My dear friend and talented co- worker, Adrianne Robinson, has made a blog in the lens of balancing real life with motherhood and teacherhood. It is called "I Was Thinking Out Loud" and is so beautifully written and crafted, even to someone who doesn't have little ones at home :)....
It was after my first cup of coffee. After my tired feet hit the floor and crept quietly down the stairs trying not to wake my children. I just wanted to relish in the peace and hear only the creaks of the floor and the sound of my own deep breaths. I had a few moments to catch up on some of the work that stirred me from my slumber.
Today on Oprah’s Super Soul podcast I listened to Jay Williams, a former professional basketball player, open up to Oprah about this near- fatal motorcycle crash, his regrets and how he started to fulfill his destiny despite the doubts about how he threw his whole life away. The title of his podcast was, “You Can Survive Your Worst Mistake.” Now I won’t go into detail about Jay, (because you have to listen to the podcast!) but I will tell you one thing that keeps reverberating in my head. There was a line said by Jay and then repeated by Oprah, “I was done chasing my ghosts.” I literally stopped mid-stride on my walk today and repeated that out loud. How many ghosts from the past are we all chasing? Still talking about? Living with? Losing sleep over? Marring new relationships by holding on?
The sound of my alarm clock in the morning used to be like nails on a chalkboard. And no, it wasn’t the tune or the melody I was selecting; it was just the sound of waking me up, in it's entirety. It’s as if this alarm had a latent power over my entire being in the morning. It told me when to get up, how little time I had to get ready, and that I needed get my being out of the door ASAP. I found myself each morning shuffling around my apartment, aimlessly throwing things into my bag (unfortunately, not my lunch!) as I abruptly shut the door behind me, wet hair creating a damp circle on the shoulders of my shirt and all.
Life has a rhythm. Summer leads to fall, winter leads to spring, and day leads to night and back again. Your body has rhythms, too. It tells you when to eat (you feel hungry), when to sleep (you feel sleepy), and when something feels good and when it doesn’t.
Wow, I was sifting through past blogs and this one stuck to me. This is pre- full marathon and all it tells me is the bigger and braver we reach into depths of who we are, the more joyous this journey. I am a strong believer that it is vital to truly reminisce, not dwell, in lessons you have learned over the years. It's the invisible blanket of pride and humility interwoven for your own safety and security moving through this world....
Not entirely sure if this is just a reverberating light holding it’s flame from last night’s interview with Donna Jackson, studio owner of SYJ, for “Sheroes of the Now” podcast, but I am feeling such clarity with the word grace this morning. Grace as a verb is defined as “to do honor or credit to by one’s presence”.
Well, that title just made me feel liberated from emotional hindrance and a release from stigmatic fabrications of the word "Emotional" already! I have been wanting to write something about this topic for a while, but didn't have a handle on it the way I wanted. After taking a course on Mindfulness and looking deeply into the cognitive being and emotions, I am SO ready! Buckle up, babes.
I think I am in love with the term “Practice: Being Human” because it seems like such a paradox. Right? We are human, why would we have to practice being just that? What I mean is to practice feeling the human spirit. You were not just plucked and put on this Earth to be mediocre at best. You were brought here (miraculously) because your soul was meant to shine and serve.
I remember when I was 21 years old in my first classroom after graduate school, I had a full blown breakdown...before the first day of school. I was never going to be able to do this or get all of this work done before the shiny smiles strode through my door, I thought. Just then, my mentor (not sure if she knows I call her this!) strode into room 201 and delivered a pile of papers that she had just run off for me. She saw me in tears at my desk and could sense my doubt from the doorway. The next words she spoke stuck to me like Gorilla Glue adhering two shattered pieces back together again. “It will all get done, my dear. Less is more sometimes.”