Tag Archives: Reflection

On My Mind

Drifting

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I can’t seem to move from the floor, even though there are plenty of other places to sit. As a rule, I enjoy sitting on the floor, but this isn’t a particularly comfortable spot. The day is grey and while I had an idea of what to do with it when I woke up, any desire to follow through seems to have vanished. There’s no real reason for it, but there it is.

When the French press was empty, I made a cup of tea and stood at the balcony door, watching the trees move in the wind, looking out into a distance that I could reach by foot in just a few kilometres. The idea had been to head out there, not because it’s a nice day but because it’s something to do.

But to be honest, I’m tired of finding things to do just for the sake of something to do. I enjoy my time at home, but I also enjoy purposeful activity, and that was noticeably missing. There’s enough to do for the sake of diversion, but doing itself was not the point. And besides, tomorrow is likely to feel like today and the chores could get done then. Maybe there will be a greater sense of urgency.

But urgency is not the same as purpose, and purpose seems to be in short supply at the moment. Our trip to Peru was a life dream to fulfil before we embarked on other life dreams. And I guess I’m feeling a little dream-shy at the moment. What’s to say that the new dreams aren’t snatched away, too?

One could argue, we’ve lived through a pandemic and come out the other side. Isn’t that evidence enough?

One could argue, it’s too soon, take your time, life will settle back to normal. 

Both true. Neither especially comforting.

So I’m sitting on the floor, writing this instead of going out to – what? Be out. Just to be out. Because being out there is certainly more fulfilling than being in here.

On My Mind

Cancelled

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There were enough signs that aligned (or didn’t) that we knew before we admitted we knew: We would not be travelling to Peru as we planned. It was 4am when we first broached the subject and 11am when we made the decision. We’d booked the trip six months earlier and had talked about it for at least six months before that. But the universe just didn’t turn the way we needed it to turn.

We cried, realizing we were giving up on a dream. There will be other dreams, of course, but dreams are the things that grab hold of us and that’s what makes them so hard to let go.

Over the subsequent days, I realized that I was still sad. I woke up in the mornings wishing I were still asleep, not ready to face yet another day here, when everything I had been looking forward to was somewhere else.

We’ve gone out every day and watched spring coming into full force. I’ve cooked some nice things.

My favourite area in Weimar is the forest close to our flat and I brought my journal there one day. It helps me breathe a little more easily.

When life doesn’t go according to plan, it provides us all sorts of opportunities to realign and readjust. This is a chance to look at my own behaviour and actions in the face of a disappointment and behave differently next time. That’s real life, and there will be a great deal more of it that does not go according to plan.

It its own messy way, that’s what makes it beautiful.

Education

No Straight Lines

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Beginning at the parking lot and continuing along the walking trail leading to my favourite climbing spot are whimsical painted stones giving life advice. One that I particularly like reads, in translation, “The crooked tree enjoys life. The straight tree becomes a board.”

I have to smile every time I see this modified teaching from Daoist philosopher Lao Tzu. Indeed.

Consider an individual who carves their own path versus one who unquestioningly follows a straight line. Think of creatives, often revered for their skills, who report having had difficulty fitting in. There are whole communities of “alternatives” who are so similar to one another as to not be “alternative” at all. As an educator, I find this important to keep the spectrum of difference in mind in working with students. To some extent, I need them to “play the game” of school because of the way society is structured, but there is wiggle room between adherence to instructions and stamping out individuality.

I can see my life path reflected in the saying, too. I spent my childhood, adolescence, and young adulthood occupied with, out of a combination of intrinsic and extrinsic factors, what I was “supposed to” be doing. I had a plan and followed it, pretty predictably, until I didn’t. When I stopped the relentless, goal-oriented drive towards some imagined end, I realized that I didn’t actually want what the end had come to symbolize. I’d foregone the opportunity to “take chances, make mistakes, and get messy” in the words of Ms. Frizzle, everyone’s favourite science teacher, and came a little late to self-discovery.

But I got there, which is what had me in the forest climbing rocks in the first place.

This particular sign is placed so that you catch a glimpse of it on your way into the forest and see it full on when leaving. A little something to think about on the drive back home. I walked that way once with a friend whose oldest son is a good example of the crooked tree. He does not fit into any model called typical and things are hard for him that are not hard for everyone. But he can carry on a conversation like an adult, has genuine interests, and is afraid of nothing. My friend and I stopped together at the tree. Neither of us needed to say any more.

Thüringer Wald, Bad Tabarz, Germany – April 2024