What if someone just explained that all your real world problems are illusions of circumstance?
And what if you listened?
Seriously, what problems do you have right now?
Think about it. If you get the root of all problems, they boil down to external forces usually not in this moment anyhow.
I don't think he's into me any more. Or. I'm worried about not making my deadlines. Or. I'm not getting this job I applied for, I know it etc. These are ALL external and ALL not in the present and maybe all bullshit anyway, I have no way of knowing, but that's not my point.
Worrying about the future or the past is futile. The past is gone and the future will be made up of what we can influence and what we can't. . . if you have influence, use it instead of worrying about it, if you don't, well, it's useless to worry about things you can't influence. . . I can't make him like me, I can't force someone's hand to promote me, etc. Total waste of the moment to worry about it.
If you're still with me, and here's where my ego started to fight me, so if there are no real problems, only circumstances, only a list of things we can influence and things we simply can't change right now, there really only is this moment, then there is no real anxiety or fear.
It's all something we just do to ourselves really. Maybe for comfort, maybe for complexity, maybe we make problems because we enjoy trying to solve them or because more people identify with sadness than bliss? I'm not at 'why' yet.
(I heard once that you can't put stress in a jar. I think I get that now.)
What if you could bring yourself to believe that it really all within you?
Would you feel weightless bliss? Flee it? Fight it? Would you miss how much self induced pain made up your own identity? Would you miss complaining about the future, lamenting the past, blaming the world for your unhappiness?
Would you choose happiness, misery, indifference? What would you feel in this moment if it was completely your call?
What if you searched yourself and found that you knew it all along?
I think it's time to go home.
Monday, September 19, 2011
Monday, August 29, 2011
My Next Project(s) - My New Journey
First of all, I want to take a moment to express my gratitude that everyone I know came out pretty unscathed (though perhaps inconvenienced) by this weekend's hurricane. Though not an ideal way to start winding down the summer, I hope everyone perhaps got to spend a little extra time with loved ones, even if it was just on the telephone making sure everyone was safe and sound, or maybe got in some much needed rest and relaxation (as there wasn't much else to do).
For me, I started working on getting rid of some of my clutter, in my home, my mind, and my spirit. I am finding it easier to part with my possessions. I am actually overwhelmed by how much I have. What a silly "problem" to have carried with me all this time. There are some wonderful families, friends of my own family, who have so little. They have graciously accepted to help me unload some of my problem. Two huge bins of clothes and shoes, a baby step toward progress. I couldn't tell you 10% of what's in the first bin I put together, and yet I held on for so long to these meaningless things, hoarding an inconvenience.
And the change I'm finding. So much change! I don't even use cash most of the time. How did I get so much change? (I admit, I dislike change a great deal. I don't like the way it smells, I don't like the way it feels, I don't like how heavy it is at the bottom of my purse. I could go on, but this is a positive entry so I'll get back on topic.) I have a neat idea with it (that I ran passed one of my besties and got the penguin seal of approval) so I'm actually kind of excited to see how much I can find. (Stay tuned for that, you'll be involved if you'd like to be!)
As for my mind, well, it was letter writing time again. I'm not going to go into what they said (or I would have just blogged them) but let's just say that at this point if I had 5 minutes in an elevator to speak my peace to someone, most likely the conversation would revolve around some question like "do you believe in karma?" or "what's your favorite curse word?" or "how about we get a beer?" Everything I felt compelled to say I've said. Consequences may follow, but, freedom is rarely free after all.
And spiritually, maybe you have noticed the 81 more days title, or maybe not, you're here and reading so either way, I started a new journal based around the 81 verses of the Tao Te Ching. Like many spiritual people out there, I've read the book that is fundamental to what I believe, but I haven't exactly READ it. Not like I could read it for 100 years and get all of it, it's the Tao Te Ching and not getting it is seemingly (to me anyway) half the point, but, I think there are a lot of lessons in there that are low lying fruit, just waiting for me to consume them for spiritual nourishment. So I've started to read a verse a day and journal whatever comes naturally. I was planning on starting this a while ago, but I might have been too determined and waiting wasn't filled yet. I might not make it far, I'm not going to push it, an unnatural effort defeats the purpose really. It is my intention for today. And I'm spiritually just fine with that.
Namaste
For me, I started working on getting rid of some of my clutter, in my home, my mind, and my spirit. I am finding it easier to part with my possessions. I am actually overwhelmed by how much I have. What a silly "problem" to have carried with me all this time. There are some wonderful families, friends of my own family, who have so little. They have graciously accepted to help me unload some of my problem. Two huge bins of clothes and shoes, a baby step toward progress. I couldn't tell you 10% of what's in the first bin I put together, and yet I held on for so long to these meaningless things, hoarding an inconvenience.
And the change I'm finding. So much change! I don't even use cash most of the time. How did I get so much change? (I admit, I dislike change a great deal. I don't like the way it smells, I don't like the way it feels, I don't like how heavy it is at the bottom of my purse. I could go on, but this is a positive entry so I'll get back on topic.) I have a neat idea with it (that I ran passed one of my besties and got the penguin seal of approval) so I'm actually kind of excited to see how much I can find. (Stay tuned for that, you'll be involved if you'd like to be!)
As for my mind, well, it was letter writing time again. I'm not going to go into what they said (or I would have just blogged them) but let's just say that at this point if I had 5 minutes in an elevator to speak my peace to someone, most likely the conversation would revolve around some question like "do you believe in karma?" or "what's your favorite curse word?" or "how about we get a beer?" Everything I felt compelled to say I've said. Consequences may follow, but, freedom is rarely free after all.
And spiritually, maybe you have noticed the 81 more days title, or maybe not, you're here and reading so either way, I started a new journal based around the 81 verses of the Tao Te Ching. Like many spiritual people out there, I've read the book that is fundamental to what I believe, but I haven't exactly READ it. Not like I could read it for 100 years and get all of it, it's the Tao Te Ching and not getting it is seemingly (to me anyway) half the point, but, I think there are a lot of lessons in there that are low lying fruit, just waiting for me to consume them for spiritual nourishment. So I've started to read a verse a day and journal whatever comes naturally. I was planning on starting this a while ago, but I might have been too determined and waiting wasn't filled yet. I might not make it far, I'm not going to push it, an unnatural effort defeats the purpose really. It is my intention for today. And I'm spiritually just fine with that.
Namaste
Saturday, July 16, 2011
Suggestions welcomed!
I know this is way past the original 71 days. I'm thinking of beginning again. 1 day at a time right now though. Maybe I should have done that in the first place.
At any rate, to continue on my original path away from emotional opacity: I'm sad today. There's very little rhyme or reason to my wistfullness. It just, well, kind of is I guess. But although surely transient, it's persistent. My head hurts, my ears ring, my limbs are heavy. I'm sleepy. My usual bubbly smile is all sticky soap rings on the floor. The circles are imperfect. The colors, once each with its own story, become this garbled narrative of sorts. Don't get me started on the stickiness.
So now what?
I'm not sad often, at least without reason. I never really have time for generalized sadness. Melancholia is a process that typically gets shelved due to my impatience and lack of real attention span. But, here I am, with this flu of lugubriousness, sulking in bed, achy, cranky, and in no mood to deal with anything outside of a dream sequence.
What do I do for myself? What's the chicken soup here? Where's the catchy instructional "feed a cold, feed a fever"? (I'm part Italian) I check my first aid kit of panacea.
Shopping: (Read - Why my apartment looks like a storage facility.) "I don't want anything."
Ice Cream: (Read - Why I was once almost 300 pounds.) "Not hungry."
Ducks/Birds: "The car isn't starting." "We can walk." "Yeah, you get right on that."
Girlie time: "You'll make me leave the house. I know that trick."
(You'll notice I left off beer/liquor. It is intentional. I only drink when I'm happy or rebelling. Drinking firmly pins heart to sleeve, making it a poor choice to deal with negative emotions.)
I'm trying to be kind to myself, but really, I'm not making it easy. I guess when you have a child's joy and an old soul, sometimes you get stuck with things like a teenager's stubbornness. But what do I do? How do I lovingly convince myself to either let me know what's wrong or to stop wasting this beautiful day in bed sulking in my old Pink Floyd shirt and slipper socks?
Or maybe I don't. Maybe I lovingly say "this too shall pass" and simply go back to bed. Perhaps.
At any rate, to continue on my original path away from emotional opacity: I'm sad today. There's very little rhyme or reason to my wistfullness. It just, well, kind of is I guess. But although surely transient, it's persistent. My head hurts, my ears ring, my limbs are heavy. I'm sleepy. My usual bubbly smile is all sticky soap rings on the floor. The circles are imperfect. The colors, once each with its own story, become this garbled narrative of sorts. Don't get me started on the stickiness.
So now what?
I'm not sad often, at least without reason. I never really have time for generalized sadness. Melancholia is a process that typically gets shelved due to my impatience and lack of real attention span. But, here I am, with this flu of lugubriousness, sulking in bed, achy, cranky, and in no mood to deal with anything outside of a dream sequence.
What do I do for myself? What's the chicken soup here? Where's the catchy instructional "feed a cold, feed a fever"? (I'm part Italian) I check my first aid kit of panacea.
Shopping: (Read - Why my apartment looks like a storage facility.) "I don't want anything."
Ice Cream: (Read - Why I was once almost 300 pounds.) "Not hungry."
Ducks/Birds: "The car isn't starting." "We can walk." "Yeah, you get right on that."
Girlie time: "You'll make me leave the house. I know that trick."
(You'll notice I left off beer/liquor. It is intentional. I only drink when I'm happy or rebelling. Drinking firmly pins heart to sleeve, making it a poor choice to deal with negative emotions.)
I'm trying to be kind to myself, but really, I'm not making it easy. I guess when you have a child's joy and an old soul, sometimes you get stuck with things like a teenager's stubbornness. But what do I do? How do I lovingly convince myself to either let me know what's wrong or to stop wasting this beautiful day in bed sulking in my old Pink Floyd shirt and slipper socks?
Or maybe I don't. Maybe I lovingly say "this too shall pass" and simply go back to bed. Perhaps.
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
A lesson in fear, transcendence, and kick ass boots.
A few weeks ago, give or take a month and a half, it was a very typical day and I get a text or a phone call or something from Karen. "There's this band thing such and such date and I need you."
There's always a band thing and somehow I'm always needed. Being my classic commitaphobe self, I give her a classic 'yeah, that'll probably work' and go about my day.
The next day comes "Can you make it to this band thing? I need you." This went on for a few days before I got the impression this might be something bigger than she was letting on. . . so I inquire for more details.
"It's a motorcycle ride for Wounded Warriors and I got guys willing to take us on the back of their bikes."
"What?? Where? Will there be highways? What if I fall? Do we know these people? Are you crazy? etc."
"I've never either. It will be fun."
I knew if I didn't talk myself out of it, if I didn't run all the scenarios, if I didn't picture being run across the asphalt like fresh mozzarella to a cheese grater that I would be peachy. I just had to get myself in the space between my thoughts and push all the negative out is all. People do this all the time and are fine! Probability dictates that I would be too. Focus on that, perhaps. Or start praying for rain.
The days inch closer and I'm half thinking about it, half going about my life. I tell a few friends who pretty much all think I'm bailing. Raghu, a drinking buddy of mine, had said that it was tough enough getting me to ski for the first time and though he could feel that I truly wanted to do it, he also felt that when it came day of that my spirit would be willing but my anxiety would push me to bail (like snowboarding) or would turn on me and make me sick (like skydiving, sinus infection, 102 fever). I agreed with him and realized that, although somewhat shameful, what he said was shared with the utmost love. I also told myself that I was so tired of being that person that his shining a light on my past 'failures' only made me want this success that much more. He smiled wisely and returned to his beer.
In the following days Karen and I ran into some guy at a bar who thought it would be great to tell us horror stories as we prepared for our maiden voyage. "Wear leather so when you fall you don't lose all your skin, and big boots so you don't chew up your ankles, and make sure you have a full face shield because even if you don't fall rocks will hit you in the face, and practice sitting still or you will fall over. . ." I chose at this point to bite my tongue and pray for rain. . .
It didn't rain.
It's the morning of and I am super excited. I'm up early, workday early on a Sunday. I've got these adorable sunglasses as to not take a rock to the eye, my leather jacket and a cute sling bag. I recall this awesome pair of boots I used to love but got too small around my calves at one point. I dig them out and put them on (I'm not sure if I remembered why I retired them) and as I zipped them I knew I was ready for this. I'm sure to some this doesn't seem like a big deal, and that's more than cool! Introduce me to new things to conquer! To me, this was big, I was ready to do something I've wanted to do for ages.
Karen follows me out, the GPS fails several times, it starts to drizzle as we realize we might not make it. I'm heartbroken. And in that moment I realized that it was time. It was finally something I would be wholeheartedly disappointed not to do. We drove 'em like we stole 'em and made it to the starting site.
vrooooooom vroom vrooooom vroooom vrooom. The Earth shook beneath my feet and my heart followed the tempo. I'm introduced to Ron, who is gracious enough to let a newbie scream in his ear for 45 minutes to an hour. He is, in my estimation, is about 6 1/2 feet tall and 400 pounds of solid tattooed motorcycle man. I take a deep gulp and wonder what he must think looking down at me with my huge goofy sunglasses, my blonde pigtails, my attempt at biker clothes and Sheamus's puppy head sticking out of my bag.
"It's my first ride." I smile.
He offers me his hand to help me onto the bike. His touch is confident and reassuring yet paradoxically gentle. I asked him where I should hold on and grabbed hold of him before he could answer "the seat, if you'd like". And off we went. I felt like I had been on the back of his bike riding these roads for years.
I believe in all paths to the Divine. I'm blessed that I typically find it in some fairly unorthodox places. I found this moment going over the Pulaski (I think) feeling the wind on my face, looking out at the water, and thinking about nothing but just trying to somehow absorb as much as I could of how weightless and free I felt in that moment. I could feel the leather seat, the lining of my jacket, the texture of flannel clad Ron, the padding of my helmet, the lightness of the air, the wear and tear on the road without analysis or thought. It all just was. He looked back in the mirror to check up on me and I felt him relax a little after seeing what I imagine was reminiscent of a child's smile beaming across my face, pig tails in the breeze.
He said when we arrived that I did extremely well for a first time rider that I didn't shift my weight, or seem anxious, or hold on too tight, or any of the tell tale signs. I was honored by the compliment. He told me I now had a great story for all of my friends. And so I do.
And so I do!
Share Your Divinity,
Kimberly
There's always a band thing and somehow I'm always needed. Being my classic commitaphobe self, I give her a classic 'yeah, that'll probably work' and go about my day.
The next day comes "Can you make it to this band thing? I need you." This went on for a few days before I got the impression this might be something bigger than she was letting on. . . so I inquire for more details.
"It's a motorcycle ride for Wounded Warriors and I got guys willing to take us on the back of their bikes."
"What?? Where? Will there be highways? What if I fall? Do we know these people? Are you crazy? etc."
"I've never either. It will be fun."
I knew if I didn't talk myself out of it, if I didn't run all the scenarios, if I didn't picture being run across the asphalt like fresh mozzarella to a cheese grater that I would be peachy. I just had to get myself in the space between my thoughts and push all the negative out is all. People do this all the time and are fine! Probability dictates that I would be too. Focus on that, perhaps. Or start praying for rain.
The days inch closer and I'm half thinking about it, half going about my life. I tell a few friends who pretty much all think I'm bailing. Raghu, a drinking buddy of mine, had said that it was tough enough getting me to ski for the first time and though he could feel that I truly wanted to do it, he also felt that when it came day of that my spirit would be willing but my anxiety would push me to bail (like snowboarding) or would turn on me and make me sick (like skydiving, sinus infection, 102 fever). I agreed with him and realized that, although somewhat shameful, what he said was shared with the utmost love. I also told myself that I was so tired of being that person that his shining a light on my past 'failures' only made me want this success that much more. He smiled wisely and returned to his beer.
In the following days Karen and I ran into some guy at a bar who thought it would be great to tell us horror stories as we prepared for our maiden voyage. "Wear leather so when you fall you don't lose all your skin, and big boots so you don't chew up your ankles, and make sure you have a full face shield because even if you don't fall rocks will hit you in the face, and practice sitting still or you will fall over. . ." I chose at this point to bite my tongue and pray for rain. . .
It didn't rain.
It's the morning of and I am super excited. I'm up early, workday early on a Sunday. I've got these adorable sunglasses as to not take a rock to the eye, my leather jacket and a cute sling bag. I recall this awesome pair of boots I used to love but got too small around my calves at one point. I dig them out and put them on (I'm not sure if I remembered why I retired them) and as I zipped them I knew I was ready for this. I'm sure to some this doesn't seem like a big deal, and that's more than cool! Introduce me to new things to conquer! To me, this was big, I was ready to do something I've wanted to do for ages.
Karen follows me out, the GPS fails several times, it starts to drizzle as we realize we might not make it. I'm heartbroken. And in that moment I realized that it was time. It was finally something I would be wholeheartedly disappointed not to do. We drove 'em like we stole 'em and made it to the starting site.
vrooooooom vroom vrooooom vroooom vrooom. The Earth shook beneath my feet and my heart followed the tempo. I'm introduced to Ron, who is gracious enough to let a newbie scream in his ear for 45 minutes to an hour. He is, in my estimation, is about 6 1/2 feet tall and 400 pounds of solid tattooed motorcycle man. I take a deep gulp and wonder what he must think looking down at me with my huge goofy sunglasses, my blonde pigtails, my attempt at biker clothes and Sheamus's puppy head sticking out of my bag.
"It's my first ride." I smile.
He offers me his hand to help me onto the bike. His touch is confident and reassuring yet paradoxically gentle. I asked him where I should hold on and grabbed hold of him before he could answer "the seat, if you'd like". And off we went. I felt like I had been on the back of his bike riding these roads for years.
I believe in all paths to the Divine. I'm blessed that I typically find it in some fairly unorthodox places. I found this moment going over the Pulaski (I think) feeling the wind on my face, looking out at the water, and thinking about nothing but just trying to somehow absorb as much as I could of how weightless and free I felt in that moment. I could feel the leather seat, the lining of my jacket, the texture of flannel clad Ron, the padding of my helmet, the lightness of the air, the wear and tear on the road without analysis or thought. It all just was. He looked back in the mirror to check up on me and I felt him relax a little after seeing what I imagine was reminiscent of a child's smile beaming across my face, pig tails in the breeze.
He said when we arrived that I did extremely well for a first time rider that I didn't shift my weight, or seem anxious, or hold on too tight, or any of the tell tale signs. I was honored by the compliment. He told me I now had a great story for all of my friends. And so I do.
And so I do!
Share Your Divinity,
Kimberly
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Coming back to center
OK, so it has been a while. I own that I fell off track in the middle, came off my meditation, my readings, my me time, my progress, all of it. I just put it on coast for a few weeks. What's important is that I'm back, and even if this makes 71 days become a few weeks longer, it's an important lesson to learn that I can fall, get up, brush off, and luckily make a couple of adjustments and start again. And so I shall.
Today was an amazing day! My meditation this morning was my first of a bunch dealing with Surrender. This morning I thought about my walls and how I can get them lowered safely without any real casualties. I've done a little bit of talking about this in a round about way, but one of the big walls I have protects me from embarrassment and shame. I have a lot of anxiety surrounding the controlled exposure of my faults. I think that's somewhat natural. My flaws are mine to give and I work very hard to not air out anyone else's dirty laundry, so that respect should be reciprocal. But I was going about this all wrong though, because it seemed the higher I tried to build this wall the more shame I felt. As it turns out, vandals have been kicking my lower bricks right out from under me. That could have been catastrophic. But I was building up so tall that I never looked around me, until it was almost too late. Yielding nothing is just as devoid of control as yielding everything. I'm going to allow a wider range of people to see me for who I really am. I have to. I have to surrender that I am safe and that the right people won't use me as a weapon against me. And if I invite the wrong people in, if I'm attacked with myself, I have to just pick up my things and go as soon as I recognize it. If I get very hurt, I have recently learned how to work human crutches. (Love you, guys) No shame for being wrong, no embarrassment for the past, I have to dust myself off no matter what the interim from peace and health and keep on my journey with dignity. I have renewed my commitment to my health and my livelihood, to my quest for bliss, to a love so deep and abundant my knees barely support me from all the weakness, to friends who love me unconditionally and who are willing to shout that to the world, especially on days where my own faith in that waivers, for people who I can allow in and not have trepidations that pictures of my messy apartment will end up on the 6 o'clock news and for loved ones who won't point and laugh if it does happen.
Today, that is my surrender.
And thank you for everything!
Namaste,
Kimberly
Today was an amazing day! My meditation this morning was my first of a bunch dealing with Surrender. This morning I thought about my walls and how I can get them lowered safely without any real casualties. I've done a little bit of talking about this in a round about way, but one of the big walls I have protects me from embarrassment and shame. I have a lot of anxiety surrounding the controlled exposure of my faults. I think that's somewhat natural. My flaws are mine to give and I work very hard to not air out anyone else's dirty laundry, so that respect should be reciprocal. But I was going about this all wrong though, because it seemed the higher I tried to build this wall the more shame I felt. As it turns out, vandals have been kicking my lower bricks right out from under me. That could have been catastrophic. But I was building up so tall that I never looked around me, until it was almost too late. Yielding nothing is just as devoid of control as yielding everything. I'm going to allow a wider range of people to see me for who I really am. I have to. I have to surrender that I am safe and that the right people won't use me as a weapon against me. And if I invite the wrong people in, if I'm attacked with myself, I have to just pick up my things and go as soon as I recognize it. If I get very hurt, I have recently learned how to work human crutches. (Love you, guys) No shame for being wrong, no embarrassment for the past, I have to dust myself off no matter what the interim from peace and health and keep on my journey with dignity. I have renewed my commitment to my health and my livelihood, to my quest for bliss, to a love so deep and abundant my knees barely support me from all the weakness, to friends who love me unconditionally and who are willing to shout that to the world, especially on days where my own faith in that waivers, for people who I can allow in and not have trepidations that pictures of my messy apartment will end up on the 6 o'clock news and for loved ones who won't point and laugh if it does happen.
Today, that is my surrender.
And thank you for everything!
Namaste,
Kimberly
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
4/27/11 - One Verse
I don't believe in coincidence. That's not new to this journey, I never really have. I strongly believe that the Universe is always looking for new ways to communicate with us, to get through all the drama and other assorted crap we surround ourselves with in this world. Sometimes it's subtle, a wink, a glance, a nod from across a crowded room. Sometimes it's a billboard on a desolate Midwestern highway.
For the more subtle suggestions, I have a rule. If I hear about the same artist/book/movie etc from 3 different people within a 10 day period and I think I will have some interest, I give it a go. This is especially true of music for me, the Divine speaks to me in music all the time. Universe - one verse. No surprise. Yesterday the Universe presented me with Adele. 4 times now, 7 days. So I download her 2 studio albums. It turns out I loved her before I had a name to the voice.
Interestingly enough, the song I am most familiar with on the two albums, was the song that I think I was meant to hear again at this very moment in my life.
Should I give up or should I just keep chasing pavements
Even if it leads nowhere?
Or would it be a waste even if I knew my place
Should I leave it there?
Should I give up or should I just keep chasing pavements
Even if it leads nowhere?
This journey for me has been all about getting back into reality. Well... that's not exactly it. There are so many things I've held on to falsely, so many aspects of life I considered truths that really aren't. And so many things I once held incredibly dear that I'm working on making not matter as much. Although everything is meant to be as it is, and every moment and every person and every lesson in my life has shaped my today and there's not a line of my life story I would erase even if I could... I'm spent a hell of a lot of time chasing pavements. A hell of a LOT of time! Incredibly recently, I've committed to giving up, but there was still a nagging "should I?". I'm taking this gift as confirmation that this is the right path for me at this time. Why else would this one verse make it through all the noise, into my open ears and my hungry soul.
If you haven't heard her music (I live under a bit of an indie rock, so she's probably old hat to most of you) let me contribute to the suggestion. It may speak to you as well.
Share your Divinity,
Kimberly
For the more subtle suggestions, I have a rule. If I hear about the same artist/book/movie etc from 3 different people within a 10 day period and I think I will have some interest, I give it a go. This is especially true of music for me, the Divine speaks to me in music all the time. Universe - one verse. No surprise. Yesterday the Universe presented me with Adele. 4 times now, 7 days. So I download her 2 studio albums. It turns out I loved her before I had a name to the voice.
Interestingly enough, the song I am most familiar with on the two albums, was the song that I think I was meant to hear again at this very moment in my life.
Should I give up or should I just keep chasing pavements
Even if it leads nowhere?
Or would it be a waste even if I knew my place
Should I leave it there?
Should I give up or should I just keep chasing pavements
Even if it leads nowhere?
This journey for me has been all about getting back into reality. Well... that's not exactly it. There are so many things I've held on to falsely, so many aspects of life I considered truths that really aren't. And so many things I once held incredibly dear that I'm working on making not matter as much. Although everything is meant to be as it is, and every moment and every person and every lesson in my life has shaped my today and there's not a line of my life story I would erase even if I could... I'm spent a hell of a lot of time chasing pavements. A hell of a LOT of time! Incredibly recently, I've committed to giving up, but there was still a nagging "should I?". I'm taking this gift as confirmation that this is the right path for me at this time. Why else would this one verse make it through all the noise, into my open ears and my hungry soul.
If you haven't heard her music (I live under a bit of an indie rock, so she's probably old hat to most of you) let me contribute to the suggestion. It may speak to you as well.
Share your Divinity,
Kimberly
Saturday, April 23, 2011
Academic Thoughts - 4/23
I stood in front of my bookshelf today and thought about a feeling I've had for a couple of years now. I miss school.
I miss those moments of clarity when I finally grasped a concept that had previously been foreign to me. I remember the dance I did when I finally figured out the chain rule, or learning what a derivative really means and letting out a huge "ohhhhh" in the middle of Physics lecture, or when my ex borrowed my textbook the first weekend of my 10 credit summer of organic chemistry and made me flash cards for all of the reactions I'd need for 1 and 2 so that I wouldn't feel overwhelmed. They could have been cue cards for a Swahili news program at that time, but I remember when the symbols started taking on actual meaning. What an amazing feeling that was!
I miss that tests had correct answers and that, with the exception of marks on essays, grades were pretty black and white. I especially miss multiple choice tests. I miss educated guessing, or choosing B and moving on when I was completely stumped, or being able to skip a challenging question and being able to return to it if time allowed.
I miss structured learning, that sense of security (validity notwithstanding) that grasping the material in the textbook meant mastery of the subject; that once there was a book and a syllabus there was a very finite range that could reasonably be expected in order to succeed.
I miss curves. I miss boosts that accounted for general and widespread imperfections. I miss extra credit questions, just because. I miss trying to figure out with my classmates who broke the curve (even when I already knew it was me). I miss extra points for participation, that just showing up meant something. (Though, as an aside, I do not miss forced attendance to Friday lectures.)
I miss concretely knowing where I stood. I miss rosters with scores next to them. I miss calculating how well I'd have to do on the final to get the grade I wanted by using the weighted average specific to the class. I miss progress being as cut and dry as a single letter in thick red ink.
I miss how simple it was to be classified a "good student".
I miss the sense of satisfaction that I was working toward something rather than just floating about and waiting for the next 'something' to arrive.
I miss the perfectly highlighted page.
I miss open book tests, take home exams, papers and the one page of equations allowed in Calculus, Physics, Statistics, etc. I miss the answers all being as easy as knowing where to find them.
But, why?
There are still plenty of concepts foreign to me. I can choose my own path, my own books. I can abandon a book midway through if I so choose, or a topic entirely. I can work on my own projects, my own passions without #2 pencils, scantrons and someone looking over my shoulder to make sure I'm not cheating. I can graffiti pages in all the highlighter I choose. All of it can be important, or none of it, whatever.
In my life I've heard people saying they miss abusive relationships, addiction, crappy family environments, prison, even homelessness. I've always thought that to be insane. Who doesn't prefer freedom?
So why would I miss limitations?
Maybe because I haven't given myself a syllabus or the right learning materials. Maybe because I know I won't do the work without consequences to my inaction. Maybe I never properly learned to cope with uncertainty. Maybe I miss being externally challenged. Or maybe I'm just that tough of a grader. . .
I miss those moments of clarity when I finally grasped a concept that had previously been foreign to me. I remember the dance I did when I finally figured out the chain rule, or learning what a derivative really means and letting out a huge "ohhhhh" in the middle of Physics lecture, or when my ex borrowed my textbook the first weekend of my 10 credit summer of organic chemistry and made me flash cards for all of the reactions I'd need for 1 and 2 so that I wouldn't feel overwhelmed. They could have been cue cards for a Swahili news program at that time, but I remember when the symbols started taking on actual meaning. What an amazing feeling that was!
I miss that tests had correct answers and that, with the exception of marks on essays, grades were pretty black and white. I especially miss multiple choice tests. I miss educated guessing, or choosing B and moving on when I was completely stumped, or being able to skip a challenging question and being able to return to it if time allowed.
I miss structured learning, that sense of security (validity notwithstanding) that grasping the material in the textbook meant mastery of the subject; that once there was a book and a syllabus there was a very finite range that could reasonably be expected in order to succeed.
I miss curves. I miss boosts that accounted for general and widespread imperfections. I miss extra credit questions, just because. I miss trying to figure out with my classmates who broke the curve (even when I already knew it was me). I miss extra points for participation, that just showing up meant something. (Though, as an aside, I do not miss forced attendance to Friday lectures.)
I miss concretely knowing where I stood. I miss rosters with scores next to them. I miss calculating how well I'd have to do on the final to get the grade I wanted by using the weighted average specific to the class. I miss progress being as cut and dry as a single letter in thick red ink.
I miss how simple it was to be classified a "good student".
I miss the sense of satisfaction that I was working toward something rather than just floating about and waiting for the next 'something' to arrive.
I miss the perfectly highlighted page.
I miss open book tests, take home exams, papers and the one page of equations allowed in Calculus, Physics, Statistics, etc. I miss the answers all being as easy as knowing where to find them.
But, why?
There are still plenty of concepts foreign to me. I can choose my own path, my own books. I can abandon a book midway through if I so choose, or a topic entirely. I can work on my own projects, my own passions without #2 pencils, scantrons and someone looking over my shoulder to make sure I'm not cheating. I can graffiti pages in all the highlighter I choose. All of it can be important, or none of it, whatever.
In my life I've heard people saying they miss abusive relationships, addiction, crappy family environments, prison, even homelessness. I've always thought that to be insane. Who doesn't prefer freedom?
So why would I miss limitations?
Maybe because I haven't given myself a syllabus or the right learning materials. Maybe because I know I won't do the work without consequences to my inaction. Maybe I never properly learned to cope with uncertainty. Maybe I miss being externally challenged. Or maybe I'm just that tough of a grader. . .
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