At least it's helping me sympathize with the other students. Still, I would really prefer it if I could create a classroom where both I and the kids look forward to coming to enough that they don't want a snow day. I admit, I may be the only one in my graduate class that was actually disappointed when we had a snow day, so perhaps that's kind of rare. But no, the other people want to be there too. They're just more exhausted than me, probably.
There is a distinct difference between us and my kid's though: we graduates are self-selecting. Nobody is making us go to graduate school. That's a huge difference, and so maybe requires a different dynamic.
I talked with some dear friends yesterday, and one of them is a newish high school teacher (that is, she taught college students at graduate school, but this is her first year with high school) and it was very soothing to hear how she was also exhausted and a little crazed and occasionally staying up till 1 am playing Word of Warcraft because it was all just too much and she needed a break, an escape from it. This was soothing because I felt the same way (in general. No WoW for me these days, but I did just binge on Avatar: the Last Airbender) and it was good to know I was at least not particularly inept and overwhelmed, but just within fairly normal parameters for such things.
I continue to hold that this is an excellent training ground for learning to hold balance and equanimity amid a highly unbalenced environment. But at the moment I've been tipped over and dunked, to be expected as one learns to walk the tightrope over the pool, and I'm feeling the water. And in this analogy the water symbolizes feeling anxious and overwhelmed and generally like a rabbit that has just heard a coyote howling nearby.
I've got lots of resources and strategies to get back on the rope, and I appreciate the practice and my continual improvement, but the fact remains that being cold and wet is not fun. (which makes for good motivation to stay balanced.)
This analogy breaks down or gets unnecessarily complicated, with me carrying weights, or having fishing lines hooked into me that are pulling me off the tightrope when I add the fact that me being anxious etc. is really a bunch of old thinking habits and patterns and self-beliefs that knock me down. Feeling unworthy, or not good enough, or unlovable.
I suppose, in the tightrope-over-the-pool analogy, I'm afraid of clowns, and right now I'm walking through a pool full of inflated clowns. I keep getting freaked out and falling off. When the pool was not full of clowns, I was fine. But really, if I want to stop having this issue, I need to get over my fear of clowns.
That is, my issues with self-doubt, lack of self-compassion, and perfectionism, let's say. And that takes time and effort and persistence and vulnerability and courage. I'm working on it, as I can.
I'm wrapping this up now (so much for short, but it at least didn't take me that long to write it... I think... when did I start this?) I want to tie up the title: "Grandfather" is the affectionate nickname for the90-year-oldd Lipan Apache shaman and scout who trained Tom Brown Jr., and one of the most loving, funny, and kick-butt people I've ever heard of. One of my favorite quotes of his (misquoted, of course) is when Tom asked him who his role model was, and he replied, "The highest Vision of myself." Or something like that. His own highest potential. I love that. Rather than trying to be like someone else awesome, try to be like the best version of yourself you can imagine.
Welp, that's all. Now you can just sit back in your comfy chairs and nap while I squirm and flail and get back to you next time with the results of my solo week. You get to enjoy one of my favorite aspects of reading other people's stories: half the adventure with none of the calories (discomfort).
Goodbye, good night, see you when the time is right.
May your paths wind through peaceful and fantastic forests.
-Isaac
No comments:
Post a Comment