Freedom of Voice

Whew! That sums up how I feel after a whirlwind month of big changes-- changes large enough to create uncertainties about our not-so-distant future. But, as the dust is beginning to settle, so are my swirling emotions.  I've swept them all up into a big ol' dustpan and dumped them in the garbage where they belong. None of these emotions were serving me or my current situation. They were cluttering my thoughts and robbing me of serenity. Years ago, when interviewing for my first high school teaching job, the principal expressed some concern that I would be able to handle the kids due to lack of experience. He also wondered how I would manage the heavy workload; how I would approach the job in general. My answer went something like this: I am currently training for a half marathon, not a huge deal for some, but a big undertaking for me.  I am approaching it like I approach everything in life:  I break it into manageable steps and accomplish one step ...

My friend, Helen, posted this thought-provoking poem on our writing circle page this morning: One Hundred and Eighty Degrees Have you considered the possibility that everything you believe is wrong, not merely off a bit, but totally wrong, nothing like things as they really are? If you’ve done this, you know how durably fragile those phantoms we hold in our heads are, those wisps of thought that people die and kill for, betray lovers for, give up lifelong friendships for. If you’ve not done this, you probably don’t understand this poem, or think it’s not even a poem, but a bit of opaque nonsense, occupying too much of your day’s time, so you probably should stop reading it here, now. But if you’ve arrived at this line, maybe, just maybe, you’re open to that possibility, the possibility of being absolutely completely wrong, about everything that matters. How different the world seems then: everyone who was your enemy is your friend, everything you hated, you now love, and everythi...