I've got some nice backlog too. Stuff I took pictures of that I want to write about and post from months and months ago. But for now it's just a wave and a wink. I'll be starting up my internship with a fourth-grade class come Tuesday. That's intimidating. But I won't have classes of my own at Antioch until somewhere around mid-January, so the first few weeks should be kind of easy, with plenty of time to think, research, and plan.
I've noticed myself feeling a bit more busy and distracted that usual. I think this is because, for about the last month, as I've been focusing really hard on getting all the stuff done that needs to get done, I've been listening to Harry Potter on my phone as I go on walks or clean my room or such. On the one hand, it saves a bit of time, because I desperately need to take my mind off the not super interesting tasks at hand like writing up bibliographies and editing and formatting, and do fun stuff, like read great books. And I also need to stay somewhat active, to be happy, and this way I can do both. But there's just something about it that feels like my mind is overcrowded. Or too noisy.
I enjoy having a quiet head. I enjoy my time to ponder. And I feel like it is a bit of a safety measure. When I have time to quiet down, thoughts that were otherwise suppressed have a chance to bubble up. Often I'll remember things I've been wanting (or need) to do. Sometimes I'll realize I've been going about something all wrong. Sometimes I'll be confronted with some uncomfortable feelings that I then have a chance to heal. That last one certainly isn't fun, and is probably why a lot of people try to keep themselves distracted, busy, playing music all the time, checking their phone, anything to keep from having to listen to those quiet plaintive voices within.
The downside of always keeping yourself distracted is it usually means life feels shallow. If you're always busy, you never have a chance to ask yourself how you'd feel on your deathbed. You know, whether you'd be satisfied with your life or not. And if not, what would it take, what would you need to do differently, in order to feel content with how you're living your life.
That's a good question to ask. Not just once, but with frequency. At least for me, I find it helps me keep perspective--you know, not get worried about the little stuff, and really focus in on the big stuff. What's important, compared to death? Not my grades. Not what acquaintances think about me. Not my stuff, not any of my luxuries like hot water and easy entertainment.
What matters is my friends, my family. The love I've shared. The smiles I've created. The joy and appreciation and gratitude I've experienced. The suffering I've eased. The minds I've inspired. The sacrifices I've made for good and for God and for Right. The acts of kindness, to others and to myself. These things shine out in the darkness of death like stars in the night, undiminished by the void. If I approach death with these jewels in hand, I approach without fear and without regret. Without begging for a do-over, for just a little more time to make things right. Because that do-over is my life already. This remembering that I will die; it's like a version, however miniature, of a near-death experience. It puts me cheek to cheek with the reaper, and then I get to have my second chance, my extra year.
And I don't even have to beat him at a chess match.
Turn your eventual and inevitable end into inspiration to live well now and a compass to show you how.
One of my teachers has said something along the lines of this: "there are two things you should stay always aware of: God, and death."
And another misquote from memory, "I'm grateful for the fact of my death, because it has made my life possible."
Wishing you the best possible life,
Isaac
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