Before I became a instructor teaching Sociology, I never taught a class on that level before. I had done some training classes in psychology that were basics but I never taught a college class of this nature and certainly not one on Sociology though I had the credentials. I approached this new job like a virgin on her honeymoon.
A million questions came into my head until there was no room for much else. Who was I to try to do this? What made me think I could do this? What the hell did I know about teaching? You are kidding, right? You have lost your mind haven’t you? And so it went. I could go into more details here about my first quarter of teaching but in this space of time let me just say that what I learned, is that you do or become that which is your goal only one way and that is by doing it. You act as if and as though. You put you intentions and attention on being that which you seek – whatever that might be – and lo and behold it becomes reality. You use the language, the gestures, the choices, and all that goes with that role and by doing so, you take that shape. Step on the stage and into the spotlight.
Be all that you can be. You can do it. I know you can.
Actually what I am “loving” is the morning time when I am drinking my coffee and writing. Sometimes the writing takes the form of remarks or responses on Face Book. I often look in amazement at the words that form on the page as my fingers dance over my computer keyboard. Other times something that someone else wrote starts streams of words in my head and they come pouring out in my blog or in a separate post on Face Book or both. Other times as I awake and begin my day, an idea or thought takes form, seemingly from out of nowhere, and my fingers itch to get to the keyboard and to watch it all come alive.
My bathrobe or nightgown or pajamas are just symbols of a relaxed mode that indicates that at least for a while, I am not thinking about having to go anywhere or do anything so I can dance on the keyboard and create something out of nothing. Ah, the joy that arises as I allow what is bubbling up within me to come pouring out (or in some cases staggering out when I hit a road block or pothole or two).
Yes, housekeeping, neatness, and organization of my surroundings is not my forte’. I stop for a moment and look around. What a swamp! I wonder if all person who create have a tendency for a lack of real enthusiasm for being good housekeepers. I admit I have not yet reached the point where the swamp becomes such a threat, I must do battle with it or drown. When the words take a break, I can chip away a bit at the mess around me. The idea of simplifying looms noisily over my head; however, in order to do that, I must work on the swamp by keeping fewer things of “necessity” to sap my time, my energy, and my space.
My home does not look like a hoarder’s home but in my head sometimes it feels that way.