction. The books were just juicy enough to want to read them and just easy enough to be able to do so quickly without really interfering with school work. I became hooked on Tamora Pierce, working my way through the Lioness Quartet and on to the Immortal Series and of course Keladry's books.

Trickster's Choice and Trickster's Queen became my favorite. I also read all the Harry Potters, all the Charlie Bones, and re-read all my favorite Madeline L'Engle books from A wrinkle in Time to A House Like a Lotus. Though I have a lot more time now than I did then, I still love young adult novels. It's a guilty pleasure which has become kind of about research as well because I would really like to finish the one I started writing several years ago. I digress.

My latest series, which I purchased at the Vegas Airport, is Twilight by Stephanie Meyers. There are four books, the first of which is soon to be a movie, and I love them all. I am not really that into Vampires. In fact that is why I didn't read this book sooner. I kept picking it up...it's been prominantly displayed everywhere... and I kept thinking, this is going to be totally predictable. The main character is a white girl named Bella who is wimpy and bad at sports, and so not the type of heroine I like to see in my books...but I am happy to say I mis-judged her. She has hidden depths and hidden talents and so does the book. It's not what I thought it would be. In fact I liked the first book so much I bought and read all four and it was well worth it. There are legends and shapeshifters, but somehow Meyers manages to avoid the whole fluffy unicorn fantasy land trap and writes from such a down to earth, small town perspective that you can really get into the characters.

My last three recomendations come from my trip to Powells in Portland. I LOVE POWELLS even if I do get lost there and spend way too much money everytime. While losing myself in the stacks I came across Magic Lessons, by Justine Larbalestier, another dark series about three teenage magicians. Set both in New York and Australia, the books chronicle a strange story of how their magic unfolds and could possibly lead to madness. This was also un-predictable and much creepier than I origiannly suspected, but worth the read.

If you want something a little more real and can take a little sadness, Looking for Alaska, by John Green was absolutely brilliant, poignant,and very well written. I won't spoil the plot. And last but not least, my favorite book of the summer, with the exception of Breaking Dawn, the last book of the Twilight series, was by Carolyn Mackler. It's called The Earth, My Butt, and Other Big Round Things and the fat girl does not get skinny....and I love it! (I also read her second book Vegan Virgin Valentine...totally great as well) Happy readings.

Red Stripe...the road to danger belt

Today I tested for my red stripe belt in Tae Kwon Do. It took me several months to get my blue belt, so I was kind of surprised to feel ready after just two months to try for my next belt, but I did and Mrs. P confirmed this. As summer is traditionally a time of lighter populations in both the kids and the adults classes, we had a combined test. I came in feeling good...a huge difference from my last two tests...and I left feeling good (also a difference).

I felt proud, not just of myself for representing my knowledge of the techniques well (or at least with minial mistakes), but I also felt proud of the other people in my school. As the second highest ranked person testing today, I had a long wait before it was my turn and as I watched everyone from the white belts through the blue stripes, I could see the improvements. I could see my own journey as a martial artist reflected. As a white belt, I felt so awkward in my own body. Every stance and every block, and even most of the kicks and punches felt totally foreign whereas now, while I still have challenges like trying not over rotate my turning side kicks and making sure my wheel kicks are level, I feel balanced and strong. I feel confident that if it were absolutely necesary I could thorougly kick someone's ass...and that is a great feeling. Assuming I did as well and I think I did (I'll findout on Monday), I will soon begin preparing for my next belt...red belt, which is the danger belt because it is the last belt before the first black belt...and that close to black belt you should be pretty dangerous.

This part of my journey is all about refining the basics, sharpening all my techniques and perfecting my self control. We all had a good lesson in self control today when one person kicked another below the belt. This was shortly after another person kicked the other during a no-contact display of one steps. They were both higher ranks and should've had better self control, but that not withstanding, it was still a good test.

Meanwhile, I spent this week settling into my new job. I think I am done with my back from Vegas funk because I am actually excited for the school year to begin. I like my new co-workers. And now that I am mostly over my aversion to having to be some place at a set time everyday, I am enjoying my new job. Everyday is different. In addition to teaching, I also support the Admissions team (which is only a one person team), the Academic team, and the main office assistant, so I have a variety of different things to do. What TKD reminds me is that while not everything I have to do is intuitive right now, with time I'll get better. I can already see that I will be well suited to this position. I guess it's just all about patience and consistency.

The Labyrinth

Call it a post-Vegas hang over, a back-to-work funk, whatever it is I have been cranky and out of sort since coming back...which is funny because I was actually kind of relieved to come back. There are only so many shows and so much ringing one can stand. But regardless I have been kind off balance and the one thing that seems to ground me and put me back on track recently is going to the Center for Spiritual Living...so me and Shoshana and surprisingly Mz Blu went, but I still didn't feel right.

Sunday was one of those days I just wanted to go home and be a troll, but I had promised Taus, my favorite tae kwon do ninja, that I would accompany her to a full moon meditation and blessing for leos. She said there would be a labyrinth. Well, I grew up in the 80s so I immediately pictured a mansion with a huge hedge maze...something David Bowie would feel comfortable riding a unicorn through. I was a bit disappointed at first when we rolled up to this lady's house where there was no possibility of anything so grandiose. The second thing I noticed is that Taus and I were the youngest women at the gathering by a decade or two (easily more than that). It was like coffee hour after the 8:00am service at the Episcopal church, lots of chatty old white people. My irritation increased as I had to answer for the fifth time "No I don't work at the Hospital, I'm a teacher," and so on and so on. Chit chat can be so tedious at times.

But as we worked our way to the back yard, I took a deep breath and tried to ease away from my negativity. The yard was fenced in and on the left side was the labyrinth, a circular growth or low furrowed plants that made a path switching back and forth around hairpin turns to the center which was filled with stones, shells, and trinkets. It wasn't what I had pictured, but it was nice and as we sat down in a circle I automatically began to center. One of the women had brought some singing bowls that were wrapped in yellow carrying cases like tiny jimbes. The singing bowls look kind of like the tops of cake plates only they have long handles and you hold them so the open side is up. They are played with a stick, but not like a drum or a gong, you simply roll the stick around the edge and it begins to resonate, not unlike a tuning fork. The lady had brought 3 different bowls and they each played a different tune. It was very soothing.

I found myself kind of fascinated by the coven of older women. I say coven, but they weren't witches or anything, just very unconventional in their spiritual believes. The discussion revolved around meditation and astrology and lots of stuff I am mostly topics I think of as new age. The singing bowls were so neat. The lady who brought them explained that singing bowls come from the Buddhist tradition. They are usually made out of some kind of special alloy, until not too long ago when someone figured out that crystal could re-produce the same sounds and that as a living organism the sound from this particular kind of bowl could evolve. She showed us the inside of one bowl and described how at some point when the crystal was still growing and forming, it had broken, but that it had healed itself. On the bottom there was beautiful strange pattern of discoloration that marked the scars. She says that one patch of regrowth is what causes that particular bowl to have such a warm tone. It struck me as poignant, the idea that scar tissue could make you stronger and richer.



We settled down to the task at hand...the labyrinth. Another lady began to talk about the tradition of labyrinth and I realized that it reminded me very much of how CSL teaches prayer.

There are three steps we've been working on for spiritual treatments: Recognition, Unification, Realization, Thanksgiving, and Release. In the first stage you recognize God, then you acknowledge that you are one with God, a part of the whole universe, then the realization is that thing you are praying for, be it good health or joy or whatever is already your reality, so then you say thanks and send that out into the universe. It's a very different way to pray after years of getting on my knees and begging forgiveness for my sins and asking permission to be blessed. This isn't a negotiation. I don't feel like I have to cheapen myself by playing let's make a deal.."I'll be a better person if you just heal my Grandma, please God". It's more like..."There is a God, I am a part of that God, as a part of God there is no joy that is denied me....I know my grandma is healthy whole and healed, this is my word and the word of God. That's Great and so I am very thankful for this truth. I
release it into the universe knowing that all is well." That's a a very simplified way to put it, but you get the idea.

Well, with labyrinth, the idea is that the center is love. As you make your way towards it you hold a trinket in your hand and say your prayer, then you release it into the love (the universe) and go out the same way you came in, all the while giving thanks. I picked a beautiful blue stone that looked like a jelly bean. One of the ladies blessed me with rose oil and some of the other ladies played the singing bowls. I was the first into the labyrinth and as I walked the narrow path between the green under bush, slowly and with a lit candle in one hand and my stone in the other, I thought a prayer for grace. I realize that lately I have been pretty crappy at embracing change...even the good changes...and there have been many, mostly good changes as of late. So I left my fear, my defensiveness, and my anger with a candle and my stone in the center of the labyrinth. And as I came out, I felt so much lighter, and so much more human. We sat in silence, the soft grass beneath our feet, the lightening foreboding but distant in the sky and held a space for hope, joy and community.

Afterwards there was a lovely potluck and an indoor meditation the preceded the blessing of the leos. There were quite a few of us and at the end everyone sang Happy B-Day. It was a beautiful present despite my original reluctance to see it as such. Thanks for putting up with my stank attitude Taus. Much love.