Where Shall I Begin?

When I first thought I should start blogging, I became at once exhilarated and paralyzed.  I felt excited to think I could have sole control over something creative that could easily be displayed online, even if I was the only one who ever looked at it or cared.  At the same time, I was overwhelmed by how to go about doing this thing.  It's what writers should do, and if I'm a writer, I should do it.  I had to think about all these fascinating, intellectual things to write about.  I obsessed over how I would ever get anything down perfectly enough to feel it worthy enough to be viewed by others.  God forbid I be boring.  Or shallow.  Or grammatically incorrect.  Or politically incorrect.  Or whatever.  So here it goes.  This is where I will begin--at the beginning.

It seems fitting that I share one of my favorite poems, "Wild Geese," by Mary Oliver.


Wild Geese

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about your despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting --
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.


This poem is so brilliant and beautiful and wise.  And I see purple when I read it.  This poem flows so sweetly, reminding me that I am human and I must pursue this path of dreams.  I cry when I read this poem aloud.  A spike of love and tenderness catches in my throat when I read it silently.  There is something about the conflation of despair and majestic nature that brings solace.  This poem just speaks to me.  No matter what state I'm in or where I am in my life, this poem gives me perspective.  I can be hard on myself, and Oliver's recognition that "the world offers itself to [my] imagination" reminds me that my life is what I make it.  This is true for all of us.  So often, I hear people complain about their situation in life.  They cry, "Why is this happening to me?" and "What did I ever do to deserve this?"  Instead of choosing to face the world with a sense of empowerment and truth, which is that people have control over how they view a situation, these people allow themselves to be victimized by pessimism.  Instead of seeing life as a series of forces that act upon us, why not see ourselves as powerful beings who can choose to respond in ways that invite positivity, goodness, gratitude, and grace.  Negative words and ugly thoughts only beget more negativity.  It stands to reason then, that positive words and thoughts of goodness beget more positivity.

My life has taken a turn.  I taught high school English for 16 years.  And then I went on sabbatical.  And when my year of unpaid leave was up, I resigned from my job--a stable career with benefits and retirement and 8 weeks off in the summer.  I didn't know what was next--where I was going or what it would look like when, or if, I got there.  "Arriving" is such a precarious thing.  "Departing" is so certain, so final, so marked by the unknown that it often resembles death.  I knew this, and I leapt anyway.  I jumped right off that precipice as if I had the wings to support such a foolish flourish into flight.  And now I'm here.  I can't say for certain that I never would have started a blog if I'd stayed in the classroom.  But I do know that as a teacher, I was constantly frazzled, sleep-deprived, spirit-drained, and I found it impossible to look beyond the stress of the moment.  I often found myself saying (aloud and to myself), "My job is interfering with my life!"

So, did a year off answer my prayers?  Yes.  And No.  I sit before my computer today writing my first blog post. !!! I feel perhaps a little too proud of this.  But you have to understand that it took me about 6 hours to decide on my blog name.  I wanted it to be something I really loved.  And as it turns out, I'm not always as original as I'd like to think.  I discovered this again and again as I Googled potential names and watched them pop up as names of those who have come before me.  I continued to think that I've got to become a whole lot more clever if I'm going to muster up the courage and confidence to keep this writing thing going.  But the important thing is I am keeping this writing thing going.  I'm familiar with the wise words that offer "If you keep waiting for just the right time, you will never begin."  Beginning is the first step.

This year I've also made great strides in my writing.  My memoir is almost finished.  Also, I'm preparing a poetry manuscript for publication.  I've read more books than any other year except when I was in graduate school (I don't remind myself often enough that if I made it through grad school while teaching full-time, I can do more than I think).  I've also had much time (too much, perhaps) to think about...stuff.  I've had time to realize that I might not be the best person to dictate my daily schedule.  Maybe I need a bell after all?  I understand that having all the time in the world does not mean I will return to my former gym rat status.  Oh, when I was younger and had knees that actually worked properly, I lived for my workouts!  I've come to fully grasp the truth--that we make time for that which is most important to us.  I have spent numerous hours watching television, contemplating going to the gym, running errands, getting started on the day by doing something other than drinking my morning (afternoon) coffee and wondering how productive I'll actually be today.

So, other than recuperating from 16 years of stress and workaholism, what have I really accomplished this year?  I've come to realize that I miss working.  That might sound crazy.  It sounds crazy to me every time I say it.  I miss feeling like I'm a useful, productive member of society.  I was good at my job.  I had invested so much time, sweat, tears, and heart into my students and teaching.  My career was my life.  And that, I see now, was a blessing and a curse.  Ultimately, I'm glad I quit.  I needed a break before I broke.  But now, I'm wondering if I might need something more than nothing to keep me at my best.  Certainly, the grass is always greener on the other side.  This proverb proves to be a true paradox.  Once you make it to the other side, the other side is no longer the other side.  This year of reflection has given me a chance to be "on the fence," so to speak, and I can honestly say, that the grass is green on both sides as long as you water it.  Watering the grass means having balance.  You cannot run on empty.

I do not intend to return to the high school classroom, but I left teaching on a good note, and I will look back on my career with fondness, love, and respect.  If I had stayed, I would never know this feeling--the feeling of gratitude for my teaching job that was growing so oppressive.   I had to know that to get to where I am.  Now, I am pursuing my writing dream, and I'm learning more about myself.  I no longer feel like a hamster in a wheel or a chicken with my head cut off or a rebel without a cause whose job is interfering with her life.  This time off has been invaluable.  I am proud of myself for taking the leap, even when I knew I might need wings I did not have.  I am happier than ever as I consider jobs, hobbies, and volunteer work I might pursue.  I might learn how to sew or how to make silver jewelry or how to play the guitar.  I recommend this to all of you--to those of you who feel frantic in your day-to-day lives.  Take a step back.  Give yourself a chance to hear "the world...announcing your place in the family of things."  Take a year, if you can afford it.  Can you really afford not to?